Page 29 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
‘OK, love. X-ray is ready for you. Let’s check if you’re still in one piece.’
Six
I’m not sure what cocktail of drugs they give me at the hospital but that night, I dream about a person having sex in a picture. In truth, it looks very much like an a-ha video from the eighties except there are no mullets. And all the people having the sex are myself and Danny, except that we have sketched out bodies and our heads are ripped out of old wedding photos. I can’t feel the sex, but I am looking down at my new sketched body in complete awe. I have these pert, rounded boobs and a sculpted, almost concave stomach. It is picture sex so naturally I am amazingly bendy too – my legs are being flung about to the wonderment of my sketched out husband who engages in intercourse with me in a range of unrealistic positions, and at one point I can do a bridge which I haven’t attempted since junior school gymnastics. The dream appears to me like a cartoon flick book, in stills. Morten Harket, the lead singer of the band even runs in at one point. I pause to wave to him. ‘Your name is Morten! Like us!’ He runs off again. My eyes open.
I awake to an empty bed back home. I have vague recollections of getting here, mainly involving Danny and Stu angling me up the stairs with the same noise and exertion one would move a piano. I remember my husband dressing me in his favourite Stussy T-shirt, a mug of lukewarm tea, a stilted kiss goodnight. Where’s Danny now? It’s 7.30a.m. A pillow that once elevated my ankle is now on the floor. The dresser that I wrecked is now pieced back together awkwardly. Undergarments that were tossed aside in the heat of drunken passion are folded in piles. Maybe this time he’s actually left me. I shuffle over to the wardrobe with my dodgy ankle. Well, if he has left then he’s gone without clothes. Maybe where he was going he didn’t need clothes. The room door flies open.
‘And what are you doing out of bed?’
Of all the people who should be standing there, this one is welcome. I smile and exhale loudly to see her carrying Polly close, followed by Tess and Eve, all dressed and ready for school.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I ask.
‘Well, when you hear your sister’s fallen down the stairs and there was blood everywhere then you make the effort to ensure she hasn’t done herself any serious injuries… You numpty.’
Emma. Relief and emotion pour out of me and Tess immediately comes over to embrace me. Eve is more tentative.
‘What did you do, Mummy? Daddy said you fell because you drank too much wine.’
This will no doubt be what she reports in her writing diary at school.
‘Daddy’s here?’
‘He was,’ Emma informs me. ‘He rushed off to work, said he had an early conference call with Asia? All OK?’
Emma knows she can’t say too much but comes to offer me a hand while I shuffle over. Tess fluffs my pillows up for me. When I sit down on the edge of the bed, Eve comes over and hugs me tightly.
‘I was scared,’ she mumbles. I push her back to cup her face and kiss her forehead.
‘Honey, it’s just my ankle. I’m fine.’
She passes me a get well note on a Post-It that she sticks to my leg then runs off. Tess examines my leg and stares at my toes.
‘How did you fall? Like did you tumble down the stairs or belly flop?’ she asks.
‘I can’t quite remember.’
‘That’ll be the wine.’ I told you she was dry. Tess smiles at me, looking all at once like her father. ‘Granny Gilly is making our packed lunches by the way and she’s giving us granary bread. Eve is gonna flip out when she sees that.’ She giggles, cupping two hands to her mouth.
‘I’m sorry. Mummy should have been more careful.’ I rake my fingers through her hair, soft curls springing back in my fingers.
She hugs my midriff for a moment too long. ‘Uncle Stu is downstairs just sitting there in his pants. Nothing else. He still thinks he’s in Australia. There’s also a man called Jag who has Maoams in his pockets. He came with Aunty Ems. Can I go now?’
I nod. No doubt she’s gone to mug this man for his sweets. She skips away while I pull faces at Emma who sits pretending she hasn’t heard a thing, Polly purring like a contented kitten in her arms.
‘So…all OK?’ she asks.
‘Jag?’ I reply.
‘You go first, let me check out the patient.’
She leaves Polly to crawl on the bedroom rug and pulls back the duvet to examine the damage, unpeeling tape to assess the handiwork and moving my foot around on the joint. I wince a little.
‘Danny said they did an X-ray, not broken but a heavy sprain? Nice glue work though. You’ll have to shower with your leg in a bin bag. Any pain, warmth? And Tess has a point… How did you fall?’
‘None of the above and I didn’t fall, Danny dropped me.’
‘Because…you accused him of cheating on you?’
