By the time Jo was rounding up the children for the fourth time that day to collect Cassandra from school and Josh from work, she was exhausted.
Tallulah fell asleep the second Jo strapped her into her car seat, snoring so loudly that neither Jo nor Zak could hear Zak’s favorite tape. By the time Jo had eventually found a parking space in the limited Hampstead spaces, put her sticker on the window, and dragged Tallulah out of her seat, the little girl had been deeply and happily unconscious. Naturally, as anyone would be after being dragged out of an idyllic slumber, Tallulah was grumpy. So grumpy, in fact, that if she hadn’t been four years old, Jo would have assumed she had PMS.
“Don’t sing that song, Zak,” whined Tallulah, as Zak hummed the tune on his tape that he’d been trying to listen to on the way there.
“Stop walking ahead, Zak,” she whined. Zak and Jo exchanged quick knowing looks and kept as quiet as possible.
When Tallulah dropped precariously off to sleep in Jo’s arms, Jo gave Zak a quick wink, and whispered, “Good practice.” He didn’t know what it meant, but he grinned anyway.
Tallulah refused to walk, so Jo had to carry her all the way to the school gates. A deadweight four-year-old is heavy at the best of times; a deadweight four-year-old with PMS is somehow far heavier.
Jo walked up the steps to the playground where the children milled around waiting to be picked up. Cassandra, as usual, was standing to one side with her little friend Asha, who somehow always made Jo want to say very kindly, “I am not going to abduct you.”
“Do you want to sit in the front until we pick up Josh?” Jo asked her when they got to the car.
“Alright,” said Cassandra.
None of the children talked to each other on the walk back to the car, and Jo let them be. She knew that sometimes you just want to be alone with your thoughts, especially after a hard day.
By the time the prepremenstrual post-toddler was strapped safely in her seat, Zak and Cassandra were already arguing. Their rows could flare up faster than a rocket up a cat’s tail. One second they could be giggling together, the next trying to kill each other, then back to giggling. Jo was firm but fair. It was Cassandra’s turn to listen to the music, Zak had listened to his on the way there. Zak soared into an apoplectic fury because he hadn’t been able to hear his tape thanks to Tallulah’s snoring, until Tallulah sorted out the situation by snoring so loudly no one could hear Cassandra’s music either.
By the time they got to Highgate Station, the evening had turned fine, and Josh was waiting in the sun, his tie loosened and a smooth olive-skinned collarbone just peeking out of his navy blue shirt. Jo took a deep breath, beeped her horn, and turned away when he looked up. He grinned at his family and tousled Cassandra’s hair as she got out of the front for him and moved into the back. Cassandra grinned ruefully, the dark netherworld of school already diminishing to the background of her real life, where she was Number 1 child with a pretty nanny, a fun half brother, and a mummy and daddy who’d be home soon.
Josh got into the front seat.
“How’s the family?” he asked, in a particularly friendly voice. Jo’s spirits rose.
“Fine!” they all shouted.
“I meant these ones,” he said, pointing to Jo’s cuddly toys on the dashboard. “Daffy, Duffy, Dozy, and Dud.”
Jo tutted. “Huh. I won’t leave you to name the children.”
Damn. That had sounded different outside than in. She wanted to counter it with some pithy, pointed backstitch comment but was preoccupied by her skin shifting and resettling. And, anyway, Josh had either not heard it or ignored it and was turning round already, teasing the children.
“Josh!” bellowed Zak, as if Josh was still in his office and deaf. “Will you play cricket with me when we get in?”
“Jo! After my homework, can I do your hair?” asked Cassandra.
Tallulah snored like a rhinoceros in the back, and they all laughed.
Jo concentrated on driving without grinding the gears as much as her teeth. She couldn’t tell what she wanted to do most—apologize again to Josh or hit him very hard on his bruises.
Josh settled into his seat. “Another day another dollar.”
“For some,” said Jo pleasantly. “My day’s only halfway through.”
“Good thing it’s an easy job then.” Jo almost stalled.
