Chapter 11

ELEVEN

Zoe

I once watched an episode of Grey's Anatomy where a man had a brain tumour that changed his personality; he acted so irrationally that he went up to a bear when he was camping and got his brother completely disembowelled. Sometimes, when I think of what Brian could possibly do next, I consider that maybe he did have some sort of traumatic brain injury that triggered all of this. Maybe he was hit by a golf ball or hit his head on one of the rafters in the loft. If not, maybe I could hit him in the head. I think I could manage that quite easily.

Lottie is many things: she's independent, she could talk her way out of a paper bag. She's shrewd and streetwise but by that same measure, she is thirteen and the idea of her just walking around the unfamiliar streets of Manchester, on public transport with just her phone and the clothes on her back, makes me slightly queasy. Anything could have happened, she could have ended up anywhere, with the wrong people. I look down at her text.

I hate dad. I am going to divorce him myself. I'm coming home. I'm going to Aunty Kate's xxx

It was sent before she got on the train. So casual, so bloody confident. It's the sort of thing you wish you could bottle up and sell. I kept texting her to tell her how much I love her, and she just replies in rants with abbreviations I still don't understand. I can't be angry because I get it. What was Brian thinking? This was supposed to be a weekend for him to repair his relationship with his children, not a chance to throw Liz into the mix. He's lucky Lottie didn't bare her teeth and just go for her. It's only by the grace of the universe and sheer miracle, she is now safe with Kate and my heart can rest easy.

Who were those people? And who the hell is Jack?

Brian messaged me when Dylan was collected.

Oh, he's just the twenty-nine-year-old man I fucked five times in the space of twelve hours. Who knows where my clitoris is, gave me multiple orgasms after breakfast and who has helped me sort out your mess. YOURS.

I didn't message him that, but I was close. So close. In the meanwhile, I am also aware that the sex bubble has burst. A magical twelve hours in this room came to an end when the curtains were opened and real life flooded in. Jack and I are showered and changed and sit on opposite sides of the room, trying to work out the logistics of getting my kids home. And I guess most blokes would have left by now but Jack stays. He keeps offering me drinks. He gives me updates on where his friends are with Dylan. He disappeared for half an hour but returned with doughnuts. It's a special sort of person who understands how a stressful situation needs fried dough, sugar and jam.

They've just dropped me off. I'm safe. They were really nice.

As soon as Dylan's message drops, I exhale deeply. Not that I didn't trust Jack's friends but at least my kids are reunited and with someone they know. A FaceTime suddenly comes through, and I panic. I have to chat to all of them but I'm still in this hotel room. I jump up from my chair and run towards a blank wall that I can try and blag as home or school.

I press accept and as soon as I see both of their faces on screen, relaxed and safe on Kate's sofa, I start crying. They both stare at me, looking confused.

‘Why are you crying?' asks Lottie. ‘Where are you?'

Independent it would seem but not particularly empathetic.

‘I'm at school, Lottie. I can't believe you. I don't think you realise that you got on a train. On your own. Anything could have happened to you,' I try to explain to her.

‘Yeah, but it didn't. There was no way I was going to spend a minute longer there. With him,' she sneers.

I'm not going to waste my anger and worry on her, but I sigh, shaking my head. ‘And you, Dylan, you OK?'

He forces a smile. ‘Hakeem and Sarah were really nice. Hakeem has season tickets for Man City, he said he'd take me to a game if I wanted.'

He'll never talk to me about his dad and how this really makes him feel and I don't want to force it, especially when we're not in the same room. ‘Then I'm glad.'

‘I'm going to feed them, Zo, and then we'll drive back. You OK?' Kate says, drifting into view. I see her eyes scanning my surroundings.

I nod. ‘Thank you,' I mouth quietly.

‘No worries, sis. They're safe.'

I hang up before the kids have a chance to see me cry again. I throw my phone on the bed and then perch on a corner of it, my head in my hands. They're safe, that's all that matters.

‘Can I give you a hug?' Jack asks me, walking over.

