Best Supporting Role (23 page)

“We have.”

“Brilliant. So come on, dish. How was it?”

I told her how Hugh had lit candles, how gentle and tender he’d been, how right the whole thing felt, that I hadn’t felt this way since Mike. “Worries about the business aside, I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.”

“So you think you could be falling for him?”

I said that I thought I might.

“OK, can we change the subject now? I don’t do well with jealousy. I might have to kill you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, if it’s all the same to you.”

“I’ll do my best. Oh, before I go—I have news. Simon called. Seems he left the Antibes tart and he’s back in London. He wants to see me tonight and God knows why, but I’ve said yes. He says he’s got
something important to discuss. I might be wrong, but I think he wants us to give it another go.”

“Bloody hell. What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know. To be honest, I’m all over the place. He’s the father of my child and—bottom line—I’ve never really stopped loving him. A bit of me has always hoped that one day he might change.”

“Maybe he has.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not holding my breath.”

“Listen—I could babysit Will if you like.”

“Really? That would be amazing, but you’ve been at work all day. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

I said it wasn’t a problem as Hugh was coming over tonight and bringing Chinese, so I wouldn’t be busy cooking.

“You absolutely sure?”

“Positive. I’d love to have him.”

She said she’d be there around seven. I pressed “end” and looked up. Standing in front of the counter was a woman in her seventies with a Jackie Stallone face-lift and underarm poodle.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, “I didn’t see you come in.”

She dismissed my apology with a haughty wave. “I need to be fitted for new bras.” No greeting. No “I wonder if you could help me.” Just the announcement.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place. I should tell you, though, that we don’t allow dogs in the shop.”

“This isn’t a
dog
. This is Jeremy.”

“And what a beautiful color he is, too. The lavender really shows off his brown eyes.”

“Thank you. I had him dyed to match my bedroom curtains.”

“Tell you what, why don’t I take Jeremy into the basement and one of my seamstresses could give him a drink.”

“All right, but he only has Evian.”

“Of course.”

She passed the dog to me. I took him downstairs. He was a docile chap. Smelled of Coco Mademoiselle.

“Sorry to be a pain,” I said to the aunties, “but would you mind guarding the mutt for a few minutes?”

“Poodle duty again,” Aunty Bimla said, laughing. “Forty years and nothing changes. Oh, this one’s purple. Very nice.”

“And maybe you could give him a drink. Apparently he only has Evian.”

“Of course he does.” With that, Aunty Sylvia poured some cold tea out of her cup and into a saucer. She lowered the saucer onto the floor. The poodle lapped it up in seconds and then made big “more, please” eyes at Aunty Sylvia.

“Evian, my tuchas,” she said, reaching down to refill the saucer.

Jackie Stallone woman insisted that there was no need to measure her. “I’m a perfect 34B. Have been all my life.”

“Excellent. Makes my job all the easier.”

Even with her jacket on, I could see that the woman was huge. Instead of two breasts, she had a single, enormous ledge. I’d have put money on her being at least a 34F.

Once we were in the fitting room, she took off her top. Her bra was several sizes too small. It was riding up at the back and she had the usual quadraboobs going on: two extra at the top, two at the sides.

“You know what,” I said. “I suspect that the bra you have on has shrunk in the wash. It really isn’t a great fit.”

She stared into the fitting room mirror. “Hmm . . . you could be right. It’s my housekeeper’s fault. She washes everything at sixty degrees. Ruins everything—silk, cashmere, you name it.”

I brought her three bras in a 34G, but didn’t mention the size. She tried them on. Her crepey quadraboobs were no more.

“Oh, these are perfect. I’ll take two of each.”

“Excellent. Tell you what—I can see that the labels are rubbing you. Why don’t I cut them out?”

“Good idea. I have very sensitive skin and they do tend to irritate.”

A few moments later, she left the shop, Jeremy under one arm, her Sarah Green Lingerie bag over the other, a contented smile on her face.

•   •   •

“S
o, how did it go?” I said to Hugh as I let him in.

He shook his head. “I didn’t even get to audition. By the time I got there, they’d already chosen somebody.” He handed me the bag of Chinese food and we headed into the kitchen.

“That’s a bit bloody mean. Not even giving you the chance.”

“Way it goes,” he said.

