Read Online Growing Pains of a Hapless Househusband by Sam Holden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sam Holden
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it!'
I pushed away, this time rather too violently, causing
Emily to spill her glass of wine down my front.
'Oops,' she went matter-of-factly.
'Sorry,' I said.
'It's all right, it didn't go over me.'
Emily edged back. I could feel my heart thumping,
and I was glad that Daisy hadn't walked in when things
were looking decidedly dodgy.
'Emily,' I said. 'I wish you wouldn't . . . you know . . .'
'Try to kiss you? Why not?'
She was so unabashed, it was extraordinary.
'Because I'm married and I love my wife, that's why.'
I tried not to sound pious, but I'm sure I did.
'Very moral of you.'
'Yes, well, I am very moral.'
'Really?'
'Yes. I don't like cheating – I don't think it's right.'
'But what if nobody knew?'
'That's not the point. And besides, they usually do.'
'Do they?'
'Yes. Come on Emily, how do you think we all know
about what you got up to?'
'Got up to when?'
'Well – you know – on holiday in Greece.'
'What do you know about Greece?'
I could feel myself uncharacteristically blushing.
Nevertheless, there was no going back.
'About you and those two fishermen in the beach
hut.'
'Two fishermen in a beach hut?'
'That's what I heard.'
Emily scoffed at that.
'What a load of rubbish,' she said.
'Really?'
Silence.
'Yes. Really. It wasn't a beach hut, it was a hotel room
thank you very much. And it wasn't two fishermen. It
was three. Now then, what would you like for lunch? Do
you like kebabs?'
Unsurprisingly, I didn't have much of an appetite.
Thursday 14 February
Valentine's Day today, and guess who forgot? Both of
us. It wasn't until halfway through the afternoon that I
remembered. So when Peter got back from school, we
called Sally at the office. The children wished her happy
Valentine's in unison, and then I got on the phone.
'I'm so sorry,' I said, 'I totally forgot. I haven't even
got you a card or anything.'
Sally laughed.
'No problem. In fact, I have to confess that I forgot as
well.'
'So we're both in the doghouse,' I said.
'Yup,' she said.
'Have you got people around?'
'Yup.'
'OK, love you loads.'
'Me too.'
I think we should just give up Valentine's Day from
now on. It's such a bunch of crap, it really is. It's just an
excuse for card companies to make a fortune selling
their crappy wares, complete with naff rhymes and
quilted pink covers. And it's a racket for restaurants as
well. When Sally and I last went out on Valentine's night
(a long time ago), we were treated like cattle, and sat
mooning at each other as the wrong dishes arrived and
the champagne was warm and the bill was £134.89 not
including service and fuck that for a game of soldiers we
said as we waited in the rain for a cab that didn't come
because they were all being used by similar mugs who
felt obliged to go out on Valentine's bloody night.
As an act of rebellion against all this, after supper, I
got Peter and Daisy to make a couple of cards for Sally,
which were actually pretty good. Peter's drawing skills
are now almost as good as mine, and he drew Sally a
lovely soldier killing some aliens. With a giraffe. Daisy
sort of scribbled something pink, which she said was
'The Night Garden', so I believed her.
Although Sally got back late and tired, the cards
certainly cheered her up. There's still a coldness in the
air after our row about WonderHubby , which we have
unspokenly (is there such a word?) agreed not to
mention. She knows that I am too pig-headed not to
give it a go, and I know that she will never agree to it.
Therefore no point in arguing.
Something else which there was no point in telling
Sally about was Emily's behaviour the other day. It
would only have ruined the couple of hours we had
together before we went to bed, and I certainly didn't
want to jeopardise any Valentine's night action. (I do
sort of believe in Valentine's.)
Sunday 17 February
I do hate being in limbo. It's not that I'm expecting
anything from Dom immediately, but I just want to
know whether I'm going to spend the rest of my
I pushed away, this time rather too violently, causing
Emily to spill her glass of wine down my front.
'Oops,' she went matter-of-factly.
'Sorry,' I said.
'It's all right, it didn't go over me.'
Emily edged back. I could feel my heart thumping,
and I was glad that Daisy hadn't walked in when things
were looking decidedly dodgy.
'Emily,' I said. 'I wish you wouldn't . . . you know . . .'
'Try to kiss you? Why not?'
She was so unabashed, it was extraordinary.
'Because I'm married and I love my wife, that's why.'
I tried not to sound pious, but I'm sure I did.
'Very moral of you.'
'Yes, well, I am very moral.'
'Really?'
'Yes. I don't like cheating – I don't think it's right.'
'But what if nobody knew?'
'That's not the point. And besides, they usually do.'
'Do they?'
'Yes. Come on Emily, how do you think we all know
about what you got up to?'
'Got up to when?'
'Well – you know – on holiday in Greece.'
'What do you know about Greece?'
I could feel myself uncharacteristically blushing.
Nevertheless, there was no going back.
'About you and those two fishermen in the beach
hut.'
'Two fishermen in a beach hut?'
'That's what I heard.'
Emily scoffed at that.
'What a load of rubbish,' she said.
'Really?'
Silence.
'Yes. Really. It wasn't a beach hut, it was a hotel room
thank you very much. And it wasn't two fishermen. It
was three. Now then, what would you like for lunch? Do
you like kebabs?'
Unsurprisingly, I didn't have much of an appetite.
Thursday 14 February
Valentine's Day today, and guess who forgot? Both of
us. It wasn't until halfway through the afternoon that I
remembered. So when Peter got back from school, we
called Sally at the office. The children wished her happy
Valentine's in unison, and then I got on the phone.
'I'm so sorry,' I said, 'I totally forgot. I haven't even
got you a card or anything.'
Sally laughed.
'No problem. In fact, I have to confess that I forgot as
well.'
'So we're both in the doghouse,' I said.
'Yup,' she said.
'Have you got people around?'
'Yup.'
'OK, love you loads.'
'Me too.'
I think we should just give up Valentine's Day from
now on. It's such a bunch of crap, it really is. It's just an
excuse for card companies to make a fortune selling
their crappy wares, complete with naff rhymes and
quilted pink covers. And it's a racket for restaurants as
well. When Sally and I last went out on Valentine's night
(a long time ago), we were treated like cattle, and sat
mooning at each other as the wrong dishes arrived and
the champagne was warm and the bill was £134.89 not
including service and fuck that for a game of soldiers we
said as we waited in the rain for a cab that didn't come
because they were all being used by similar mugs who
felt obliged to go out on Valentine's bloody night.
As an act of rebellion against all this, after supper, I
got Peter and Daisy to make a couple of cards for Sally,
which were actually pretty good. Peter's drawing skills
are now almost as good as mine, and he drew Sally a
lovely soldier killing some aliens. With a giraffe. Daisy
sort of scribbled something pink, which she said was
'The Night Garden', so I believed her.
Although Sally got back late and tired, the cards
certainly cheered her up. There's still a coldness in the
air after our row about WonderHubby , which we have
unspokenly (is there such a word?) agreed not to
mention. She knows that I am too pig-headed not to
give it a go, and I know that she will never agree to it.
Therefore no point in arguing.
Something else which there was no point in telling
Sally about was Emily's behaviour the other day. It
would only have ruined the couple of hours we had
together before we went to bed, and I certainly didn't
want to jeopardise any Valentine's night action. (I do
sort of believe in Valentine's.)
Sunday 17 February
I do hate being in limbo. It's not that I'm expecting
anything from Dom immediately, but I just want to
know whether I'm going to spend the rest of my
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