Page 37 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
I laugh to myself.
‘It’s not funny. Apparently, you can’t say ballsacks either…’
I choke a little on my own breath.
‘Where on earth did you…’
It’s Tess’ turn to have a little chuckle. ‘Don’t you know Daddy then?’
I pause as she says it. That’s the thing little chica, I thought I did. I mean, how well do we know anyone really? You can’t open up their brains and spoon their thoughts out to have a look but you assume that marriage gives you licence to access at least eighty-five per cent of everything. I have a moment and kiss the top of Eve’s head.
‘Daddy always says he’s scratching his ballsacks.’
‘And you know what ballsacks are?’
‘They’re the bits behind the willy where Daddy keeps the baby seeds.’
‘He told you this?’ I ask this a little too calmly given they seem to know the ins and outs of baby-making at such a tender age.
‘He sure did.’
And in the most well-timed manoeuvre ever, Danny’s figure appears at the door. Eve bounces off the bed and throws herself at him. He stares over with the glimmer of a smile. I’m not sure what he expects; I’ve nothing left to throw at him bar the paperback in my hands which would hardly leave a scratch and I feel a little bereft to lob good children’s literature at him. His face is ruddy, his eyes sunken. He’s here. This is far from over but he’s here and that’s a start.
‘Come read with us, Daddy,’ gestures Eve.
I nod. He glances at the book in my hands.
‘Am I Mr Twit?’
‘Naturally. I’ll be Mrs Twit.’ I ache to hug him but the dodgy ankle and the girls prevent me. Instead, he throws something in my direction.
‘Peace offering.’
It’s a packet of Jaffa Cakes. I clasp my hand around them. He knew.
Seven
Climax. This picture is just called ‘Climax’. It involves a woman who seems to be climaxing so strongly that her body is vibrating in the fashion you might see a washing machine go in for a final spin. I suspect it would make for quite a good flick book. Rowan stares at the paper intently, nodding thoughtfully. I knew she wouldn’t be the sort to shy away from the content and so far, nothing has shocked her. Not the vaguely seizure-like orgasm or the numerous sketches of penises stood to attention page after page.
‘Bloody hell, Daniel Morton. Who knew the boy had it in him?’
My thoughts exactly. It’s been a week since my discovery of Captain Mintcake. Emma has gone back to London, my ankle is still dodgy and Danny and I carry on with life, marriage and such. In between readjusting to kids, work and learning to walk again, I’ve been digesting Danny’s new canon of work, usually at night, before I go to bed. How am I dealing with it? With looks of disbelief over cornflakes, or staring at the ceiling in bed thinking about why he never told me and wondering what it all means deep down in his psyche. It’s left conversation affected, the atmosphere barbed and awkward. I haven’t probed (not like that) but am just glad that this isn’t a death knell to our marriage. I think it’s maybe why I’m here today.
When Rowan called seeing if I wanted to come over to her house for some tea and chat, I thought the escape might do me good. Rowan’s heart has always been in the right place – on a slightly different cosmic space to mine, yes, but when we first moved to Kendal she was the one who took me under her wing and made sure I felt welcome. She and Rufus were true childhood sweethearts who’d traversed the awkward years of school and college together before travelling the world and ending up exactly where they started. Rufus now ran a small farm making cheese and interesting concoctions with nettles, whereas Rowan was a sculptor and artist. It was all earthy and New Age, from the kids – Sage, Zenith and River – to the ethereal home on the hill which was built by Ru himself and was at least sixty per cent hemp and alpaca products. Despite their differences, Ru and Danny remained the best of friends growing up, that shared heritage of joyriding down country lanes and learning how to roll joints at the beating heart of their friendship. That said, Rowan had promised tea today and intriguingly, also new information. Whatever that may be, I feel safe here. Her friendship and some fresh Lakeland air will cleanse my soul and clear those clouds hovering over me.
‘So, tell me what you know,’ I say.
I sit here knowing little will shock me now. Rowan looks on calmly and smiles.
‘Danny was here – the morning after you found out,’ she tells me.
Is this the new information? He hadn’t told me where he’d been but I’d just assumed he was at work. Again, more lies. Ro reads my confused expression and puts the book down.
‘He showed up at 7a.m. He was crying, Meg. The only time I’ve seen Danny cry was in Year 9 PE when someone hit him in the nads with a cricket ball. He thought he’d really messed up…that you were really angry with him.’
‘I’m not angry, I think,’ I reply.
‘But we calmed him down. I did some meditative breathing exercises with him. Ru took him for a walk, they talked. They then dug a trench and got all that emotion out. It was very cathartic. We made sure he went back to you.’