I nod and stand up, allowing myself to just curl into his body, to feel his arms wrapped around me and unlike last night, when the feel of him was electric and filled with some sort of potent charge, it now just feels warm, comforting and I am truly grateful for it.

‘Can I send some money to Hakeem and Sarah? Have you got an address? I can send them some wine,' I tell him, still in hold.

‘It's all taken care of,' he tells me quietly.

‘Thank you.'

‘It's all good.'

We part for a moment and Jack studies my face. ‘I'm sorry. I must look a state.'

He shakes his head. ‘Still beautiful, just a bit puffier.'

I laugh and encourage him to sit down next to me. ‘Talk about real life coming in and interrupting proceedings quite rudely. I'm sorry. Thank you. Seriously. For your help, for all of… this.'

Jack smiles, resting a hand on my thigh. ‘Well, despite the interruption, I enjoyed this very much. And to be honest, I don't think I could have done what we did for another twenty-four hours. Maybe this was the universe telling us we needed to pace ourselves.'

I smile broadly.

‘Please don't worry about me. They're your kids and they deserve all your attention. They really do. I know how much they mean to you.'

I'm pleased to know he's been paying attention to that much. ‘And where do we go from here?' I ask him, curious. ‘Not that I need labels or anything like that, but I don't want to misconstrue anything.'

‘Well, I would like to see you again, Zoe. I really would.'

And I furrow my brow. This is not a simple boy meets girl story, this is messy and it comes with baggage that is still packed, that is still heavy and in the way. I know he doesn't see the age gap but my practical, numbers-based mind dwells on it a little too much. Despite all his compliments, the spark, the very good essence that I feel underpins who he is, I still question whether it's worth his time.

‘You'll likely see me again. We work in the same place.'

‘I mean, I would like to see you naked again.'

I pause. ‘I think I would like that, too.'

‘You think?'

And we both laugh as he grabs one of my hands, kissing it. ‘You just come find me when you need me. I'll be here, waiting.'

‘Naked.'

‘Well, not at school. I hear that's frowned upon.'

I get an Uber home. Jack and I said our goodbyes in the hotel room with a prolonged kiss and a lift ride down to the lobby filled with charged looks and hesitation. When I got home, the house was grey and empty, echoing the cold drizzle that had started to fill the air. I unpacked my bag, put on a load of washing and had a long shower. It was strange. I carry no shame about what happened last night. I feel guilty I missed my kids' calls when they needed me, but I keep experiencing flashbacks to moments of intense joy, feeling echoes of Jack's touch, moments that make me smile wildly. It happened. I just can't let anyone know, not now, and especially after everything that the kids have experienced this weekend.

As soon as Kate's car pulls up to the drive, I run out into the driveway. They come and find me, and both of them nestle me into a long, prolonged hug. I feel complete. I feel an overwhelming sense that all is right again with the world.

Kate suddenly joins the hug. ‘Come on. It's drizzling and I need a big cup of tea. Kettle on, please.'

We all disperse, the kids getting their bags from the car whilst Kate throws her arms around me. ‘You're all flushed, rosy. Are you coming down with something?' she enquires.

I don't quite know how to answer that. That could be the stress of this morning or the orgasms. ‘It's the change of the seasons, isn't it?' It was definitely the orgasms. ‘Were they OK on the drive?' I ask her.

The kids get inside the house, disappearing to the loo and to take their bags upstairs, and I follow, watching their tired bodies mooch around the place.

‘Quiet. I think Brian's been trying to text and plead his case. I could hear them conspiring in the back of the car. He's been attempting to make them feel guilty about the concert tickets and Lottie told him where he could stick them.'

‘Sometimes I do think she's your child,' I tell her. She replies with a smirk. ‘I had a screaming session with Brian before. I can't believe he did this…'

I lead her into the kitchen and Kate stops in her tracks as she takes off her coat. ‘Hold up. You screamed at Brian?'

‘Yeah?'

‘You've not done that yet. You've been all reserved and upper hand. Good for you. You needed to do that.'

