Page 25 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
‘He’s the one with the thin moustache like a lost pube and the slacks and vest.’
We both glimpse him through the window. I think that’s a monocle attached to him. Will he get that out to inspect the food?
‘Oh, and I need to tell you something. This is awkward but I am going to touch you. Is that OK?’
He says his words hesitantly. I mean, we’ve just met. Does he want a hug? We’re both exhausted new parents and I’m up for some bonding if he wants. I put my arms out to tell him I’m ready. He looks at me curiously, reaches up for my armpit and quickly tugs down, handing me the price tag in his hand. I hug him anyway.
It turns out rillettes is a chunky pâté. Magnus was happy. I had a homemade Scotch egg that was locally sourced, fed on grain and coated in more than just breadcrumbs – maybe some sort of extremely healthy seed. In any case, I was so hungry by the point it arrived that I picked it up and ate it like an apple. And I thought what an idea it’d be to batter a Scotch egg and serve it with chips. Naturally, I’d tell Will but he’s sitting at the opposite end of the table while I’m with Magnus to my left and Joyce, the office manager, to the right. Joyce likes a velveteen moccasin, she has a cat called Chunk and played it safe with the soup of the day which was green and cold and not what she expected.
‘I remember when my two were babies. Seems like yesterday,’ she says. Except they’re nineteen and twenty-two respectively, moved out and are living in Kent, but I don’t argue with her about the concept of time.
‘Will is so proud to be a dad, you can see it at work. He’s got pictures up of Joe all over the place. He really is a sweetheart.’
Joe or Will? I want to ask without sounding needy if there are any pictures of me but I like the idea that photos of Joe stare at Will all day, that he gets to spend some time in his son’s company. It’s been an odd evening. I haven’t minded being with Magnus and Joyce but this has not been the evening sold to me. I wanted some quality time with Will. I wanted to feel relaxed. But I only managed a few sips of wine before I really felt it go to my head and I am clock watching thinking about Joe. I dropped him off at 6.30 p.m. and filled him to the brim with milk at Emma’s but ideally, we need to leave here at 10 p.m. for me to be able to feed him. It’s 9.57.
‘Excuse me, I just need to absent myself to the loos.’ I try and locate Will but his end of the table is empty. I find my way to a quiet corner of the pub and text Ems.
How is he?
He’s fine. He just took a bottle.
He never takes a bottle.
Usually because you’re nearby and he can smell your boobs. He’s had another feed and then I’ll get him down for another nap.
My shoulders slump. Joe was going to be my excuse for us leaving.
Should my boobs hurt? They’re getting quite hard, almost painful.
Express?
Where?
Anywhere? Meg once expressed into a Fanta can at a Take That gig. I used to do it at work. I even expressed into a paper cup once in the staff room. It’s that or clogged milk ducts and abscesses and then you will know real pain.
You’re both feral.
This is your life now. Just get on with it. And Joe is fine. Take your time.
I stare down at my phone. The pub hums around me. I want to go home. The gents door opens and Will emerges, followed by Philip, who pats him on the back and carries on through to the restaurant.
‘You OK?’ Will asks, coming over to put a hand around me.
‘I think? I was worried about Joe.’
His expression changes immediately. ‘Do we need to leave? Is he alright?’
‘He’s fine. Ems, as usual, has it all under control. She’s just told me to decant my tits in the sink though so they don’t go humungo.’
He chuckles but sighs with relief. ‘What a night. Thank you for being here, for humouring everyone. I do bloody love you.’ He stumbles as he makes that declaration.
‘How drunk are you?’ I ask him.
‘Drunk enough so I’m fun and breezy and don’t punch Philip in the monocle.’
I bring him in for a hug and he clasps me tightly. This is what I miss: long hugs in dark corners where he whispers funny snippets of nothing into my ear. The ladies bathroom door is behind me, and he puts his head through tentatively and pulls me inside. Oh. We’re doing that? I’m so not prepared for us to have public-space sex. Not to mention it’s the first time we’ve had sex in forever too.
‘Dude. Now?’
