Page 51 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
I may as well be walking my dog and throwing balls in different directions so he won’t go and roll in piles of fox poo. I get rid of all my browser windows. I glare at my phone. Effing nothing. Stu is also not responding. It’s a Morton brother thing, must be.
‘Why single? You think these are manifestations of fantasies then? Could be repressed married sexual frustration,’ he says.
I pause. Mainly because I’ve just stood up and have to do that manoeuvre where I have to adjust the gusset on my tights but deep down, that thought still lingers. Even though Danny denies it’s anything to do with us, it could be a subconscious thing. Maybe all these feelings and desires lay beneath the surface.
‘Maybe.’
‘Am I OK just rocking up to yours? Do I need to bring anything?’ he asks.
‘Wine.’ I respond, a little too quickly. He smiles. We’re going to need it.
I spend a deliberately long time selecting and purchasing wine this evening, hoping it might give Danny a few more minutes to call me. Of course, he doesn’t make any contact but it does lead me to appear like a wine snob to young Tim as I make him read every label on the shelves looking for something aromatic and woody. As we stand in front of our house cradling the precious bottles, I take a deep breath. You can tell Stu’s been in charge of the household as every conceivable light is on and I can hear the excitable screams of girls running up and down the hallway.
‘It’s a bit of a madhouse, you know?’
He laughs. ‘Youngest of four. It’ll be fine.’
I smile and open the door. As soon as I step in the house, I’m accosted by Eve whose hair is washed but not dried or combed so it makes her look vaguely like a little feral beast child we acquired in the woods. She wears a vest and knickers and a superhero cape. I lift her on my hip.
‘Mummy! You have returned! Who are you?’
Tim smiles at the regal if slightly forward greeting.
‘Eve, this is Tim from the office. He’s come round for pizza. Pyjamas? Hair dryer?’
‘Uncle Stu didn’t know how to work it so he said I could air dry. Are you staying the night, Tim?’
Tim laughs. ‘No, just here for dinner.’
‘Get upstairs, comb your hair and put on some clothes.’
‘Yes sir, Mummy sir.’
‘How was swimming?’ I shout up as she scrambles up the stairs.
‘Wet.’
Tim grins broadly. I lead him into the kitchen where it looks like there’s been some sort of riot involving pepperoni and child-sized cutlery. Mr T saunters up next to Tim to have a perfunctory smell. I remember a time when the dog would launch himself at anyone who’d come through the door. Now he just checks if they’re packing bacon and treats. Tim gives him a pat on the head. I assess the damage and decide the best course of action is to reach for wine glasses. Tim is very proactive and fumbles through the drawers looking for a corkscrew. One drawer opens and some cling film jumps up to attack him. I notice a huge box on the kitchen table, the size of a standard laundry basket, unmarked bar an address label. I stare at it for a while. Ever since the dildo, I am cautious of the goods that come into the house. I don’t know what the hell would fit in that though. If it’s a sex toy then I don’t want to know. Tim hands me a glass of wine. I hold it to my lips and take four or five large sips, draining half the glass. To hell if this is aromatic or woody, it’s alcohol and it’s good. I lift the box. It’s lighter than expected.
‘You don’t mind if I just leave you here, Tim? I’ll just check on the little people.’
‘No, go ahead.’
‘Don’t eat that pizza on the table. You don’t know what the kids have done there and Magnum the cat’s probably had a go. I will be back.’
He is seemingly unfazed and sips at his wine. I shuffle along the hall and gallop up the stairs. Where the hell is Danny? Why does it sound like there’s another swimming lesson happening in the bathtub? Why are all the effing lights on? I go around flicking switches and picking up wet towels off the floor. Stu is many things but he’s no Mary Poppins. He’s not even Mrs Doubtfire. When I open the bathroom door, Polly is sitting up in the bath with her baby hair formed into soapy devil horns whilst Stu is topless and using his T-shirt to mop up pools of water on the floor. Polly beams to see me but is also having far too much fun flooding the bathroom. Eve’s hair is still a wet tangled mess but she’s traded the superhero cape for fairy wings.
‘Why was your phone going to voicemail?’ I ask.
‘It were dead. What’s in the box?’
‘Don’t know, it’s addressed to Danny. Where is he? I need to chat to him. We’ve got company downstairs. Friend from work. Put on a shirt?’
‘What, like your boss?’
‘No…but…have you tried calling Danny today?’
He shrugs and starts rinsing out Polly’s hair with the tumbler we use to hold our toothbrushes. I say nothing.