As I fill up the kettle, I glance at myself in the reflection of the window. I did do that. I gave that man both barrels and I did not hold back, and I wonder why. What changed? What gave me the confidence and the power to do that?

‘He's driving back tomorrow morning,' I tell Kate. ‘For "crisis" talks.'

‘Well, I'm not going to talk to him,' Lottie tells me as she enters the kitchen, going through the cupboards on the hunt for biscuits and snacks.

‘Can I stay?' Kate asks. ‘I can give him a crisis worth talking about.'

Lottie laughs at her aunt and comes to snuggle in next to me. ‘You look different, Mum.'

‘I thought that,' Kate says.

‘I did one of those nice Korean face masks last night whilst I watched Reacher ,' I tell her, swallowing hard to have to lie. ‘Anyway, we still need to talk about you wandering around the North of England and getting trains on your own.'

‘Are you angry?' she asks me. ‘Dad was pretty furious.'

I look at her face, thinking about all she's been through in the past day, all the emotion that bubbles away inside her and I'm not sure how my fury will help. ‘I'm just… I don't know… Relieved that you're safe.'

‘I did everything you've ever taught me to do. I sat next to an old woman who smelt of soup. I kept a key in my hand in case I needed to stab someone.'

I turn to Kate. ‘It's like your genes literally jumped into my child.' I bundle Lottie into my arms. ‘But you also abandoned Dylan…'

‘Yeah, I felt bad about that,' she admits.

‘How is he?' I ask her.

She shrugs, and I can hear echoes of him crying again on the phone. It brings a lump to my throat.

Dylan enters the room. ‘I'm fine. I just don't walk to talk to him for a while. Is that OK?' I nod and he puts an arm around me, grabbing my shoulder. He also clutches a large brown paper bag. ‘I don't need anything else. But this was an excellent idea, Mum. Love you.'

He puts the bag down on the counter. Nando's? I check the receipt in case Dylan has just accepted delivery of a neighbour's dinner. Right address and by the looks of it, a fair bit of wings – all at differing spice levels. My phone pings, and a message from The Anti-Wanker appears with a chicken emoji. I laugh out loud and Kate narrows her eyes at me. The kids scurry around the kitchen, getting plates, locating phones and washing hands whilst Kate comes and stands next to me.

‘What's the deal with this chicken? This better not be from Brian,' she whispers.

I shake my head. She looks down at my phone, opening it up to see the notification on my screen. Her jaw slackens.

‘You weren't at school today, were you? When I called?' she whispers.

I side eye her. ‘Later. I'll tell you later.'

She widens her eyes at me, and I can't tell if that emotion is horror, surprise or happiness.

Jack

‘Uncle Jack!' the boys scream as they see me, thundering down the stairs. ‘Did you bring food?' they ask me.

‘Yes, I was presumptuous and brought takeaway. How are we feeling for chicken, lads?'

‘Are there chips?'

‘Are there chips? Of course.' The children and my brother cheer, arms in the air. I am a hero.

Dom comes up to me, grabbing the bag. ‘Absolute legend. Literally nothing in these cupboards. Otherwise, we'd be having toast. What's up with you – you look knackered?' he tells me.

‘Charming. I was out last night,' I tell him, following him into the kitchen.

‘Oh, the joys of a night out. I hope you didn't come here to brag about the size of your hangover,' he moans. ‘Lads, clear the living room table and get Ninja Warrior on.' The boys do as they're told.

I won't lie, Dom doesn't keep a very tidy house. There are solo shoes that lie around the place, stacks of letters from school that sit on the kitchen counter, football kit that hangs off every available radiator space. But I've also never met someone so invested in loving his boys. I'll always remember his words to me: now Amy's gone, I have to try and love them twice as much. I tried to help him with that, and I don't think the boys want for anything in that respect. He doesn't sweat the small stuff, he's learnt to prioritise his time by giving what he can to those lads and they always seem especially buoyant about life. So I don't judge. I let him get on with it and prop him up every so often when he needs it.

