All That Mullarkey (10 page)

‘Come on, let’s try it.’ And laughing, coaxing, he actually began to hook the pyjama trousers over her feet. Grumpily, she lifted her behind to allow him to pull them up. Silent and unco-operative as he awkwardly fought the top on, one arm, rolling her over the bunched material, two arms, fumbling with the buttons. By the time it was done, Gav was panting and Cleo felt like a badly wrapped parcel.

‘There,’ he said. ‘What do you think?’

Cleo snapped, ‘That it’s a stupid idea!’ Then, noticing the bulge in the front of his smart new jammies, ‘We’re not going to take them all off again now are we? I’m so
tired
!’

Yet when she could have slept, when Gav was breathing loudly beside her, she lay awake and brooded, feeling uncomfortably restricted. Pyjamas! Deliberately depriving themselves of sex? Gav and Cleo Callaway? Not the pre-That Weekend Gav and Cleo, anyway. Very strange. If it hadn’t been for the bulgy shorts she would have suspected Gav of trying to hide a problem.

But, whatever his motives were for taking a sexual holiday, it was funny that she didn’t mind.

She nudged her breast with her forearm. Uncomfortably tender. She wished her period would hurry up. Used to the regime of the pill, erratic periods were something she’d forgotten about.

The doctor had said that she might be irregular when she came off the pill. That’s all it was, the feeling that she’d boil into a temper any moment, the tenderness and loss of libido. Coming off the pill could do funny things to a woman. Well-known fact.

But she would be glad when her period arrived.

Chapter Ten

Four weeks later, Cleo’s hands, as she paid at the unfamiliar pharmacy counter on the outskirts of Leicester, felt clammy. Her period never had arrived and she was finding it harder and harder to believe it was because of post-pill ovulation eccentricity.

Clamping the bag to her side she stole out, past the incontinence aids, past the perfumes and make-up, past the photo booth and into the tree-lined, paved street. She paused, fumbling as she tried to tuck the long, flat package into her handbag.

But it seemed gigantic. She felt as if it might spring to life and leap from her bag, gleefully accosting passers-by: ‘Look at me, I’m a pregnancy testing kit! Cleo’s period’s really late. She’s afraid she’s pregnant and isn’t sure of the father. She picked a man up at a club! What use is the diaphragm at home in the box? There were condoms – yes, right there in the room – if only she’d thought about them in time. And then when she went home to Gav she did exactly the same thing. Absent-minded, or
what
? No morning-after pill either. Isn’t she useless? I say, did
you
know Cleo’s period’s late? What will Gav say? Who do you vote for? Let’s flip – heads for Gav and tails for Justin.’

All through the afternoon’s Dealing with Difficult People workshop Cleo kept checking her bag was fastened so no one should catch a glimpse of the evidence of her guilt and laxity. Oh, to be home! Do the test. And know.

She’d hoped for a miracle for long enough.

The afternoon ended eventually and as her group clattered off she sighed with relief, bundling laptop and screen, flip chart and bag of pens into the back of her car. It seemed to take forever to negotiate Leicester’s one-way system, fight her way along the A47 and circle the Peterborough parkways until she could peel off for Middledip. She reached home taut and edgy.

But, ‘Damn!’ There was Dora, waiting on the pavement, Eddie asleep in his buggy, Meggie hunting ladybirds on the shrubs leaning over the wall.

Dora looked great in black trousers and a square-necked top. She beamed as Cleo climbed from her car. ‘We’re surprise visitors. I thought it would be nice to walk around your village rather than the city. Meggie would like a go on the swings behind the village hall.’

Cleo blinked. Dora lived right on the edge of all the miles and miles of footpaths and playgrounds around Ferry Meadows’ lakes.

‘Lovely,’ she lied. ‘Come in and give Meggie a drink – hello Meggie – while I change.’ And, casually, ‘No Keith?’

Dora busied herself manoeuvring Eddie and Meggie over the doorstep and through into the kitchen. ‘Keith’s doing his own thing.’

‘Doesn’t look like Gav’s home yet, either.’ Was that a slight feeling of relief? ‘Orange juice OK, Meggie?’

The stolid little girl nodded, bunches jiggling. ‘’S please.’ Mousy strands of hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks. Her sandals made a sucking noise on the tiles as she hovered foot to foot.

