Chapter 10

TEN

Zoe

I NEED ALL THE DETAILS BECAUSE JACK IS NOT REPLYING TO HIS TEXTS.

I stand in this rather large hotel bathroom and look at myself in the mirror, just wearing my knickers and Jack's t-shirt, looking over Mia's message. I splash my face with water. I don't know how to answer her. Maybe I should tell her I don't know what she's talking about. Jack? Didn't see him. I'm not wearing a t-shirt that smells like him. I haven't inhaled the t-shirt. I just had a lovely time in my giant bathtub and ordered pizza and cheesecake for one in my hotel room and watched Graham Norton. What did you think happened, Mia? I didn't have sex FOUR TIMES with Jack. I didn't get naked with him. His penis was nowhere near me. He didn't have my nipples in his mouth. I certainly didn't come so hard that I apologised profusely to the furniture in the room because I was in some complete state of shock.

I stare into the mirror at the woman standing before me. My curls have always been unmanageable but now they're frizzy and unkempt. This doesn't quite feel real; that I have to cup my mouth so Jack can't hear me laughing, tears filling my eyes. You just had sex, Zoe. With a really good-looking young man. I'm torn between telling the world but also just wanting to savour that moment on my own for a lifetime. Look what you did, Zoe Swift. Fucking well done, girl! For some reason, I feel myself punch the air and do a little dance to myself, all in full view of this bathroom mirror. Maybe I should thank Mia and Ed for being so very sneaky, for leading this horse to the water so she could have a long cool drink.

I don't quite know what to do now. We woke early, had lazy morning sex. Again. And since then we've been lying there, chatting. He showed me a scar on his left leg from a school snowboarding trip. He went through his social media to show me the time when he was nineteen and bleached his hair. In return, he asked me questions. He asked me about some woman who I almost forgot existed. I remembered my favourite ice cream is coffee and my favourite holiday was back when I was at university when I went with Kate to Marrakech and we nearly bought a monkey from a man who had it hidden in his trenchcoat.

Jack? Jack from school? Is he OK? Why?

I reply to Mia.

I'll keep her hanging for a little while. I feel I need to tell someone, though. Beth? Kate? Maybe I'll ring down to reception? I re-open the bathroom door and stand there watching Jack as he lies half-naked in bed, the sheet over his waist, flicking through the brochures from the hotel spa as his head rests in his arm and the curves of his bicep appear clearly defined. I did that. Christ. And I bite my lip trying to hold in my giggles. This still feels like an unreal experience that he's there. He stops reading to look up at me and smile.

‘Have you had any texts from Mia yet?' I ask him, propping myself up against the doorframe.

‘Just Ed. I'm ignoring him. I texted my housemate, Ben, to let him know I'm alive, though,' he says, holding his phone up. He pouts. ‘You're out of bed,' he says, patting the space next to him.

‘I was just going to have a shower, freshen up. I fancy breakfast,' I inform him.

‘By my calculations, breakfast will be available for another hour or so,' he says with a cheeky glint in his eye. ‘I have a feeling you haven't had a chance to languish for a while.'

‘Languish. That sounds like something people do when they're dying of typhoid.'

‘I find it can be a wonderful means of restoration.' I would focus on his words, but he moves in the bed so that I can see the curve of his arse through the sheets. I'm not sure what's come over me, but I want to bite it. I don't think that's right.

‘I just need a moment to… regroup…' I tell him. ‘Outside of that bed.'

He laughs. ‘Well, did you want to do anything outside of here? We could grab some food? Maybe go for a walk.'

And for a moment, I stare into space thinking of life beyond this room. A panic comes over me to think of my kids. How I've not really thought about them for the last twelve hours and I don't know if that makes me feel guilty. How I quite liked being here with Jack in this little sex bubble, how it's provided escape, connection, joy – something I so desperately needed. I just don't know how this exists outside of these four walls. I sigh deeply.

‘Breakfast, first. I need coffee,' I say, reaching down to take off his t-shirt and throw it at him. I guess if we're going to be seen outside of this bubble, it starts with the omelette station.