‘I'm just being a decent and loving brother,' I tell him.

‘Do you want money?'

‘No.'

‘Are you moving back in?'

I moved out several years ago when the boys started school and I convinced myself that Dom could survive without me.

‘Also, no.'

He looks at my face. ‘Jesus Christ. You're coming to me for life advice.'

I don't answer.

‘Little Jack has life dilemmas. Is it work? Did you hit a child? Do you need legal counsel?'

‘No.'

He gets out a selection of mismatched plates, grabs the ketchup from the fridge and starts piling up the chicken wings and chips. ‘Then the only thing left is either your health or your love life…'

‘The latter…'

I see his face rise to a broad grin. ‘Then if this is you coming here looking knackered because you've had sex all night, you can leave.'

I laugh, stealing a couple of chips. ‘You can talk! Didn't you say last night that you needed help because your new school mum squeeze is into weird things?'

He looks through the hallway to ensure the boys are out of earshot and closes the door to the kitchen slightly.

‘God, yes. Her name's Kim. She's into sexting. Because obviously as parents, none of us have time to meet up and shag in real life. She wants pictures and all. I have no idea what I'm doing.'

He says it so matter-of-factly, I can't help but snigger. ‘Well, I love you, man, but I draw the line at taking pictures of your cock for you.'

Dom laughs, snorting a little, and it makes me smile. After everything he's been through, it's always been nice to hear that sound, to level him out with a bit of joy. These days he's some life-beaten dad who forgets to cut his hair, who wears the same five T-shirts because they still fit and who I suspect just gets a lot of joy from a nap on the sofa and an uninterrupted shower. The man is owed.

‘I can give you some tips.'

‘I think she wants more than the tip,' Dom jokes and we both laugh because deep down, our sense of humour never really developed past our teens.

‘Always erect, no one wants a picture of a flaccid penis. Try lying down, instead of standing up. It's all in the angles and the lighting.' He nods, taking it all in. ‘Also, never include your face in the pictures. Protect your penis and your identity.'

‘That's a good slogan,' he chuckles. I open a drawer to look for serving utensils and pull out some shin pads and what looks like part of the vacuum cleaner. Dom looks upon it all and turns his palms up to the air. ‘In my head, it's a reliable filing system.'

I turn to look at the kitchen fridge, at old pictures drawn by the lads. Back in the early days, people newly acquainted to our family assumed Dom and I to be gay as we popped up in all the boys' drawings, all holding hands. Then they'd find out the truth and Dom and I always got the sighs, the glassy eyes. So you're raising those boys together? Like some 80s sitcom? And we would nod. I'll be frank, I always thought it would get us both laid more but it never did.

I look over as Dom gnaws away at some chicken. Again, I like seeing the joy in his closed eyes and happy chomping sounds. He looks up mid-chew. ‘So, tell me of your love life woes then. I can't for the life of me think why you would need me for advice.' He sounds confused. ‘Beers are in the fridge.'

I extract two bottles and find the bottle opener to crack them open. He sups furiously at the top of one and clinks it against the neck of mine.

‘I've met someone. She's older.'

‘Older than me?' he says hesitantly, the lines around his eyes creasing.

I nod.

‘Does she have her own teeth?' he says, mocking me.

‘Shut up. She's forty-three.'

He pauses for a moment, unsure of what to say. ‘That's acceptable, I guess.'

‘It just comes with complications. She's just split up from her husband, there are kids in the picture.'

‘How old?'

‘Thirteen and fifteen.'

He puffs out his cheeks. These are not reactions that instil a lot of faith that he approves. He fiddles with some sauce sachets, putting a hand to his semi-receding hairline that I'm not allowed to talk about. ‘Jack, is it weird that I don't quite know what to say?' he tells me, taking a seat at his kitchen table. I can't quite tell if he's shocked or indifferent.

‘Well, you're not angry. I thought you might just laugh it off and warn me off her.'

‘Do you love her?' he asks, his tone going big brother, semi-serious for a moment.

