Page 68 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
My eyes widen and my heart prickles with sadness.
‘It wasn’t that at all. It really was an accident.’
‘I know. We all know she makes up this shite to divert attention from her husband being a complete slag. I just won’t hear Danny being talked about like that.’
‘I’m glad I know. Thank you.’
‘No problem.’
We glance over at Sarah. I feel many things but mostly sadness. I’ve always been civil to her. I can’t believe the others just follow her like sheep. They’ll believe anything she says.
‘I tell you, if I see another of her passive-aggressive memes or hear her go for Danny again then I’ll have her.’
I don’t want to think about what that entails but I hope I can be there when it does happen.
‘You lucked out there with Danny, you know.’ I know. ‘I mean I wouldn’t trade my Ian for the world but I always thought Danny was set for bigger things, that he’d go exploring and trade up.’ Ithinkthat might be a compliment. ‘He still decent?’
My eyes widen in horror. Did she just say that?
She smirks. ‘Lad had moves.’ She’s doing this at soft play, isn’t she? ‘When we heard he were coming back to Kendal, we were all wondering about the lucky bird who ensnared him.’
She makes me sound like a bird of prey. I scrunch my face up almost territorially. She reads my expression and laughs.
‘But that’s long gone. He were a quiet moody bastard too.’ I nod; we can agree on that much.
‘Who does your hair?’
Ah, there it is. She’s going to attack my split ends now. ‘Ummm, no one really.’
‘Well, when you’re ready, you come and see me.’
I smile. It’s like we’ve both walked up to the line drawn in the sand and shook hands. That was a sweet thing to do, to defend someone you used to have feelings for. It’s really grown up, probably more grown up than me.
‘She told people I had implants put in me arse. Who the heck wants their bum to look bigger?’
I look sheepish as I believed that rumour. She laughs at my reaction.
‘Squats, love. Kids made me arse cheeks droop down me thighs. Had to lift it back up somehow. Ian’s an estate agent, he’s not a millionaire.’
I giggle. Behind me, Vicky emerges, looking a bit cross that I’m ruining her entrance and carrying what looks like a three-tiered ombre cake with sparklers, candles and all three birthday children’s names made out of iridescent fondant. Someone starts singing. In the wrong key so we’re all stretching for the high notes in the end. One child is sobbing in the corner because he can’t see the cake. There’s an odour in the room that makes me think someone may have wet themselves. We reach chaos mode yet again as kids wait for cake and start throwing sachets of salt at each other. Sarah watches us both closely. ‘Ignore her,’ says Briony.But there’s too much noise. And I’m not sure if I know how to mute the volume.
There’s something about the first inhalation of air after you step out of a soft play. The air feels clean and quiet again, it’s a chance to restore your sanity and feel less murderous. Eve, a whistle in her mouth, skips down the pavement clutching a bit of cake in a napkin, having stuck a line of emoji stickers down my coat. I wasn’t quick enough – she got to the Haribo in the party bag before I could. This would be the opportune moment to take her to a rave and have her bounce off the walls so she can come down. She runs on the spot in a six-year-oldFlashdancestyle.
‘Mummy, can I have a dance party for my birthday?’
I hate these conversations. We have six months to prepare for it and every party she will attend between then and now will become a comparative exercise whereby she’ll change her mind and get swayed by whatever the craze happens to be, whether it be cupcakes, ceramic painting or slime.
‘Will I have to dance?’
‘No, because that would be awful.’
I laugh trying not to act offended. If it means I just fire up a playlist to our Bluetooth speaker in a church hall then I might be in. My phone suddenly rings, an unknown number.
I pick up. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello Mrs Morton, Meg? It’s Mike McArthur here from Ferney Green Primary School.’ I stop in my tracks and pull my shoulders upright. ‘I know it’s the weekend but I was wondering if you were at all free? Now maybe?’
Now?There’s a strange urgency in his voice that rouses panic in me. Is this about the girls? If this is school related, why is he calling me at the weekend? Has he heard from his wife or the grapevine that Danny is a stair pusher? Is this an intervention?