I guess there's a certain sort of clientele I would expect to see at a hotel breakfast buffet. We're in Central London so I assumed tourists, some families and possibly a businessman enjoying some grapefruit segments with a laptop open trading stocks with Tokyo. However, as I walk into this very well-lit room, I see a wall of fruit displayed to the right and remember we're in a spa hotel. The order of the day is resting in jacuzzis, wellness and mud packs. It means that the clientele of this particular breakfast buffet is ninety percent women.

‘Mr and Mrs Rogers, welcome,' the waitress tells me as I give her our room number.

Oh, shit. I'm supposed to be married. Will it matter that we're not wearing rings? Maybe that's just not our bag. I feel Jack reach down for my hand and we follow her through the restaurant, several pairs of eyes on us as we head for a table by the windows that reach from ceiling to floor, revealing a bright London day to us, the clouds clearing over the skyline.

‘Everything available is on our menus today. Can I point you towards our detoxification tea? It's a brilliant start to the day and our granola is made in-house. Let me know if you need anything else,' she says.

I nod and her eyes bounce between the two of us supposed newlyweds. We didn't make much of an effort in terms of make-up, dress and hair, we just seemed to be living off some sex afterglow where nothing else mattered. Jack just threw on a t-shirt and jeans whereas I literally have last night's dress on and some hastily applied mascara, my hair bundled messily on top of my head.

I open up the menu. ‘There was us thinking we'd get a big greasy fry-up and it's mainly egg white omelettes and chia seeds,' I joke.

‘ Salvia Hispanica ,' Jack says.

‘Is that like Huevos Rancheros?' I ask.

He laughs. ‘It's the Latin name for chia seeds. They're a flowering plant in the mint family, native to Mexico.'

‘He studied botany.'

‘The lady remembers correctly.'

He looks over at me and smiles. He has that sort of youth on his side where he doesn't look tired, more sexy dishevelment. All I know is that we stood next to each other in the lift down here, both of us facing forward, catching our reflections grinning at each other and for a moment, I didn't really care what I looked like. However, being in this room now, the feeling is different. There's a large table behind us that look like they're on some girls' weekend. All of them look rested, like they've been steamed and massaged to within an inch of their lives. One of them wears the sort of leggings that define the actual crack of her buttocks, her stomach is on show, and she rests a zip-up hoodie over her shoulders.

‘You don't look relaxed?' Jack asks me, studying my face.

‘There's a lot of women in here,' I mumble, looking down at my menu. I've never seen a longer smoothie list.

Jack scans the room. ‘You are correct. It's me, the omelette man, two waiters and the gay couple in the corner.'

‘They could be friends, even brothers.'

‘He's got his hand on his thigh. I'm going with couple. Oh dear,' Jack says. ‘They caught me looking. Say something funny.'

‘Something funny?'

Jack laughs and takes my hand. I guess to signal to the gay couple that he's attached, fake married even. I giggle in return.

‘So why are all these women making you stressed?' Jack asks.

‘I sense some of them looking, trying to work us out, possibly checking you out?' I say. And just like clockwork, the lady with the very revealing leggings walks past our table, and I glance up to see her trying to catch Jack's eye. I don't know how to react but Jack snickers as she walks past.

‘You noticed that, too?' I say, pulling a face.

‘Zoe. You think I'm going to dump you at a breakfast buffet for someone wearing indecent leggings?'

‘Well, no… but…'

‘Because I'm looking at her and it screams high maintenance, attention seeker. She's videoing the buffet which tells me she's some sort of influencer. I don't think I'm meant to be with someone who takes selfies with fruit salad.'

His gaze doesn't move from mine, and I smile back. ‘I am going to see if they do some sort of coffee in this place. Can I get you a cup?' he asks sweetly.

I nod and watch as he leaves the table, several pairs of eyes following him as he does. I wonder how this looks to other people. Do we appear mismatched? Do we look married? Are they judging me? I try to work out the big group behind us and see one of the group is wearing a big badge on her jumper with a ‘40' on it. It's a birthday gathering. The lady on the badge looks up at me and smiles. That was me three years ago. But it wasn't. Kate took me to Zurich for the weekend. And I think back to a time when Brian gifted me a card that told me he couldn't wait to be around for the next forty years, and he gave me a bracelet with my birthstone in it. We then went out for a posh dinner. I had sea bass. I need to get rid of that bracelet.