Later, as the children galloped ahead into the house and Jo and Josh bent down to pick up the new yellow pages outside the front door, Jo told him quietly but firmly, “I think Cassandra had a horrid day.”
He caught her eye. When their knees touched briefly, they both acted as if they’d got an electric shock.
“What makes you say that?” he asked.
Jo shrugged. “I don’t know.” She looked ahead at Cassandra, already inside the hall. “Just…be gentle with her.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Until you came along, I always treated Cassandra with a rod of iron.” And he walked into the house ahead of her.
She locked her jaw as she stood up and followed him.
It was a long evening. Jo and Josh divided responsibilities without conferring, Josh playing with Zak in the garden and Jo playing with Cassie and Tallulah in the conservatory. Jo found it hard to believe that only last week she would have found it more fun for Josh to be indoors. She hoped Zak was tiring him out in the garden.
Meanwhile, in the garden, Zak was tiring Josh out, winning at cricket with all the grace and goodwill of a six-year-old boy.
“I’m winning!” he yelled inside to Jo. “I’m killing him!!”
“Good boy,” said Jo. “I’m proud of you.”
Zak, giggling, raced back outside to thrash his half brother. He hoped Josh would never leave.
“I don’t think I want to bowl anymore,” said Josh, pulling his shirt out of his trousers and flapping it to give himself some air.
“But I’m in bat,” said Zak nonplussed.
“Oh.”
“You can be wicketkeeper,” offered Zak magnanimously.
“Wow!” exclaimed Josh. “You mean I get to keep your wickets? Forever?’
Josh enjoyed the delicious sound, like water trickling off rocks, of a boy unable to control his giggles.
“No!” said Zak, when he was able to speak. “They’re my wickets!”
“That’s awfully good of you,” continued Josh. “I’d have thought you’d want to keep them.”
Zak tried to get a grip.
“No,” he gasped, “that’s not what wicketkeeper means!”
“How long can I keep them for?”
More water trickling off rocks, then some serious cricket and half an hour later, after Josh had been thrashed good and proper, he pretended to collapse, which took longer than he’d hoped, given the bruises. He lay on the grass, blinking up at the sky. “I’m dead,” he said gravely. “The shock of losing to a four-year-old.”
Zak became hysterical with laughter again, jumping from foot to foot.
“I’m six!! Not four!!”
“Sorry. Five-year-old.”
“Six!” managed Zak.
“I’m going to heaven now,” said Josh, getting up slowly. “In the kitchen. Look after my plants.”
Zak followed Josh inside, yelling, “I won! I beat him!” He overtook him, barely noticing Josh stop still in the doorway.
Jo was motionless, sitting cross-legged on the floor by the conservatory window, her back elegant and straight. Her thick dark hair was being meticulously plaited by the two silent girls, who were draped around her. Tallulah was sitting on Jo’s lap, Cassie kneeling behind her. Six limbs were intertwined and every now and then, soft whispers of encouragement from Jo caused flickers of half smiles. Occasionally, Jo stroked Tallulah’s head, and Cassie hugged Jo. The sun was coming in through the conservatory doors, and a deep glow of blue seemed to lighten the strands of Jo’s hair that Tallulah kept dropping.
Josh stepped inside the room slowly, like a swimmer hauling himself out of water.
“I beat him!” repeated Zak.
Jo spoke without moving. “Well done, Zak, just in time for tea.”
Zak found little to engage him with the girls and joined Josh back at the garden door.
“Mate,” said Josh with a knowing wink. “The ladies don’t like it when you hold your ding-dong.”
Zak became temporarily speechless with laughter.
“The ladies! My ding-dong!” He giggled eventually, then stopped suddenly. “What’s for tea?” he asked.
Jo pointed to the oven and hob, where some vegetables were steaming and some fish fingers were grilling.
“Fish fingers, chips, broccoli, and peas,” she said, handing Cassie a hairband. “Are you going to be a good boy and lay the table?”
“Alright then,” said Josh. “But only because you called me a good boy.”
