Chapter 12

TWELVE

Zoe

‘I think if I had sex five times in a row, my fanny would just give up on me. It would go into shock,' Kate tells me, sipping at her tea.

‘It wasn't in a row, we had breaks in between,' I tell her.

‘Were there biscuits involved?' she enquires, giggling. She looks down at her phone at the picture on Jack's Instagram, still trying to work it all out. She's confused? How the hell does she think I feel? ‘At the end of the day, I think it's all karma. Life doled you out something a little shite and then in return, you were sent this Jack boy.'

‘Don't call him boy,' I tell her.

‘Hon, I've got bras older than him.'

I punch her in the arm, and she laughs, almost falling off her stool. Kate stayed last night as we all nestled into our sofa with spicy chicken and a rather violent vigilante thriller film that I think the kids needed to watch so they could work out some of their frustrations. Kate told me she wanted to stay for the moral support and needed to rest after driving, but I think she stayed for the gossip. As soon as Dylan took himself off to bed, she asked for every last detail. She lay next to me last night, still foraging for details, she woke up with me to keep digging. You slept with someone over ten years younger than you? How many times? He looks like that? At one time, she actually applauded.

And now we sit here, making our way through rounds of toast and tea as we wait for Brian to make an appearance, the autumn sunlight flooding the kitchen, the house silent. Such is the way when you have teenagers. I remember a time when I dreamt of this, when the kids were little and I'd be sitting in the front room watching Peppa Pig at six in the bloody morning. But now, they sleep. They don't emerge until lunch and the silence is an empty echo, almost preparing you for the moment when they will eventually fly from this nest.

‘You know this will be the absolute best thing to show Brian when he gets here, right? I might get this guy's image put on a mug that says THIS IS WHO MY EX-WIFE FUCKS NOW.'

‘Don't do that. That's not why I slept with him. You know that, right? It wasn't for revenge.'

‘Oh god, I know that. But don't you want to brag, just a little bit…?' she says cheekily. I reach over and rub at toast crumbs that seem to have accumulated on the corner of her lips.

‘No. And when he's here, don't say an absolute word. Don't pop up in a doorway like some strange puppet and announce it.'

She puts jazz hands to the sides of her face. ‘Guess who Zoe's shagging, Brian?'

I giggle a little, choking on my tea, a little worried, however. Please no. She looks at me completely bemused.

‘I am happy, though. If anyone needed this, it's you,' she says beaming, shaking her head and still slightly in disbelief. ‘When can I meet him?'

I grimace at her. ‘Never.'

‘Ouch, are you ashamed of me?'

‘No, I just have to work out what it all is. If it will happen again or if it's just…'

‘Fucking,' she says, gritting her teeth. I find an oven glove and throw it at her. ‘Oh my, you're, like, living everyone's middle-aged fantasy.'

‘And what would that be?'

‘Oh, I love Neil. I don't see myself with anyone else except that dopey bastard but sometimes I do think about having a lover. I'd live alone, have a bed to myself, not have to worry about sharing space and picking up someone's pants but at the end of a phone, I'd have a young, handsome lover to call upon who'd sort me out.'

I put a hand to my chest in shock. ‘You make Jack sound like a gigolo.'

Kate cackles in reply. ‘That's one word for it. But this boy isn't boyfriend material, is he?'

I can't answer. There is something there. A very potent spark that is hard to ignore. I like how his presence pushes me to let go, to be spontaneous and react. But in real life, outside our bubble, I guess if I wanted to consider something more with him, I'd have to put a lot more thought into what that would look like, how that would work.

‘Stop calling him a boy…'

‘Kid?'

I shake my head at her, just as we hear a light knocking on the front door. At least he's not just letting himself in anymore. There's a feeling in response to that sound. It used to be sadness, pain, but the feeling has transformed a little. I don't fear it as much.

Kate looks at me carefully as I get off my stool. ‘You OK?'

I nod and walk to the door. I see his figure hovering by the glass, opening it slowly. When I do open it, he stands there, his eyes bloodshot, pulling the collar of his coat up around his neck. ‘Zoe.'

‘Thank you for knocking, at least.'

He shrugs his shoulders and follows me into the kitchen. When we get there, Kate seems to have disappeared. Hopefully not waiting to jump out of a cupboard and tell Brian that I'm shagging someone new, though the thought makes me grin.

‘Is that Kate's car in the drive?' he asks me.

‘Yeah, she dropped the kids off yesterday and stayed.'

