Frisky Business (8 page)

‘Oh, you know … whenever I get the opportunity.’

‘By the way, I have lots of new material for you to upload. I’ve written a new piece on Tantric sex, and I have some new photos for the section on bondage.’

Lesley gulped. ‘Photos?’

‘Oh, don’t worry, they’re not photos of me and Frank, and nothing too explicit either. I don’t want it to be pornographic. Not that there’s anything wrong with pornography per se, of course,’ she added hastily. ‘It serves a purpose. But I don’t like the idea of young fellows I don’t know from Adam jacking off to photos of me.’

Not much chance of that, Lesley thought, struggling to keep her eyebrows out of her hairline. ‘Great! Well, you can give it all to me tonight, if you like, and I’ll get working on it.’

‘Lovely. Oh, and I’m starting a new section too devoted to toys and props. Which reminds me, there’s something I want to ask Romy about. If you’ll excuse me.’

As May went off to talk to Romy, Lesley joined Stefan, who was standing by the buffet table, steadily demolishing the food.

‘Hi, Stefan. How are you?’

‘Ah, Lesley. I am tired.’ Stefan spoke like a Hammer Horror Dracula, lending everything he said a rather morose air. He still hadn’t adapted to Irish ways sufficiently to recognise ‘How are you?’ as a greeting like ‘hello’ rather than an actual enquiry after his wellbeing.

‘Yeah? Been working hard?’

‘Yes, but it’s not
that. It’s May and Frank – the noise they make!’

‘Right. That’ll be them exploring their sexuality, I suppose.’

‘I ask Romy to talk to them, but nothink change. Beng, beng, beng, all night!’

‘Ah sure, what harm are they doing?’

Stefan looked mournfully at her. ‘They are too old to be havink all this sex. I tell May she should do knittink like other old ladies.’

‘Wait until
you’re
a hundred. I bet you won’t want to pack it in yourself.’

‘Is May a hundred?’ Stefan asked seriously, looking across at the elderly lady. ‘She looks good,’ he admitted. He still couldn’t tell when people were joking either.

‘No, she’s not really a hundred,’ Lesley said, following his gaze. ‘Though, God, she could be. I don’t know what age she is.’

Lesley had been vaguely aware of the doorbell ringing and people streaming in while she chatted to Stefan, and she suddenly noticed that the room was filling up.

‘Well, can’t stand here chatting to you all night.’ She stuffed a couple of tortilla chips into her mouth and brushed the crumbs from her hands. ‘I’ve got some serious mingling to do,’ she said, pulling a notebook from her back pocket as she walked away.

Kit watched Romy’s house
from his vantage point in the tree opposite as darkness fell and the road became populated with bands of miniature witches, vampires, superheroes and assorted ghouls. He burrowed closer to the trunk, clinging to the shadows of the branches as a group of children pushed through the green gate and ran up to the door with an explosion of giggles and squeals. He didn’t want to be seen, but he was glad of the opportunity to see Romy again when she came to answer the door. He watched her bend down, smiling brightly at the children as she held out a tray of treats. Her face was as warm and lovely as ever, and he felt happy to see her. Nevertheless, he was relieved when the children thundered off again, clanging the gate behind them, and he felt safe once more.

‘There’s a man up
that tree!’ squealed a high-pitched childish voice below him, making him jump and almost lose his balance. He looked down to see a tiny witch with a pointy hat and an elaborate cobweb painted on her face standing at the bottom of the tree and pointing up at him. Luckily, her fellow munchkins weren’t paying any attention and had already beetled off to the next house, oblivious to her shrieking. She was looking right up at him now and he put a finger to his lips to shush her.

‘What are you doing up there?’ she called to him.

‘Sssh,’ he hissed, shaking his head at her.

‘Are you stuck?’

‘No, I’m not stuck,’ he whispered. ‘Go away!’ He waved a hand, shooing her.

‘Why are you up a tree?’

Bloody little busybody!
Why wouldn’t she just piss off? ‘I’m hiding,’ he told her. ‘I’m … playing hide and seek.’

She looked around the road and then back up at him. ‘Who are you playing with?’

‘Shut up and go away. They’ll find me.’

‘Are you playing with your children?’

‘I don’t – yes!’

‘Oh.’ She looked up and down the road again. ‘Where are they?’

‘What?’

‘Where are your children? I don’t see anyone.’

For fuck’s sake!
‘They’re looking for me. They’re … here they come now,’ he said, waving vaguely to the end of the road, where a gaggle of trick-or-treaters had just rounded the corner.

‘Them?’ she pointed, peering at them closely as they drew nearer.

‘Yes,’ he hissed urgently. ‘That’s them. Now go away or they’ll find me.’

‘That’s Josh and Alice
and Gordon and Pearse. They’re in my class. You’re not their dad. I’ve seen their dads at school.’

‘Look, will you just—’

‘Why did you say you’re their dad when you’re not?’

She was looking up at him expectantly and he had no idea what to say. Then she suddenly gasped and he heard her mutter something to herself. ‘Stranger danger!’ she yelped, before letting out a blood-curdling scream and taking off down the road as fast as her little legs would carry her.

Thank fuck for that, Kit thought, relaxing back against the tree to watch the comings and goings at Romy’s party, grateful to have the darkness to himself again. He didn’t know quite why he had decided to hide in a tree and spy on her from a distance, but he felt weird about just marching up to her door and ringing the bell after half a lifetime. Yeah, this was definitely the not-weird option, he thought wryly – stuck up a tree in the sodium haze of the streetlights with fireworks exploding around his head while he spied on his ex-girlfriend. There was nothing weird about that.