‘And some biscuits?’

‘’S please.’

‘I’ll just pop up and change.’ She leapt up the stairs, tugging at the zip of her handbag and jamming it on the paper bag inside, before wrenching out the box and tucking it at the back of her knickers drawer. Later, have to be later. Or did the test only work in the mornings? Bugger Dora, why did she have to turn up tonight, just when she’d psyched herself up to learn the worst?

They stepped outside into the lavender light of a heavy English August evening.

Cleo tried gently to move Dora along. ‘Shall we call on Rhianne?’ Rhianne and Ian lived in the new part of the village, Bankside, where the houses were of pink or yellow brick.

Dora wrinkled her nose. ‘I’d rather not, to be honest.’

‘We’ll go straight to the village hall then.’ The muggy air smelled of cut grass as they took the path to the hall to the swish of the chubby rubber wheels on Eddie’s buggy. Meggie scampered straight off to the swing.

Dora got her going in smooth arcs then beckoned Cleo out of earshot.

Cleo sighed. This was what the ‘walk in the country’ was about, obviously. Dora had something to tell her.

Unusually flushed and bright-eyed, guarding her mouth with her fingertips as if afraid someone might lip-read, Dora cleared her throat. ‘Cleo, do you remember Keith and me going through that sticky patch? Before Eddie came along?’

‘Of course.’ Cleo had no trouble remembering that draggy period of Gav and Keith vanishing for long man-to-man talks. Dora had been silent and tense and merely shrugged whenever Cleo had asked if she could help.

Dora looked suddenly desolate. ‘Keith had an affair.’

Cleo bit her lip. Had Gav known? ‘That’s so …! I did wonder. Is it over?’

‘It was over before I found out. But when I did find out – bloody credit card receipts, would you believe, for hotels on weekends I thought he was at seminars; he was so careless it was insulting – I couldn’t get over it. I couldn’t forgive him for doing … that, with someone else.’

‘Yes. I mean no. Right.’ Guilt made Cleo suddenly hot. Dora’s eyes were shining with tears and Cleo didn’t want to think about Gav feeling like that. Please, the great god of mistakes, he wouldn’t have to. As long as she wasn’t pregnant.

With a baby that could be his.

Or could be Justin’s.

‘Mummy! Mummy! Push!’

Dora nipped over to Meggie’s slowing swing, dragged it back and let it go, ‘Wheee! OK, darling?’ before scurrying back to Cleo. She was smiling, now. A smile touched with triumph. ‘But this time, the boot’s on the other foot!’

Cleo’s brows shot up. ‘Dora! You? Who?’

Dora’s face softened. ‘He’s Meggie’s swimming instructor. Sean. I’ve known him for months through taking Meggie for her lessons. But I met him in Bettsbrough by accident. The car had broken down. The kids were so tired and miserable that I felt like having a good cry – and he rang a garage and took us all into his house. We had coffee and he fed the children … oh, Cleo, I can just
talk
to him for hours! Hours and hours. And he listens. He doesn’t go behind his paper and answer, “Mmm?” He doesn’t watch other girls when he’s with me. He doesn’t “just mention” that I’ve gone up two dress sizes since having the children. He’s kind and generous and funny. And he
likes
me.’

She nipped back to tend Meggie’s swing once more. ‘Aren’t you going high, sweetheart?’ Eddie’s wispy-haired little head tocked from side to side as he watched his sister from the buggy.

Cleo realised that as well as Dora’s hair colour being lifted, she looked as if she was trying to grow her nails. And she was wearing perfume. Cleo felt an uncomfortable sense of impending change. ‘This is serious stuff, isn’t it? Have you …?’

Dora’s eyes danced. ‘Have we ever!’ She gripped Cleo’s forearm, her words tumbling over one another. ‘On the mornings when Sean’s not teaching until the afternoon session, I take Meggie to preschool then rush to his flat and get into bed with him. I put Eddie on the floor in his car seat and give him a biscuit when he wakes up. I’m so wicked! But I’ve never felt like this about anyone. Cleo, I finally understand how you and Gav feel about each other. Nobody else matters.’