Brian's eyes search around the kitchen area and through to the living room to look for her.

‘There's coffee in the cafetiere if you want. Help yourself.'

It doesn't feel right to serve him anymore. He opens the cupboard, taking a mug and pouring himself a cup. Always black, no sugar. I can't read my feelings here. It almost feels like apathy, and to feel that towards someone I once was married to feels strange. Where the hell is Kate? I then hear the sound of the dryer whirring into action. Like aunty, like niece.

I take a seat at the counter and watch him take off his coat, putting a hand through his hair. It's the eyes that keep me quiet. I've not seen them like that before. Has he been crying? But there is a real melancholy there and I'm reminded of when his dad died five years ago and the raw grief he experienced. By that same measure, I remember how I propped him up at that time. I remember experiencing all those emotions with him, through him. How strange to suddenly feel so disconnected to him.

‘I'm so sorry, Zoe. I really fucked up.' It's such a complete sentence to describe the last six months that I let it sit there for a while so we can both absorb it. ‘Where are the kids?'

‘Have you not met our kids before?' I say, looking at the clock. It's nine-thirty. ‘You'll be lucky if you see them before midday.'

He pretends to laugh, both of his hands around his mug, his shoulders slumped over. ‘How are they?'

‘They're so bloody angry with you. I mean, they were pretty angry already so it's like you just added another layer of wrath there.'

‘I just thought…'

‘Or didn't. I can't see how that situation was well thought out at all.'

‘But it's Liz, they know Liz,' he says, trying to defend himself.

‘Brian, they knew Liz as a family friend. My friend. Someone who used to sit in our living room and drink wine. To them, she has a whole different persona now. It was far too soon to even attempt to do that, to present them with some different dynamic, one which basically replaced me.'

He looks down at his coffee to take that all in. I can't believe how coherent I am. ‘It's not like that. No one will replace you as their mother. They adore you.'

I won't argue that, but I adore them just as much, and I remember a time when Brian did, too. When he put their needs above his own. It was perhaps that shift in him that broke my heart the most.

‘I don't know how to repair any of this, Zoe. I really don't. Even before Liz arrived yesterday morning, everything's changed. The way they talk to me, Lottie's sarcasm, the way Dylan's body stiffens when I try to hug him,' he says, a lump in his throat.

‘You didn't just betray me, Brian. You betrayed them, too.' He can barely look at me. ‘I don't want them to hate you. I never want that, but it will take time for them to trust you again. You made a decision to break this, and I don't think it's a quick fix.'

He looks uncomfortable to have to be told that much but then his judgement can hardly be trusted these days.

‘Phase Liz in if you must but I think it will take even longer for them to accept her.'

‘Have you completely poisoned them against her?'

‘Fuck off, Brian.'

He flinches in shock to hear me swear because I rarely do. I take a sip at my tea to hide my shock that I've done that myself.

‘How is she?' I ask, almost too casually.

‘She's also having trouble with her kids. Eldest won't talk to her. Her youngest has started truanting from school.'

It's almost as if he's asking for sympathy. I hope he doesn't mind if I have none to share.

‘Well, I hope the sex is worth all of that,' I say, again shocked at my ability to be so acerbic about it all.

His back straightens for a moment. ‘It's not just sex, Zoe. I love her. I love Liz.'

And he comes right back at me with some very sharp barbs indeed. My face goes numb to hear it. And not because he stopped loving me or because that feeling of love moved to someone else but because I don't think I'll ever understand it. I don't know if that is love. To hurt all those people in the wake, to irrevocably ruin all those kids and their perceptions of family, their parents, to act so completely and utterly selfishly. That seems to me to be the very opposite of love.

Brian tries to reach over to hold my hand and I pull a face, retracting my hand as far from him as possible. ‘That was cruel. I'm sorry,' he says, appearing contrite at least.

I laugh under my breath. I've heard that word so many times that it's started to lose its impact. The utility room door suddenly opens, and Kate stands there holding a basket of folded towels. Brian does a double take to see her standing there, knowing she would have overheard most of our conversation.

‘Kate?'

‘Brian.'

The last time these two met, it was on our driveway. She had just keyed his delivery rental van and he'd come back to confront her and she said he was lucky that she didn't key his balls. My neighbours heard that and I think we all winced thinking about what that would entail. She now holds on to some very new, important information about my love life and she really, really needs to shut her face about it.

Kate gives Brian a look and then shifts her gaze on to me. ‘What fabric softener do you use? Your towels smell gorgeous.'