His mother had been surprised when he had appeared downstairs and announced that he’d decided to go out after all. But when he’d said he thought he might take her advice and look up Romy, she had looked so pleased that it made him feel guilty – guilty that he could make her happy so easily if he tried, guilty that he hadn’t tried harder since coming home, and most of all, guilty because he knew she would read something into him looking up Romy that wasn’t actually there.

He watched Romy move around the brightly lit room, pouring wine and passing around food, and felt a longing to be on the inside. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to move. It was getting cold in the tree, but it looked so cosy and inviting where Romy was that it warmed him up just looking at her. At one point, she stood in the window with a plate in her
hand, forking food into her mouth and gazing out at the night, and it was like she was looking right at him, as if somehow she knew he was there and they were sharing the moment.

Later, she got everyone playing old-fashioned Hallowe’en party games. Kit couldn’t see everything from his position, but he could see they were playing snap-apple at one stage. Snap-apple – without a hint of irony, and Romy was laughing her head off! She seemed to be having the time of her life with the old fogeys and deadbeats she had assembled in her house. She looked so happy, he thought wonderingly. Christ, if that was her idea of a good time, she’d probably be overjoyed to have him back in her life. Still he hung back, waiting to make his move …

He’s not here
, Romy thought as the party clattered and hummed around her.
He didn’t come.
It was completely irrational since she had no idea who he was and sometimes when she passed strangers in the street she thought ‘that could be him’ – so there was no reason why he couldn’t be standing in this room right now. But, somehow, she knew that he wasn’t. She was dismayed at how hollow that made her feel, and she turned to the window to give herself a moment of privacy, gazing out into the night as she forked cake into her mouth. He was still out there somewhere, and she would probably never see him again. She had thought she would feel relieved more than anything, but she realised now how excited she had been deep down at the thought that he might turn up.

She didn’t know why, but as soon as she opened the door to the first guest, she had experienced a sense of absolute certainty that he wasn’t going to come, and she had felt instantly deflated – and knocked off balance by the crushing disappointment she’d felt. After all, she had always known the chances
of him showing up were slim. But until that moment she hadn’t realised how much she had allowed the idea to take hold in her imagination. It was only when she was taking coats and exchanging small talk as she ushered in a group of her old school friends that the reality settled on her like the cold that still clung to them from outside, and she realised how fanciful she was being. Things like that didn’t happen in real life, to ordinary people like her.

‘Great party, Romy.’ She felt someone at her side and turned to find Derek Hanly standing beside her, a bottle of beer in his hand. Derek had been in her class at school. Tall and gangly, with an unkempt tangle of dark auburn hair and pale freckled skin, he still looked about twelve.

‘Hi, Derek,’ she smiled at him, shaking herself back to the present. ‘Glad you’re enjoying it.’ As she spoke, she saw Lesley in her peripheral vision, gesticulating at her wildly, alternating between pointing at Derek behind his back and waving her notebook.

Romy sighed. Even though she felt it was futile, she should probably go through the motions just to keep Lesley happy. ‘Were you at David’s party last year?’ she asked him.

‘Yeah, I was, but this one’s a lot more fun. All that crap with wearing masks.’

‘Hmm. What did you go as?’

Derek chuckled and took a sip of his beer before answering. ‘Darth Vader,’ he said, grinning at her. ‘Yeah, really shot myself in the foot with that one … bloody helmet …’

Romy was aware that he was still speaking, but she had no idea what he was saying. It was as if the room and everything in it had faded into the background and all she could hear was the beat of her heart and the rush of blood in her veins.

‘Romy?’ He was looking at her with concern now. ‘You okay?’

‘What? Oh yeah,’ she said faintly, ‘I’m fine.’ She looked closely
at him. He had a nice face, she thought – cute rather than handsome, but open and friendly. As far as she knew, he was a nice person. She hadn’t seen him properly in years, but she had always liked him at school. He had loaned her a tennis racket once when she’d broken hers. And he had bought her chips one lunch-time when she didn’t have any money. That was about the sum total of what she knew of him. Could he really be Luke’s father? It didn’t seem possible. And what was she supposed to do now that she’d found him? She couldn’t just say, ‘Oh, by the way, we have a child together.’

‘What are you up to these days?’ she asked, her voice sounding far away to her ears.

‘Nothing much. Still working for my dad.’

‘Computers, isn’t it?’

‘Yep. And I’m engaged! Orla and I are tying the knot next year,’ he said, nodding across the room at a girl who was chatting to a group of their old school friends.

‘Oh, that’s exciting! Congratulations!’

‘Thanks,’ he said, grinning.

God, this was going to be even more complicated than she’d thought. She glanced back at Orla. She looked so happy – they both did – and they were about to get married. How could she barge into their happy uncomplicated lives with a baby? She wasn’t sure she even wanted to. How good would it be for Luke having a father who was married to someone else, who would probably have children with someone else – a father who wouldn’t have much time for him and might not even want to know him?

‘Do you ever hear from David now? Or Katie?’ she asked mechanically.

‘No, not a sausage. But I was never really friends with David anyway. He only asked us lot to his parties to show off. And I didn’t know Katie at all.’

‘You
didn’t?’ She watched him carefully, but there was nothing in his expression to suggest he was lying.

‘No. Anyway, it’s really nice to see you again, Romy. Thanks for inviting me. It’s nice to catch up with the old crowd. We never see each other anymore. We should do it more often.’