‘God, no. I've just met her. I don't know. The sex was pretty unreal and we click, there's something there. I can't quite put my finger on it. I feel like we bring out something good in each other. Maybe.'

He laughs under his breath, staring at me. ‘That's quite mature for you.' And I smile because that's how it feels to be with her. It feels grown up, comfortable. It's her sitting on the edge of the bed and not playing games, just asking me what this is and us wanting to do right by each other. I'm not sure I've had that clarity in any other relationship.

Dom looks out through the hallway and into the living room, his eyes fixed on his kids. There's always a way he looks at them that speaks of gratitude but also looks completely overwhelmed by emotion. ‘Jack, the more and more I think about love, I have no clue what it should look like. For me, it was supposed to be me and Amy raising those boys and waiting for them to get big, adding more children to the mix and just existing together for an eternity, but hey, life had other plans, eh?' I glance at him for a moment. All that grief hit Dom especially hard, and I always worry about when it will rear its head and jab him in the guts again. He's dated since but he never talks of anything serious. I don't know if perhaps he's scarred for life or his heart just belonged to the one person, but you can tell how much he misses her, how he thinks about her daily. ‘J-Lo is fifty and I'd tap that in an instant,' he adds.

From heartfelt sentiment to slightly inappropriate. ‘Dom, she'd eat you alive. You don't even know how to take a picture of your willy.'

And he chuckles again, studying my face. ‘Is she nice? Clever? She's not like that girl who wrote you her list of demands, is she?'

‘Her name was Imogen, and it was a list of expectations…'

‘Yeah, you were well rid of that one,' he says, still talking about her with mild disdain.

‘She is nice. Her name is Zoe.'

‘Well, you deserve nice and that's all I'll say. I just…'

I can see him mill through his words wondering the best way to phrase his next sentence. ‘When you left us and the boys, it was almost a relief to me. For the longest time, I thought we'd held you back. Every day I wait to hear that you're going to fly somewhere, do something amazing, but you just stay close.'

‘Armed with chicken, though,' I add, and then I frown. ‘I went on that cruise ship once. I travelled.'

‘And you came straight back.'

‘I'm a homebody.'

‘You… I don't know how to say this… Sometimes I wish you were a little more selfish with your time, your dreams, your life. You invest a lot in people, you're nice and loyal to a fault. I will always respect that. But when I hear you might get with a woman who's got a ready-made family, I worry it will just ground you again when really…' He pauses and gazes at a photo of his wife on the fridge. ‘You have all the time in the world.'

He looks at me wondering if he's crossed a line.

‘I'm just living in the now. Taking it one day at a time. I haven't thought about the future really,' I say, aware I'm trotting out some old, tired lines.

‘I bet she has, though. With kids, it's what you do – you have to put them first. Shit, are you going to be a stepdad?' he jokes.

My eyes widen. ‘Dom, I only slept with her yesterday. I haven't really thought that far ahead.'

‘Then why did you come to talk to me?'

I pause for a moment. Maybe because this did feel different to the very random women I usually date for a few weeks before it fizzles out. Zoe is real, she has a quality about her that speaks to something in me. I think of times looking at her yesterday and feeling so relaxed yet so charged with an emotion I'd rarely experienced before.

‘She had a bit of drama with her kids, her ex was being a dick and she dropped everything for them. I don't know. It reminded me of you.'

He punches me in the arm.

‘How complicated is the situation with the ex?'

‘Together for twenty years, he ran off with her mate.'

‘Ouch. Is he huge? Could you take him?'

‘Easily.'

‘I'll back you up. I'll bring the boys.' We both arch our heads into the living room where the twins jump off the sofa in the same way you see pumas jump off rock faces. Yep, bring them.

‘Well, just look after yourself, you know. Protect your heart. It's a good heart,' he tells me.

‘I'll try.'

‘Have you sent her pictures of your ding-dong yet?' he enquires.

I laugh. ‘No. I had sex with her five times in twelve hours, though.'

He widens his eyes at me, and I can't tell if that emotion is horror, surprise or happiness.