Page 42 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
‘Came up with it myself.’
‘What’s Polly doing?’
‘Woke herself from a coughing fit. She’s drifting back.’
He tiptoes out of the room, the sash of his gown dragging on the floor. I hear him settle Polly back in her cot and then the light switch goes as he traipses to the toilet, the sound of him relieving himself. Flush. Tap. Maybe I should pretend to go back to sleep. He returns to the room, sitting on my side of the bed, rearranging covers and the pillow that elevates my leg.
‘You in pain? Need some meds?’
I nod. He turns on the bedside light. After popping out some meds he props me up, holding a glass of water to my lips. I have a flash forward to when we’re sixty-four.
‘I think our ballcock needs replacing, that toilet cistern isn’t refilling like it should.’
I don’t know how to respond to that. His boxers have a wet patch where he hasn’t shaken off completely. He taps my ankle like one would the base of a loaf of bread. There’s a look between us. It’s nearly 5a.m. but at some point, we’re going to have to talk. We need to dig out a layer of conversation that goes beyond broken toilets and ankles. So far we’ve just allowed real life to gloss over the issue. We need to fix something else. I go first.
‘I’m sorry I told Stu.’
‘Done now. I’m sorry he’s such a twat sometimes.’
An apology. It’s a start.
‘Now Stu knows, can we tell your mum too? So she’ll stop hating me.’
Danny’s eyes read horror. Gill hadn’t been quite right with me since she witnessed my fight with Stu. I always knew she’d side with her son but I hated that she thought the worst of me.
‘Hate is a strong word. Mum doesn’t hate anyone. Even that cat that poos on her begonias. I’ll make something up.’
I sit there, confused. Captain Mintcake is out now, right? Or is he going to wear this like a secret identity? Does he think he’s Batman? Actually, the thought of a costume is a tad arousing and I think he’d especially go for the idea of a utility belt. However, the problem I have with this whole thing is that it’s remaining a secret. I don’t want my mother-in-law asking me what we got up to last night and me having to make up some lie when really Danny was putting the finishing touches to a threesome in acrylic.
‘I told Emma,’ I inform him, in an attempt to wring out some honesty.
He sits up in bed. ‘What’d you do that for?’
‘Because she’s my sister and I was confused, hurt and I wanted her opinion.’
‘I thought she were being funny with me when she were here. What she think?’
‘She thinks you have a very good anatomical sense of what’s going on down there.’
Danny shrugs off the compliment and pauses. He turns to face me in the bed, a fuzzy leg visible and wrapped around the duvet. This was his signature duvet thief move. He’s leaving me to make all the moves in this conversation, which builds my resentment. I can feel Danny looking up at me.
Not knowing what to say next, I grab my phone from my bedside table.
‘I looked at your Instagram today.’
‘Oh?’
‘I found a picture that lacks realism.’
‘How so?’
I open his Instagram and scroll through for the offending piece.
‘This woman making love to her iPhone. That level of moisture would kill a device. She’d have to put it in rice.’
He looks at me strangely.
‘It was allegorical, commenting on her love affair with social media.’