‘Coffee for the lady. I also peered at our options. There is a nice-looking Eggs Benedict, lots of avocado, too, if that's your thing,' Jack says, returning to his seat. ‘I also got you some fresh orange juice. They have that machine where you can see them squishing the oranges.'

I smile to see how that's provided him with so much amusement. I take a polite sip, just as two people walk past wearing just robes and the hotel slippers.

‘At least we put actual clothes on,' Jack jokes. ‘You still look like you're on edge,' he says, adding some milk to his coffee and stirring in some sugar.

I shrug my shoulders. ‘It's just an interesting experiment to be out with you. In public.'

‘I like it. It feels like we're doing something normal. I can see how you take your coffee. I can learn a bit more about you.'

He leans in over the table, and as much as I want to kiss him, right here, right now, it still doesn't feel quite right to do that here. People are eating, for a start.

‘Poached eggs. If you want to know something about me, I love a poached egg,' I tell him.

‘Then that's where we'll start. Stay here, get comfy – let me. With smoked salmon, English muffin, spinach?'

I'm not sure how that was written on my face but that sounds perfect. I nod and he wanders away again as I take in the view.

‘Well, she's obviously older?' I suddenly hear a voice coming from the other table. My ears tentatively turn to the conversation as I pretend to sip my coffee. I can only suppose they're talking about me. I spy bottles of organic champagne on the table which tells me they're here for the health but also the mimosas with the freshly squished oranges. Someone tells the woman to shush.

‘Maybe he's a kindly cousin or relative that's taken her out for the weekend,' one of them cackles. ‘I don't think they're together, together.'

‘Maybe she's rich. Like he's a toyboy.'

The lady with the big 40 badge catches my eyes and blushes hard, trying to quieten down her friends and family. I try to focus on the river and streets below. And I think about what they would have said if it had been Mia and Ed here. Knowing what I do about Mia, she would shut them up, for sure. There would be an orange juice massacre. But what if it was Brian? They'd leave us alone. We'd look like a couple in their forties enjoying a weekend away. We'd have blended into the background, and they'd move their attentions elsewhere. I'm not sure how I feel to suddenly be so visible.

Jack returns to the table, and I see eyes following him.

‘All ordered, they will bring it over. I also went for a seed sprinkle which I apologise for but your man at the egg station said something about omega-3 and I was sold.'

‘He's not wearing a ring. I don't think they're together,' a voice drifts in again.

Jack raises his eyebrows to hear it. Given his back is to them, it's far easier for him to signal his disapproval in his face.

‘What else have they said?' he whispers.

‘All sorts,' I say, trying to hide my face. ‘They think I might be super rich, and you are perhaps my toyboy.'

‘Rude. Are you rich, though? Could I hit you up for some Armani?'

I laugh but he studies my face, and I see his eyes change to realise my sadness at it all, that this group of women feel it appropriate to shame me. He turns around in his chair. Whoa, don't do that.

‘Morning, ladies. Just checking, do you have any spare sugar on your table?' They all stare at him for a moment before someone hands a white ramekin over. I feel every inch of me freeze. What is he doing? Please don't. ‘And happy birthday,' he says to the lady in the badge. ‘Is that why you're all here?'

A girl who can't be older than her mid-twenties chimes in. ‘Yeah. That's my Aunty Jade.' She pushes her chest out and flutters her fake eyelashes.

‘Well, we hope you have a lovely weekend. Are you enjoying it? My wife and I think it's amazing here.'

They all turn their gazes towards me.

‘Yeah, it really is,' Jade with the 40 badge says to break the incredibly awkward silence. ‘How long have you been married?'

He turns to me and takes my hand. ‘Oh, five years today. Taking the opportunity to get away from the kids, shag each other senseless and chill in the spa, you know?' I can't seem to breathe. Someone who I think might be Grandma in their party seems to expel orange juice through her nostrils. The table is silent. ‘Best woman I know,' he tells them, gripping my hand even tighter. ‘Enjoy your breakfast, ladies. Thanks for the sugar.'

He turns back to me, and I notice that cheeky glint in his eye again. The same one I saw a few times last night when he was lying next to me, on my bed. I could very well die of embarrassment, right here, right now, but I think I don't mind it. The table behind is silent and a waiter suddenly appears with two of the exact same orders. It's Eggs Benedict but it seems to be served on a bed of cress.

