Page 50 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
‘Well, do what you can. It’ll make for an amusing piece in any case. Meg—’
I snap out of my trance. I can’t breathe, let alone speak.
‘Yes?’ I squeak.
‘I understand that this might be difficult for you to take on…’
‘Why’s that then?’ My muscles freeze up.
‘It’s all a bit distasteful and you have young children. It may be the wrong thing for you but that’s your call.’
I look down at the pictures in front of me. There’s one where a man is exploding like a jet wash. I feel nervous, a little sick. But the only way to protect Danny is to take this on and try and deflect Lisa and Tim.
‘It’s fine, Di…really…’
She nods and marches out of the room like she does. Lisa follows, leaving Tim sitting next to me. I pretend to scribble notes.
‘Well, this is a bit different to football scores.’
‘Yes, it is.’ I can feel a ring of sweat forming on my forehead. Soon, it will leave a tide of foundation creeping down my face and shame the truth out of me.
What do you call a Captain’s wife? I’ve seen all the pictures, all of them. Evidently, Danny’s talents mean we’re sat on a goldmine but it’s not about that right now, is it? This is about protecting our family. Tim is staring right at me. Does he know? How would he know? He may have seen me looking at sex sites.
‘Are you doing anything now? Like, you said I should come over – maybe we can chat about this over dinner. Sorry,that sounds like I’m inviting myself around. I know you have kids.’
I look at his spritely face; this is huge to him. It’s a story not talking about penalties, free kicks and lower league football teams, something where he doesn’t have to sit in a cagoule in a wet and windy pitch-side press box on a Saturday morning. I think about the young lad who brought me flowers to my bedside. But I also think about a chance to take the lead on this, to keep him close and have his prying eyes cast in the wrong direction.
‘Do you like pizza?’You should come and meet the man in person.
Ten
There are many things I dislike about my husband. Marriage throws up all those minor flaws and foibles and magnifies them completely so they become things you slightly obsess about; things that would see you murder him in his sleep if you could. He snores on a scale that could shift tectonic plates and he eats ice lollies strangely, inhaling a lot of air on sucking, making this horrendous vacuum-like noise. Never have I wanted to murder him more than in the summer when he has his chops around a rocket lolly.
Today, he’s doing that stupid thing where he’s not answering any of my calls or texts. The Lakes is notoriously bad for phone reception, but once he checks his device, he’ll see I’ve left thirteen missed calls and twenty-three texts, one of which I had to write in the work bathroom and is completely nonsensical due to autocorrect, my nerves and Margaret from accounts who was hovering outside my cubicle.It’s not hard Danny, just pick up the bloody phone.
I sometimes envisage moments where I could be in real peril, hanging off the edge of a cliff face with Mr T and I’d call Danny and nothing, and then I’d fall to my death screaming out, ‘Just bloody answer iiiitttt…’ Pick up, pick up, pick up. Let me tell you everything I’ve just learned and prepare yourself for the fact a young man who knows about Captain Mintcake is coming over tonight. And the fact we could be millionaires. This could be everything. We could have fitted wardrobes and do things that millionaires do like pick up the weekly shop in Harrods. But no, he ignores me. If he’s left his phone at home then I’ll fricking sucker punch him in the throat.
With an hour to kill before I head home, I attempt to do some research by way of Google. Diana wasn’t wrong. Danny was a member of a few sites that I was unaware of and all that connectivity meant that everything was being shared and liked and followed across quite a broad range of social media sites too. In a market that was saturated with artists, he’d captured the imagination of a loyal fan base and amassed a following that most could only dream about. All by accident of course, too. I don’t think Danny wanted this when he set out to explore this creative endeavour. The pseudonym wasn’t some clever marketing ruse but just a way for him to avoid the attention. I have a few websites out on my computer when Tim comes over, coat on and ready for pizza. Maybe this is the point where I come up with an excuse: migraine, puking kid, home emergency.
‘Are you OK with dogs? I have a dog. And a cat.’
Please be allergic.
‘Totally. I didn’t know you had a dog? What’s his name?’
‘Mr T.’
‘Like T-Bone?’
‘No, like the eighties dude with the Mohawk.’ He goes blank. I feel bloody old.
‘Are you browsing the websites then? Found anything interesting?’
‘Some of his spelling is a bit off,’ I say.
Tim nods. ‘He seems to have an aversion to apostrophes. Though I reckon he’s not young, definitely older. Trying to work out if he’s single or married?’
‘Single, I’d say. And I’m going to explore the female angle too.’