‘Oh,’ said Cleo, thinking that maybe things weren’t as bad as she imagined if people still thought that. ‘So, what do you think’s happening? Is it a fling?’

Dora checked again that Meggie couldn’t hear. ‘Better!’ she beamed.

Hesitation. ‘An affair?’

‘Better. It’s …
it
!’

Eddie began to grizzle and Meggie, slowing, shouted, ‘Mummy! Off now.’ They trailed back to 11 Port Road to find Gav’s car parked outside. ‘I won’t disturb Gav just now.’ Dora hurriedly settled a squalling Eddie in his car seat as if frightened Cleo might frogmarch her in and force her to face Keith’s best friend.

Meggie, drooping, began to whinge. ‘Mummy, Mummy …’

‘When I’ve strapped Eddie in,’ Dora soothed.

On impulse, Cleo lifted Meggie up on her hip and felt the girl’s tired head nestle gratefully into her shoulder. Hot, moist arms looped Cleo’s neck and sandalled feet tapped her thigh. Meggie smelled of Milky Bars. Cleo found herself rocking gently as she wondered what kind of enormous changes were on their way into the child’s little life.

Dora looked up, having finally succeeded in bending Eddie in the middle so that his straps could be fastened. ‘Now there’s something you don’t see every day. Cleo Callaway being maternal.’

Cleo’s face caught fire. ‘She looked tired out.’ Was guilt written across her face like graffiti?
Cleo might be up the duff. Justin + Gav were ’ere
.

Dora moved closer and Meggie instantly shifted her weight towards her mother’s waiting arms. Cleo’s side felt cool as Dora took Meggie up.

Dropping a kiss on her daughter’s hair, Dora’s eyes flickered across Cleo’s face. ‘You don’t have to sound apologetic. It’s not a crime to feel affection for a child.’

A child. A child?
A child
. Impulsively, Cleo asked, ‘How did it feel to be pregnant?’ And instantly wished she hadn’t.

But Dora didn’t seem to see anything odd in the question. She hugged Meggie. ‘For me it was lovely. I’d been aching for a baby. My boobs got bigger, then my stomach. I used to love to feel the baby kicking, as if I was hugging a secret. When Meggie was born I actually missed the constant movement inside. But that’s just me – I’ve heard others say they felt invaded, couldn’t wait for it to be over, were sick for the entire nine months, got greasy hair and spots.’ She slid Meggie onto her booster seat and fastened the belt, stroking the little girl’s damp fringe where it hung over heavy eyes. ‘Pregnancy changes your life completely.’

‘Yes. I can see how that works.’

As Cleo stood on the pavement and waved Dora off, Gav bounded from the house behind her. He kissed her lips, hard and briefly. ‘Hello and goodbye, I’m playing seven-a-side. Unless you want to come?’

‘I haven’t eaten or anything.’ She pressed an answering kiss to the corner of his mouth and stepped out from his arm. ‘Hope you score.’

He slammed the tailgate of his car and looked at her oddly. ‘Not very likely, is it? As I’m goalie now?’

She shook back her hair. How could she have forgotten? Gav downshifting to goalie had been a big enough deal at the time. He’d slowed up, he’d been told, and would no longer be picked as a forward. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d heard the word ‘gutted’. ‘I hope nobody from the other team scores, then.’ Just go. Drive away. I need to be alone.

A final blown kiss and he slid into the car.

Her legs, as she trod up the stairs to their bedroom, vibrated very slightly. Surely they couldn’t be
shaking
? Maybe she was just tired.

The box. Blue and white. Cellophane. Instructions. She stared at the wand for a long time. Read about the ludicrous procedure of peeing on it and waiting to see how many blue lines appeared in the square window. The test could be done at any time of day.

She was sure they knew what they were talking about, but maybe she’d do it in the morning. She was so tired now, weighed down by Dora’s confessions; too tired to face up to things.

Carefully, she tucked the box back in the drawer.

In the shower, she soaped. Her breasts felt funny. She cupped them – was there an unusual weightiness? They ached. Could be premenstrual, she suffered that way occasionally. And her stomach, surely, was rounder? But if she was pregnant shouldn’t she be feeling sick? Immediately, she did feel sick, nauseated at what she might have to deal with. She thought of Yvonne’s fainting fits. Was that why her own legs felt like jelly?