‘Amazing, thank you,' I tell the waiter.

‘You're welcome, Mrs Rogers. Can I get anything else for you?'

I laugh as he says my fake name and he pulls a face.

‘Don't mind her, my wife gets very excited about smoked salmon,' Jack intervenes.

I smirk. ‘I do.'

The waiter looks less impressed and disappears. I watch Jack as he cuts into one of the eggs, poached to perfection. The yolk drips down the salmon and he looks back up at me.

‘Well, eat up, Mrs Rogers.'

‘Really?'

‘Yeah. I told that table I need to shag you senseless and we have to follow through on that,' he says, biting into a piece of toast and raising his eyebrows at me.

I guess we do.

Jack

I think I may have broken Zoe. I don't know whether it was the seed sprinkle or wanting to prove to her that my gaze was solely focused on her but after breakfast, we came back here and as soon as we walked through the door, I led her to the bed, undressing her slowly, paying attention to every part of her. I don't know if she quite believes what's happening, whether she trusts me entirely. This is understandable given what she's been through but for now, I just want her to know she's safe with me. I won't hurt her like her husband has. Never.

For now, she sleeps a little too peacefully, and I arrange her curls on the pillow, slowly running a finger down her spine. She doesn't flinch. Maybe not broken but it's good to see her resting. I see her phone suddenly glowing on the bedside table. It's someone called Kate. I think that's her sister; she mentioned her last night. The phone glows until it goes to voicemail. I ignore it, but then it lights up with a text and I can see a message.

Zoe, pick up. Really important xxx

I glance down at Zoe as her chest rises slowly against the mattress. I look at her phone notifications and see messages pinging in from Dylan. That's her son.

Please pick up, Mum. Please xxx

Have you heard from her?

Mum?

At least twenty notifications have come through in the last hour when I believe we were in the throes of smoked salmon and then some pretty intense orgasms. A call comes in again from Kate and instinct tells me to answer it. This is not a great idea.

‘Fuck me, Zoe, where have you been? You always answer your phone.'

‘Hi, ummm…'

‘Who's this?' the voice says abruptly.

‘I'm Jack, a friend. Zoe can't come to the phone right now. She's in the toilet.'

‘Has she been in the toilet for the last hour?' Kate snaps back at me.

I'm not quite sure how to answer that. ‘Can I take a message?'

‘I don't know anyone called Jack in my sister's life. Who are you again?'

‘I'm a work colleague.'

‘Where does my sister work?'

‘In a school, she teaches maths.'

I see Zoe stir in the bed and look up at me. She points at her phone, confused. I cover the mouthpiece. ‘It was ringing, I didn't want to wake you. It's your sister. I think something's happened…'

She sits up immediately, taking the phone. Given Kate's volume, I hear everything clearly.

‘Where the hell have you been?' Kate shrieks at her. ‘Check your messages, now.' She switches the phone to speaker and scrolls through her phone, her expression changing, the colour from her face draining.

‘What the actual hell?' she mumbles.

I don't quite know what to do but I move out of bed and put some clothes on. This feels like a situation for clothes.

‘Before you have an actual heart attack, she jumped on a train to Birmingham. She's on the phone to Neil now and we've told her to stay on the line until she's with us. We'll pick her up from the station in an hour and then I'll drive her back to you guys.'

I see the tears welling up in Zoe's eyes and she wipes them away with the palm of her hand. ‘What the hell was he thinking?'

‘Who knows with that man anymore? If I see him, I will literally stab him. Hang up here and call Dyl. He's panicking. I'll let you know when I have Lottie. Just bloody pick up your phone, yeah? And who the hell is Jack?'

She looks up at me. ‘I went to school to work on a project thing. He's a colleague.'

She mouths sorry to me. Kate doesn't respond to that. ‘Love you. All will be fine. Just breathe.'

Zoe nods and the line goes dead. She sits there in bed, a hand to her mouth and it's the same Zoe I saw when she first found out her husband had been cheating on her. The sadness kills me.

‘I'm sorry I picked up your phone. I should have just woken you up. Are you OK?' I ask her.

She doesn't look like she wants to get into the practicalities of that situation, but I can see her mind running through a million different thoughts.