“Oh, hon,” I said, putting my arm around him. “I’m really sorry. I was sure you were going to get it.”

“Actually, I’m OK about it. I’ve got plenty of building work lined up. It pays far better than the theater.”

“I know, but that’s hardly the point.” I put the bag of food down on the kitchen table.

“Maybe not, but what can I do? I’ll get over it. . . . Now come on . . . tell me about your day.”

“Not a lot of customers,” I said, “but I made a couple of decent sales. I guess it’s going to be slow until the word gets around.”

“And it will get around. You just need to be patient.”

I’d just cracked open a couple of bottles of Chinese beer when Rosie and Will arrived. For once Will wasn’t asleep. He was wide-awake and kicking in his little bouncy chair.

“Hey, you guys,” Rosie said. “Thank you so much for agreeing to look after Will.”

I hadn’t actually mentioned to Hugh that we were watching Will, but he didn’t seem remotely perturbed.

Rosie put Will’s chair down on the kitchen floor and handed me a plastic carrier bag. I glanced inside: nappies, wipes and a bottle of formula. “Sorry, I have to get going. I’m running late. I shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.”

“No rush,” I said as she gave Will a good-bye kiss.

After Rosie had gone, Hugh and the kids laid the table and opened the cartons of food while I played with Will.

“Look at you,” I cooed as I watched his chubby hand make a grab for one of the plastic animals strung across his chair. “You are such a clever boy. Yes you are.” Will beamed back at me. “Look, he’s smiling. He’s smiling. I need to take a picture for Rosie. Quick, where’s my phone?”

It was on the table. Hugh handed it to me and I started snapping. “There’s a lovely smile! There’s a lovely smile.”

By now Ella was playing peekaboo with him. “Look, Mum . . . look. He’s actually laughing. Get another picture.”

Dan groaned. “Why do girls get so goofy around babies?”

“It’s called hormones,” I heard Hugh say. I was pleased that he was bonding with Dan.

“What are they?” Dan said.

“Chemicals. They’re what make girls girls.”

“Well, I’m glad I haven’t got them.”

“Actually, you do.”

“What?”

“Don’t panic,” Hugh said, laughing. “They’re special man hormones. Speaking of which, how do you fancy coming with me to see Chelsea next week?”

“Yeah! You bet!”

“Right,” I said. “Since Will’s happy playing, why don’t we all sit down and eat?”

I watched Dan and Ella pile food onto their plates.

“You two still hungry?” I said.

“God, yeah,” Dan said. “Fiona gave us this stuff that tasted like poo.”

“Yeah. And these disgusting fries.”

“Well, she told me you loved it and that you both ate loads. So thank you for being polite. I really appreciate it.” I paused. “Listen, something’s worrying me. . . . Are you guys OK with me farming you out to Fiona? I feel really guilty about not being there to pick you up from school. But I’m not sure what else . . .”

“Don’t worry,” Ella said. “Fiona’s is great. Grace and I practiced our songs for the old people. We did ‘Edelweiss’ and Fiona joined in. She’s good fun.”

“Yeah and Tom’s got Gross Science.”

“What on earth is Gross Science?”

“It’s brilliant. You can make this life-size wobbly brain, and
stomach vomit and wounds with maggots and zits that you can actually squeeze . . . with real pus.”

“Stoppit,” Ella yelled. “I’m eating.” She turned to me. “Him and Tom chased Grace and me with the vomit and we told Fiona and she yelled at them.”

“Good for her. The whole thing sounds disgusting.”

“I disagree,” Hugh said. “I think it sounds great. Why didn’t we have toys like that when we were kids? So, Dan, how do you actually make the pus?”

Dan was about to explain, but Ella punched him on the arm.

At this point I decided that a change of subject might be in order. “Oh, by the way, a woman came into the shop today with a purple poodle.”

“Our maggots were purple.”

Great. So much for changing the subject.

“Kids, tell you what, why don’t you take your plates into the living room and watch a DVD?”

They didn’t need telling twice.

Hugh poured me another Chinese beer.

“By the way,” I said. “Thank you for inviting Dan to football. I really appreciate it. It’s the kind of thing boys miss out on when they don’t have a dad around.”

“My pleasure,” he said. “He’s a great kid. We’ll have fun. In fact, they’re both great kids.”

