Page 57 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
Yeah, it was.
Track Thirteen
‘Keep Your Head Up’ – Ben Howard (2011)
Do you know what I had this morning? I had a really long shower. The one I’d been hoping to have about a month ago. I stood there under Emma’s multi-jet showerhead and let the water rain over me, washing away everything. I’d have shed some tears if I had any left but it felt good to wash my hair and not be hopping about listening for Joe wailing. Emma also buys the expensive shampoo that has extracts of natural crap that will make me look like I’m worth it.
I don’t know how I feel this morning. I’m pretty numb. I drunk dialled Mum last night so she came to intervene and shout at Emma and fish me out of my bath bed. I have no idea what Will’s doing or what last night meant. It feels better to try and sort this out in proper clothes though, without Lucy’s punch concoction, in the quiet of a new day. We were drunk and we need to have proper conversations to put us right. He’s probably at home now with a cup of tea watching Saturday morning football rubbish. I look at myself in the mirror, back in my normal uniform of T-shirt, hoodie and leggings. This feels more like me. Hold it together, Beth. For Joe. For us. Downstairs, there’s an awkward sense of quiet. I gave the sisters and my mother a limited version of events. If they’d heard that Will had kissed someone else then they’d have gone after him with pitchforks and chucked his body on a pyre. Lucy and what looks like some of her university friends are tidying up. She looks like she’s been dragged through a bush and is collecting up bits of old canapés that people left in pots and on windowsills. I can see Emma through the kitchen clutching Joe, and Mum standing by the sink. The once proud bunting that had my face on now lies on the floor, a punch-coloured footprint on one of my faces like there was an assassination attempt on my life during a parade in my honour. Lucy comes up and hugs me immediately. She knows.
‘I’m going to kill Will,’ she whispers to me. I’m glad I withheld the truth now.
This is not beyond Lucy’s remit. If all the sisters were standing over a dead body then you’d hedge your bets on her.
‘You are not.’
‘I am. I will let you choose how we kill him if that makes you feel better.’
I hug her tightly while her friends make themselves scarce and start collecting bottles, taking them out to the recycling. That one looks like Britney Spears from last night but I can’t tell without the wig.
‘You didn’t say anything. Was it building up to this?’ she asks, confused.
‘We’ve had a hard time. He’s just been stressed. And he was working late in the office with this new boss and she’s a bit of a slave driver.’
‘SHE? A woman? Is he shagging his boss? EMMA! WILL IS SHAGGING HIS BOSS!’
Emma pops her head around the door, followed by Mum. All their faces read concern but they also carry those pointed looks, like they’re poised to go on the attack. I know these looks. I remember them from a few Christmases ago when Lucy found Emma’s ex-husband sexting in an upstairs bedroom of our family home and Mum went ballistic and broke his nose. I know where all that collective, protective emotion comes from, but don’t hurt Will. Not yet.
‘He’s not. He has a horrible new boss and he’s also been lying about going out with Jason.’ It feels awful lying to the sisters but I don’t want to reveal the ugly truths just yet.
‘I’ve never liked Jason,’ adds Lucy. Emma doesn’t like where this story is going at all. She suffered years of cheating and lying so looks upset for me more than anything.
‘So this is about that? Or what about that time you guys went out and he let you go home on your own?’ she asks.
‘He did what now?’ asks Lucy, baring teeth. This is why we don’t always tell Lucy everything.
‘That company dinner, I came home early.’
‘On her own,’ adds Emma.
Mum doesn’t need to say anything; her nostrils say it all.
‘It’s just been a difficult time. Joe, a new flat and new job. It’s taken its toll. He’s not taken his foot off the pedal, I can’t see I’m so tired, I just… I guess it just came to a head last night.’
‘So more of a row?’ Mum tries to confirm.
I nod.
‘What exactly did he say?’ my mum enquires.
‘Just that he needed a break, he’s overwhelmed.’ I know my mum won’t respond well to this sort of statement. She likes her men wilful and strong. This sounds far too wishy-washy to her.
‘Do you want me to talk to him?’ Lucy asks.
I know what that will mean. It will be a lecture loaded with sarcasm. I shake my head.
‘Or can I go on social media and post something a bit cryptic and passive-aggressive?’
‘Just don’t scare him off until I know the real score, OK?’