‘Can you get me some water?' she asks. I nod, heading to the desk in the room and pouring her out a glass. She walks over to her suitcase, looking for clean clothes and tying her hair into a bun again. I see her scroll through messages, tears rolling down her cheeks. She starts to make a call, puts the phone to speaker again and I sit on the edge of the bed, eavesdropping.

‘Mum? God…'

‘I'm so sorry I didn't answer, Dyl. Are you OK? Please tell me you're OK?'

‘I've just shut myself in my room. I can't believe Dad did this.'

‘So Liz wasn't there when you arrived?'

‘No, last night we went out for dinner and then this morning, she just appeared at breakfast. Turned up to the Airbnb with pastries and coffees and Dad announced she was going to spend the rest of the weekend with us. That's when Lottie totally lost it.'

Tears start to properly flow from her eyes. I don't quite know what to do but I put a hand to her back. She tries to hold it together so Dylan can't hear how upset she is.

‘Understandable. And then she just left?'

‘Stormed out, screaming and crying.'

‘Well, I don't want you to worry because it turns out she rang Aunty Kate and is currently on a train to Birmingham.'

‘She what?' Dylan says, half-laughing. ‘How did she wing that?'

‘Have you met your sister before?' she jokes. ‘Aunty Kate will go meet her and bring her home, make sure she's safe. Dylan, I don't know what to say. Do you want to be there? I can come and get you. I can book a train for you or get a car to bring you back home. I'm so sorry he's done this.'

And that's when her son starts sobbing and Zoe totally loses it.

‘I'm so sorry, Dylan.'

‘I don't want to be here, Mum. I don't want to do this alone.'

Zoe nods and I see her eyes frantically working out what to do. I signal to her requesting if it's OK for me to talk. She stares at me, but I know what I have to do.

‘Hi, Dylan. My name is Jack. Your mum and I work together, we've been in school today working on a project. Look, let me help. I've got friends in Manchester who I can call. What I'm going to do is get them to pick you up and drive you down to Birmingham so you can find Lottie and your Aunty Kate and then she can drive you back home. Does that sound like a plan? Have you got an address there?'

Dylan pauses for a moment. ‘Mum?'

Zoe scans my face. ‘Yeah, it's fine. We can trust Jack. It's a good idea, then at least you'll be together.'

‘I think it's called Spinners Way. There's a Tesco Express downstairs.'

‘Then that's good. I'll give them a call and get them to pick you up from outside there. Their names are Sarah and Hakeem. They're really nice, just stay on the line and we'll give you all the details you need.'

‘OK.'

Zoe looks at me as I escape to a corner of the room to ring Sarah. Sarah will get involved because she's nosy but also has a halo of solid gold when it comes to people needing help. However, if I have to, I will refer to the time their dog pooed on my pillow. I see Zoe trying to calm her son down, emotion lacing her voice, and all her focus and attention is on him. Is it strange to say that makes her all the more attractive? That maybe shouldn't be at the forefront of my mind right now.

‘Sir Damon, to what do I owe the pleasure?' Sarah says down the phone.

‘Hon, I need a favour. You don't happen to be free today?'

‘Yeah, all OK?'

And as I explain the situation to my friends with bribes of more free pet-sitting, I hear Zoe in the corner of the room. She's on the phone but quite obviously not with Dylan anymore and there is a strength and ferocity there, unleashed.

‘How in the hell did you ever think that was a good idea? So you just let her leave? You didn't follow her? She is THIRTEEN. I couldn't give a flying fuck about Liz right now. Why aren't you with our son? Well, he doesn't want to be there, so I've got someone picking him up. WHO ? It's none of your business. He is old enough to be able to state what he wants, and he doesn't want to be there. Have enough respect for YOUR children to let them make their own decisions… I don't care about your rights as a father… If you're so concerned, then speak to a lawyer… Have you banged your head or something? I DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK!'

And I sit there listening, half giving Hakeem directions but also witnessing Zoe really let go. I suspect she's not spoken to her husband like this since all of this has happened. And he deserves this. When you set fire to your world, you shouldn't be allowed to not feel some of those flames up close and realise what you've done.

And all at once, I feel relieved and proud that she's able to tell him exactly what a complete and utter dick he has been.