Read Online Out on a Limb by Lynne Barrett-Lee - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lynne Barrett-Lee
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Contemporary, Contemporary Women, Mothers and daughters, Parent and Adult Child, Single mothers
Ads: Link
my house, in his car.
The man I am no longer seeing. The married man I am no longer seeing. The man who promised he wouldn’t do this. And he’s parked in my parking space, to boot. Which means I have to slot myself into Mr Davidson’s one, which will inflame an already inflamed situation unless I make sure I unslot myself pretty damned quick. I park across the road hastily and irritably and have already jumped out of my car by the time Charlie’s meandering languidly to meet me.
The first thing I register is that he looks very tired.
And the second is that I’ve no business registering such things. How Charlie looks is no longer my business.
I spread my arms, palms up, as he approaches.
‘Charlie, for God’s sake. What d’you think you’re doing?’
H e holds his own hands aloft. ‘It’s Tuesday,’ he says. And then, noting my expression, ‘It’s okay . I already watched him go.’
Which would be absolutely fair comment were we still together, because Tuesdays (7 till 10 pm at any rate) were when Seb went to five-a-side and Jake went to youth club – still does – and thus became one of those pockets of time that bad people with bad things on their mind tend to fix on. I first had sex with Charlie on a Tuesday. I last had sex with Charlie on a Tuesday. Oh, oh, oh. It’s all so seedy . Tuesdays leave such a bad taste in my mouth. Though it’s no longer relevant and I really mustn’t dwell. Tuesdays, from now on, are Badminton Night. An altogether more wholesome form of exercise. I reach back into the car and get my racquet and towel out.
‘Charlie, this is not about it being Tuesday or otherwise. It’s about the fact that we are over .’ I start marching towards the house.
‘Half an hour. A cup of tea. Where’s the harm in that? Look –’ he’s caught up now. ‘You were the one who said we could be friends.’
‘I lied,’ I retort. He ignores this. Utterly. ‘And if we’re friends, where’s the harm in you acting like one and letting me come in for a cup of tea?’
Charlie always drinks tea because coffee gives him heartburn. Ca momile. Blackcurrant. Spiced apple. Green. I have an awful lot of packets of tea bags in my house. And nobody to drink them any more. (Memo to self. Abbie, just throw them away .) ‘ Because , Charlie, okay? Because .’ I’ve got my door key out now. He’s showing no signs of going. ‘How many more times am I going to have to say it? Anyway, what about my mother?’
‘Your mother’s not here.’
Rats. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Because Dee told me yesterday. She’s gone back to your sister’s.’ I scowl at him. He smiles at me. I scowl some more. He strokes my arm. ‘Come on. How’s it been? You look seriously stressed out –’
‘I am seriously stressed out.’
And I’m not sleeping either. I just lie there and fret. He strokes my arm a second time. ‘Then let me in and you can tell me all about it.’
‘I don’t want to tell you all about it.’
‘Yes, you do. You know you do.’
I don’t, but I let him in anyway.
Chapter 6
A NOTHER EMAIL . A M MOST impressed. Or, oh dear. There’s a thought. Is he bored? Lonely? Missing home? Missing Jake? Missing me ?
Howdy mum,
Venice. Done; St Mark’s square, St Mark’s basilica, Bridge of Sighs, Rialto, Peggy Guggenheim collection… NOT. Actually, we got train to Padua and had v good time. Venice very smelly. Would have got you some glass but would no doubt smash it. So didn’t. Tell J it’s okay about the X Box. S xx
Aw, aw, aw. It’s not fair. I want to go to Venice. I want to be there. And what about the X-box, exactly?
Okay, okay, okay. I know I shouldn’t have let him in. But it was okay. We didn’t do anything. I made him a cup of tea (green tea, with mango), I told him all about it – the gist of things, anyway – and then he insisted on giving me a shoulder massage, because of course, as ever, he was absolutely right. Mine were up to my earlobes – though it
The man I am no longer seeing. The married man I am no longer seeing. The man who promised he wouldn’t do this. And he’s parked in my parking space, to boot. Which means I have to slot myself into Mr Davidson’s one, which will inflame an already inflamed situation unless I make sure I unslot myself pretty damned quick. I park across the road hastily and irritably and have already jumped out of my car by the time Charlie’s meandering languidly to meet me.
The first thing I register is that he looks very tired.
And the second is that I’ve no business registering such things. How Charlie looks is no longer my business.
I spread my arms, palms up, as he approaches.
‘Charlie, for God’s sake. What d’you think you’re doing?’
H e holds his own hands aloft. ‘It’s Tuesday,’ he says. And then, noting my expression, ‘It’s okay . I already watched him go.’
Which would be absolutely fair comment were we still together, because Tuesdays (7 till 10 pm at any rate) were when Seb went to five-a-side and Jake went to youth club – still does – and thus became one of those pockets of time that bad people with bad things on their mind tend to fix on. I first had sex with Charlie on a Tuesday. I last had sex with Charlie on a Tuesday. Oh, oh, oh. It’s all so seedy . Tuesdays leave such a bad taste in my mouth. Though it’s no longer relevant and I really mustn’t dwell. Tuesdays, from now on, are Badminton Night. An altogether more wholesome form of exercise. I reach back into the car and get my racquet and towel out.
‘Charlie, this is not about it being Tuesday or otherwise. It’s about the fact that we are over .’ I start marching towards the house.
‘Half an hour. A cup of tea. Where’s the harm in that? Look –’ he’s caught up now. ‘You were the one who said we could be friends.’
‘I lied,’ I retort. He ignores this. Utterly. ‘And if we’re friends, where’s the harm in you acting like one and letting me come in for a cup of tea?’
Charlie always drinks tea because coffee gives him heartburn. Ca momile. Blackcurrant. Spiced apple. Green. I have an awful lot of packets of tea bags in my house. And nobody to drink them any more. (Memo to self. Abbie, just throw them away .) ‘ Because , Charlie, okay? Because .’ I’ve got my door key out now. He’s showing no signs of going. ‘How many more times am I going to have to say it? Anyway, what about my mother?’
‘Your mother’s not here.’
Rats. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Because Dee told me yesterday. She’s gone back to your sister’s.’ I scowl at him. He smiles at me. I scowl some more. He strokes my arm. ‘Come on. How’s it been? You look seriously stressed out –’
‘I am seriously stressed out.’
And I’m not sleeping either. I just lie there and fret. He strokes my arm a second time. ‘Then let me in and you can tell me all about it.’
‘I don’t want to tell you all about it.’
‘Yes, you do. You know you do.’
I don’t, but I let him in anyway.
Chapter 6
A NOTHER EMAIL . A M MOST impressed. Or, oh dear. There’s a thought. Is he bored? Lonely? Missing home? Missing Jake? Missing me ?
Howdy mum,
Venice. Done; St Mark’s square, St Mark’s basilica, Bridge of Sighs, Rialto, Peggy Guggenheim collection… NOT. Actually, we got train to Padua and had v good time. Venice very smelly. Would have got you some glass but would no doubt smash it. So didn’t. Tell J it’s okay about the X Box. S xx
Aw, aw, aw. It’s not fair. I want to go to Venice. I want to be there. And what about the X-box, exactly?
Okay, okay, okay. I know I shouldn’t have let him in. But it was okay. We didn’t do anything. I made him a cup of tea (green tea, with mango), I told him all about it – the gist of things, anyway – and then he insisted on giving me a shoulder massage, because of course, as ever, he was absolutely right. Mine were up to my earlobes – though it
Similar Books
