Page 75 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
Constable Walsh looks at me now with a look of judgement, like the secretary sat outside the headteacher’s office and what suspiciously looks like a tampon stuck up his nose. I shield my face with my hands to hide my shame and mortification. Danny is the opposite, he feels he has nothing to hide or at least be apologetic for – he adopts a rebel’s slouch in his seat and is close to churning out some sort of rant about how they should be spending our tax money hunting down real criminals, politicians and tax dodgers. In short, the ground needs to swallow us up pretty quickly. Please.
‘Can you at least try to look a little repentant?’ I say.
‘Not my fault he was stood so close to the car.’
‘Danny! You made his nose bleed. Even if it’s an accident, you at least should say sorry…’
I feel like I’m talking to a small child.
‘He should be apologising to us. That light was like a frigging laser in our eyes. He could have blinded us.’
By the way he’s still cupping his nether regions then I assume he’s less concerned about his eyesight but more worried about damage to down below. That and his ego.
‘There’s a better way to dismount a man, you know.’
‘Then next time, I’ll gently hop off when the police are knocking at our car window…’
‘You can break a penis, you know. You could have broken my penis.’
‘What a load of bollocks, you can’t break a penis…it hasn’t got bones in it.’
‘Do you have a penis?’
Constable Walsh is picking up on the drama unfolding in front of him, never mind an apology. He gets to witness a comedy domestic as compensation. This could be far better. I am glaring at my husband.
‘No, I don’t have a penis. I can’t believe it’s taken you eleven years of marriage to realise this.’
I’m going to go dry and sarcastic with him now and that’s dangerous territory. Grow a pair, you absolute tool.
‘There are tubes, a urethra in a penis that you could have damaged.’
‘You’re worried about not pissing right? I’ve had three sodding children. I haven’t pissed right since 2008.’
Constable Walsh hides his face now; never mind he’s seen my bottom half naked, he knows more about it than he really needs. Danny is still sulky, cradling his nether regions. I’ll break it now if you want. He doesn’t dare look at me. Oh, how the tide can turn so quickly. Ninety minutes ago, we were rescuing a threesome stuck in a bathroom. Forty-three minutes ago, we were having some of the hottest post-baby sex we’ve ever had, in the family Volvo, littered with old breadsticks and juice cartons. I felt that spark shiver through me, I felt like my sexual self of old, wanting to be fucked and touched and held. Now we sit here and I could seriously nut him and draw blood, giving each other serious concussions and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid.
‘What are they doing? Are we going to be charged?’
Danny gives me that look wondering what happened to my education.
‘And charge us for what? Like you said, it wasn’t intentional?’
I whisper out the side of my mouth. ‘I believe the sex in the public place thing is pretty much frowned upon.’
‘It’s not like we were strangers doing it on a park bench? Or that there were people about? Two consenting adults, married adults.’
‘Having sex in a car.’
This makes Danny smirk a little. I don’t smirk back. I elbow him before Constable Walsh catches sight of him and thinks he’s totally incapable of repentance.
‘Then why are we here? Maybe you just need to apologise and draw a line under all of this. We need to get back to Stu, the girls.’
He looks at me. I know mention of the girls will strike at Danny’s better conscience. It wasn’t our finest moment being dragged here in the back of a cop car. We were forced to re-dress in the middle of the road as a man rode past on his bike. A bike with a basket no less, carrying loaves of bread. It was like we’d tainted this small Hovis ad village lane with our sordidness. Constable Walsh was still wary given Danny’s profuse swearing so handcuffed him (this didn’t help) and we were both shoved in a car and brought here without any explanation. I am just glad I wasn’t drunk; this is around the time I’d try and use some sort of journalistic swagger to complain about my civil liberties and rights to legal advice.
Danny goes to stand and Constable Walsh puts a hand up.
‘Can you take a seat please? We took the cuffs off on the condition that you behaved yourself.’
I pull him down immediately. He’s baiting Danny for a reaction so he can take this further. It’s cruel but I see the tampon-like thing protruding from his nose: fair play, sir.