“They are, but then I am biased.” I drank some beer. “Oh, FYI, I’ve decided what to do about the school fair.” The idea had come to me last night as I was dropping off to sleep.

“Go on.”

I got up and closed the door so that the kids wouldn’t hear.

“To compensate for the lack of Greg Myers I’m going to hire a rockabilly band.”

“That’s a great idea. Everybody loves rockabilly.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“OK, so how are you going to explain the lack of Greg Myers?”

I’d worked that out last night, too.

“I’ve decided to come clean. I’m fed up with lying. It’s too stressful. I loathe Tara and Charlotte and they’re going to be crowing for years, but I got myself into this mess.”

“So when will you tell them?”

“As soon as I’ve got the band sorted. I’ll send a group e-mail and then wait for the brickbats to come flying.”

“Don’t do that. Wait until the actual day of the fair.”

“Why? What would that achieve?”

“Once they see what a great band you’ve got and everybody’s bopping and having a great time, they won’t be so angry. The flak might not be so bad.”

“But I did a bad thing. I deserve the flak.”

“Yes, but you don’t deserve the vitriol you’ll get from the likes of Tara and Charlotte. Damage limitation is what you should be aiming for. Take my advice and hold off saying anything until the actual day. Do it for me.”

“For you? Hugh, why are you so worked up about all this? It’s kind of you, but I can take care of myself.”

“I know, but I hate the idea of you being bullied by these bitches.”

I reached out and took his hand. “Thank you for worrying, but if
I know Tara and Charlotte, it won’t last long. They’ll soon get bored and go in search of somebody else to pick on.”

“Maybe, but I’d still rather you didn’t own up right now.”

“I need to. I can’t go on being dishonest.” I stabbed a kung pao prawn. “Unless of course I made a public statement on the day. Then I’d really be falling on my sword. I suppose an e-mail is a bit cowardly.”

“Exactly. Getting up in public is going to take a hell of a lot of guts. But in the end it could work out for the best.”

I wasn’t entirely convinced, but I decided to take Hugh’s advice on the grounds that it was probably the lesser of two evils. “OK, I’ll hold off making the announcement.”

“Excellent. And let me lend you the money to pay for the band. Anybody decent is going to cost the best part of a grand.”

I leaned across and kissed him on the forehead. “That’s a lovely gesture and thank you, but I’d rather stick it on my credit card. I got myself into this mess. It feels better if I take responsibility.”

“And how will you pay it back?”

“I dunno. Work hard, I guess.”

Since Will had nodded off and the kids were in the living room glued to
Back to the Future III
—which was going on way past their school night bedtime—I got out my laptop and Googled “rockabilly bands.” There were loads, all with names like the Hound Dogs and the Alley Cats
.
We listened to half a dozen or so playing “Tutti Frutti,” “Blue Suede Shoes, “Great Balls of Fire.” They were all pretty good. In the middle of the Milkshakers’ “Be-Bop-a-Lula,” Hugh grabbed my hand and we went jiving around the kitchen. He was terrific. I was terrible. I had almost no idea what I was doing, but
pretty soon we were turning and spinning—me yelling at him to be careful of Will—who somehow remained fast asleep in his bouncy chair. When the music finished, we stood in front of each other laughing and breathless, me complimenting him on his great moves.

“I have others,” he said, drawing me towards him.

“Really? Why don’t you show me?”

“Well . . . I have this,” he said, slipping my dress strap off my shoulder and kissing my neck. “And I have this.” His hand was under my skirt, stroking the inside of my thigh. “Oh, and this . . .” He pulled away the crotch of my panties and pushed two fingers hard inside me.

“Hugh! Stop! The kids. They’re next door.”

“Sorry. I totally forgot. But I can’t keep my hands off you. I suppose it’s too early for me to start sleeping over?”

“I think so. The kids aren’t ready. I’d need to sit down and explain about us. And I don’t know what I’d say. It’s not like we’re planning to get married or live together. We’ve only just started dating. We need to give it time.”

“Fine, but can you enlist Betty’s services a bit more?”

I promised that I would. The kids seemed to really like her. The night she’d come to babysit, she’d brought a pack of cards and taught them gin rummy and pontoon. Dan loved it. Ella insisted that she did, too, but I knew she was still far too young for games like rummy and pontoon. Further investigation revealed that what she’d really enjoyed was playing with Betty and beating Dan.