‘It's Lenor,' I tell her. ‘It's a limited-edition jasmine range.'

Brian sits there awkwardly, waiting for Kate to pounce.

‘I guess I should thank you for driving the kids back yesterday. I appreciate you were there to…'

‘…pick up the pieces of your piss-poor parenting?' she replies. I suppress a smile at the glorious alliteration in her reply.

‘Be there for them,' he mumbles in reply.

‘Well, I bloody love those kids like they're my own so, of course…' she tells him, plainly.

‘And the people who picked Dylan up from Manchester? Are they friends of yours? That bit confused me. Who's Jack?'

I glare at Kate who can't seem to hide her glee, clutching on to her basket of towels. Don't you dare. This is not a case of tit for tat. Though I did partake in his tat quite a fair bit last night. I pull a face, also trying to hold in my laughter. Brian yo-yos between the both of us, trying to figure out this shared joke.

‘I know Jack through work, he helped me co-ordinate it all,' I say, possibly a little too unconvincingly.

‘Well, I'm glad he was there to give you some help.'

‘That's not all he gave her,' Kate says out of the side of her mouth. I close my eyes. I don't think Brian heard that. She was far too slick, far too absorbed in her own sense of humour. I should glare but I grin, broadly. ‘I'm going to put these towels away,' she says, taking her leave.

Her back to Brian, she widens her eyes at me cheekily and I follow her gaze as she leaves. When I turn back, Brian is looking at me strangely. He heard that, didn't he? Bloody Kate.

‘You seem different. Have you changed your hair or something?'

‘I washed it?'

We both laugh, studying each other's faces. There is something about him that I miss, possibly. He was a huge part of my life. I will always hold on to that. We share children for a start. But I think the emotion might be moving on. I think I might have started to swim again – the water is warmer, I don't feel like I'm drowning anymore.

Jack

Hi

Hi

Thank you for the chicken.

I didn't send you any chicken. Is this your way of thanking me for the sex? I guess we can call it that.

You're funny.

I try. How are your kids? Home safe? You OK?

All good. They're home, they're safe. I'm sorry I didn't message you before this. It's been quite the weekend.

It has. I'm glad the kids are at home with you. I also feel the need to thank you too, you know? Thank you for taking a chance on me.

That's my favourite ABBA song.

Who's ABBA?

You are funny.

Will I see you tomorrow?

Yes. Meet you in the copy room?

I'll be there. Naked. Next to copier 1.

It's a date. Also, are you free in two weeks?

She's planning ahead.

It's just that I've got to go to Winchester with my STEM club. I need to take another member of staff.

I can be available.

It's paid.

You don't have to pay me for my company.

I wasn't planning to. But log the hours as overtime.

First we call the sex ‘chicken'. Now it's ‘overtime'.

I'll put your name down then.

Please do. I'd like that very much.

Thank you again, Jack. Can I say that I'm glad our paths have crossed?

You can say that. I like hearing it x

I put my phone down on my chest with a huge smile on my face, sipping at a cup of tea whilst I lounge in my front room. I'm glad Zoe messaged first. I'm glad that despite her family dramas, I still linger in her thoughts because she lingers in mine – and she wants to keep seeing me. In two weeks. I can wait two weeks and in between I'll get to see her at school, every day if I'm lucky. I don't think I'll mind that one bit.

I left Dom and the boys last night and crawled back here to pass out. Dom still thinks this place is some single man's twenty-four-hour party palace when, in reality, I came back to Frank playing Call of Duty with a set of online friends I don't think he's ever met in real life, and Ben in bed with a box set and cold meds. I can hear them both through the ceiling now. One sniffing for his life, the other yelling like he's in the middle of actual warfare, trying to get someone to cover his six. It's midday and strangely, I feel a little lost. I don't know if I'm tired or need to do some laundry. The answer is both but for now, I will continue to lounge, put on some mindless television, scroll through the corners of social media where I can keep updated on current affairs but also see what all my friends had for dinner last night. Such is my very single life. My phone ringing gets my attention.

‘Hello hello.'

‘Jack Attack,' Sarah replies, very calmly.

‘I owe you.'

‘You do.'

‘Sorry I didn't call yesterday. I should have checked in and done that properly. It's been a strange twelve hours.'

‘No harm. Can I say, though? What a nice young man. A sad young man but very polite.'

‘I wouldn't know. Did he say much to you?' I ask her.