The children had hysterics. Jo handed Tallulah the other hairband. The girls had finished her hair. She stood up and twirled for them to appraise their handiwork.
“Tallulah’s is lower than mine,” said Cassandra. “She looks awful.”
“No she doesn’t,” said Tallulah. “Does she, Josh?”
Josh crossed his arms and made great play of studying Jo. She was wearing three-quarter-length trousers and a T-shirt with a picture of a little pink heart on her chest. She’d been studiously copied by Cassandra and Tallulah down to the color and style of their hairbands, the only visible differences being that they both had nail polish on and no breasts. The three of them stared defiantly back at him.
“Hmm,” thought Josh out loud. “Does Jo look awful? Let. Me. Think.”
After a while, Jo moved to the oven to start preparing tea.
“She looks like a ten-year-old,” Josh said eventually, joining her at the hob.
“Well,” muttered Jo, her head half in the oven. “Better than acting like one.” She took her head out of the oven and found Josh staring at her with an inscrutable expression on his face. Had she gone too far? Flushed, she remembered what Shaun had said about Josh being a spy for his mother. Could he get her into trouble?
“Where are the forks?” asked Zak, suddenly behind them.
When Jo’s mobile rang, and it was her mum, she made a point of asking Cassandra to finish the tea, instead of asking Josh.
“I’ll do it,” said Josh quietly.
“No, it’s fine,” said Jo.
“I can do it,” said Cassandra.
“I don’t mind,” said Josh pointedly. “I’m not a child, I can look after my own family.”
Jo stared at him. Then said into the phone, “Mum, can I phone you back—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” interrupted Josh, his voice rising. “Speak to your mother, I’ll finish doing the tea.” As she went into her bedroom, she heard him muttering, “No one’s indispensable.”
She shut the bedroom door behind her.
“How’s Dad?” she asked.
“He’s got a checkup next week,” answered Hilda. “I’m terrified. He hasn’t been looking good lately.”
“He hasn’t been looking good for the past fifty years,” said Jo. “But we still love him.”
There was a pause. “How are you there, love?” asked Hilda.
“I’m fine, Mum. How are—”
“They feed you properly?”
“Well, they feed me, but most of their food’s really weird.”
“They’re not Asians are they?”
“Mum! No, they just eat differently.”
“You’re getting your meat and two veg?”
“Yes, Mum. I—Would you like me to come home?”
“Course not!” exclaimed Hilda. “What d’you want to come home for?”
“To see you, silly.”
“What d’you want to come home to see me for?”
“Because I miss you!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re far too busy. Can’t go rushing off all the time—what would they think? Mind you, I think your dad misses you a bit.”
“I’ll come next weekend.”
“Ooh, lovely!”
“Oh no! I can’t. The weekend after.”
“Smashing.”
“I’d better go.”
“Right.”
“I’ve got to give the kids tea. Their half brother’s with us, and I think he may be checking up on me.”
“Oh dear.”
When Jo returned, she found the children seated politely at the table, eating quietly. She started tidying the kitchen up around them.
“I know what I want for my birthday,” announced Zak, milk moustaching his upper lip.
“Do you?” asked Josh. “What?”
“I need a digital watch.”
“Didn’t Mummy and Daddy buy you a watch last year?” asked Cassandra. “You keep breaking them.”
“You’re right,” said Zak seriously. “Perhaps I should get two.”
“How many children do you want when you’re older?” Cassandra asked Tallulah gravely, forking her peas.
“Four,” answered Tallulah. “How many do you want?”
“Two,” said Cassandra.
“Do you want a boy and a girl, or a girl and a girl or a boy and a boy?” asked Tallulah, in between small, pensive mouthfuls of broccoli.
“Boy and a girl,” came the rapid reply.
Jo smiled. “I don’t think it works like that. You don’t get a choice.”
The girls thought about this.
“You might get a boy and a boy,” whispered Tallulah.
There was a long, long pause.
“Tallulah’s so lucky,” whined Zak suddenly. “She’s got more chips than me. That’s not right.”