‘Hakeem just distracted him with football talk. They created their dream team. Once I requested Jack Grealish so I could just stare at his calves, I was cut out of the conversation.'

I laugh. ‘What a way to cheapen and sexualise a very good footballer. I am disappointed, Sarah.'

Sarah is silent which makes me wonder if she's waiting for me to volunteer more information or whether she knows already. Perhaps the old university hotlines have been burning.

‘You've spoken to Ed, haven't you?' I ask.

‘We may have had a conversation. His new wife is fuming, by the way, that you haven't updated them on what's happened there.'

‘Really?' I say, defensively. ‘The Ed and Mia who quite brazenly set me up.'

‘You slept with her, didn't you?' she asks.

‘A gentleman never reveals…'

‘Gentleman? Who's that then?' she jokes. ‘Did the lad get home? Is he OK? I kept asking him that, but he didn't really reply, and I didn't want to dig.'

‘He's with his mum, he's home. It was a family matter and I've left them to it.'

I'm not sure how much more to tell her.

‘Then we did a good thing then, eh?'

‘You did. Thank you.' I knew I could call Sarah and she'd help. She was the reliable sort at university, the one who you'd call if you were stuck in the kebab shop and your payment method had been declined. Of course, this never happened to me. And despite a small feeling of judgement over my life choices, there is friendship there. Friendship without question.

‘Well,' she says, shifting tone. ‘Seeing as we're talking favours, I may have something I'd like to lay down at your door. If you're interested?'

I sit up on the sofa. ‘Is it Bowie? Did you need another dogsitter?'

‘I've been offered a job. It's quite a big conservation project out in Borneo, they want to me to lead it and project manage. It's the dream job, it really is…'

‘Amazing, mate. So how long would I have the pooch for then?' I ask. I'd have to lay down some proper ground rules to the mutt. Keep off my bed, stop humping my leg, but we could make it work. I'd have to work out if Frank is allergic. I'm sure the nephews would love him.

She stops and laughs. ‘You idiot. They want me to build a team to go out there with me. And strangely, your name was right at the top of my list.'

I stop for a moment and look blankly at some cooking show I've been gawping at mindlessly. Borneo. Conservation. The words make me sit up. I'd never really sought out work like that for myself since I left university – those jobs always felt like pipe dreams for further down the line. But there was a time when I planned to use my degree to do fieldwork somewhere. I just never got beyond that. The idea fills me with some prickles of curiosity, excitement.

‘The pity recruit,' I joke.

‘Hardly. I believe you graduated with a First. There was a Jack I once knew who was fascinated by this type of ecosystem. Orangutans, Jack. There would be orangutans.'

‘Are you trying to use monkeys to tempt me into a job?'

‘Yes.'

‘Sarah, I'm flattered but…'

‘It's a five-year project,' she interrupts me. ‘I'm going to send you an email with all the particulars and links to the village where we'd stay. It's right on the water. We'd have to sort visas and…'

‘Hold up there, sparky. Seriously. Is this your way of trying to sort my life out? I am very capable of finding a job for myself, you know?'

She laughs at the end of the phone. ‘Puurlease. I work at a university. I am surrounded by dozens of botanists who'd jump at the chance to come out and do this sort of work. It's once in a lifetime stuff. I asked you because you're my friend but also because you are who you are.'

‘A pain in the arse?'

She cackles in reply. ‘Well, there is that. But you adapt to your surroundings, you're not put off by challenges and you're a people person. The team would be better with you in it.'

I exhale gently to hear her compliment. Sometimes I can't think as far back as my degree – it feels like a lifetime ago. But I remember Sarah and I used to talk about the work we would do; a couple of young idealistic tree-huggers with aspirations to explore and save the world.

‘I really hate blowing smoke up your arse, by the way. It feels very unnatural,' she tells me.

I laugh. ‘Sarah, are you being serious? What about your newbuild? Hakeem?'

‘We'd rent it out. Hakeem will tag along. It's all very new but I can't let this go. It's a big deal.'

‘How long do I have to decide?' I ask tentatively.

‘So you're considering it?'

My phone pings and I hold it away from my ear to see a text from Zoe.

See you tomorrow x

I have to sit there and take a moment. This isn't normally what happens in my weekends. Normally, I lie here and realise I've spent a whole hour scrolling through TikTok and that Monday is around the corner. All that time has passed without anything happening until now. And now, life is offering up forks in the road. ‘I just need to think about a few things.'

‘Well, don't hurt yourself, hon.'

I laugh.