“Lula, honey,” coaxed Jo, using her soft Tallulah voice. “Do you think you’ll be able to eat all those chips?”
Tallulah looked at her plate and considered the question. “Probably not.”
“Would you give Zak some?”
Tallulah handed Zak some of her chips.
“Thank you,” said Zak, slightly taken aback.
“My pleasure,” said Tallulah gravely.
Josh and Jo glanced at each other and then quickly away, before Tallulah crumpled into Jo’s body, a heap of anguished regret.
When Dick came home, the children were bathed and ready for bed. It never mattered how tired they were, whenever Daddy got home they found new energy and fluttered round him like day-old butterflies, enjoying their last moments of consciousness. Jo watched Dick come alive in his children’s company. She smiled, then looked over to see if Josh was also watching. He was watching, but he certainly wasn’t smiling. Maybe Shaun was right about him.
That evening, she made a concerted—and big—effort to phone Sheila.
“Shaun says he had a good time,” said Sheila.
“Oh!” said Jo. “Have you seen him then?”
“Yeah,” said Sheila. “He had lunch with me and James today.”
“How’s James?”
“Fine.”
There was a pause. Jo didn’t know what else to say.
“How is everyone?” she asked.
“What?” said Sheila. “Everyone in the world?”
“No. Your folks.”
“Same as usual.”
“James?”
“Still fine.”
There was another pause.
“It’s so knackering here,” said Jo. “And this stupid brother’s making my life a misery.”
“Oh yeah,” said Sheila. “Shaun told us all about him. The one who listens to you two having sex.”
“Yeah,” said Jo, her mouth dry. “That one.”
“Sounds like a right saddo.”
“Mm.”
When Jo got off the phone, she had a quick shower and lay on her bed trying to read. She knew there was absolutely no way she’d manage to get to sleep before Josh came and showered and walked through her room to go to bed.
Three bedtime stories, three last hugs, three big fat kisses, and three sleeping children later, Dick went downstairs, tired but content. It wasn’t to last.
He went to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a stiff whiskey, sat down in the conservatory, turned on the TV, then turned it off. He stood up, sat down again and then, very slowly, put his head in his hands.
Vanessa got home at ten and went straight to the kitchen for a stiff drink. Dick was putting a video of Top Gear in the machine. He looked up at her briefly.
“Hello, darling, decided to come home have you?”
She watched him as he perched on the edge of the sofa, head tilted slightly, feet crossed at the toes, eyes wide, watching his video. Her stomach lurched. She walked slowly toward him. She was wearing the high heels she knew he found sexy.
Dick pointed at the screen. “Look! It’s got a gently kicked-back rear end.”
Vanessa stopped. “That’s nice. Night, darling,” she said, gently kicking back her own rear end. “Don’t forget to turn off the lights.”
“Mmm,” called out Dick after her, eyes still on the screen.
Half an hour later, a knock at the en suite shower door disturbed Jo from her thoughts. She picked up her book.
“Come in!” she called, and immediately felt foolish—Josh didn’t want to come in, he wanted to come through. Josh opened the door slowly and Jo glanced up from her book toward him. She felt heat flush up her chest. He was wearing nothing but jeans, his damp hair tousled. He stood in the doorway drying his hair before replacing the towel on the rail. Jo stared until he looked at her.
“Bruises are going down nicely,” she said quickly, turning back to her book.
Josh padded slowly across her room and looked down. “You think?” he asked opening his arms out. She looked up.
He turned slowly round until he faced her again. She was lying on her side, head cupped in hand, legs dangling over the bed, hair cascading over the grinning coyote. He raised his eyebrows at her, as if daring her to answer.
Jo frowned intensely, disturbed by the sight of his bruised back. “Not long now, I suppose,” she said, her tone softer.
Josh nodded. “Why, thank you, Dr. Nanny. Can I go now?”
She nodded miserably.
“Night then,” said Josh.
“Night.”
Jo stared at the open page of her book while Josh left her room. And then, to the murmuring vibrations of him going to bed one foot away from her, she shut her book, lay back on her bed, and closed her eyes.