Someone Like You (64 page)

‘Silly,’ said Hugh sweetly. ‘She’ll love you when she gets to know you. It just takes time.’

Now where had she heard that before?

‘How did it go?’ asked Hannah when she rang the next day.

‘I am compiling research for a book called Dating Divorces,’

announced Leonie, ‘and the longest chapter is going to be about meeting horrible, self-obsessed children who think you’re after their father for his money and who make it perfectly obvious that they hate you.’

‘You mean you’re not after him for his money?’ joked Hannah, trying to inject a note of humour into things.

‘Hugh has less money than I do,’ said Leonie hotly, not seeing the funny side of it. ‘And now I know why. He gives it all to Jane, although I can’t think why, because she has a perfectly good job. She had the nerve to ask him if she could book her holiday using his credit card. I ask you a twenty-something with a good job! It’s ludicrous.’

‘It didn’t go well, then?’ Hannah said tentatively.

‘His son is a darling and was very sweet to me, but the daughter, Jane,’ Leonie paused, ‘is hideously jealous. As if he can’t love her and me.’

‘Maybe she’s afraid that if you’re there the cheques will dry up,’ said Hannah pragmatically.

‘It’s more than that. It’s weird. She’s nuts about him, like a small child.’

‘Girls and their fathers,’ Hannah pointed out. ‘Somebody wrote a song about their heart belonging to Daddy.’

‘I don’t know any grown woman whose heart belongs to Daddy,’ said Leonie crossly. ‘Yours doesn’t and neither does Emma’s. Mel and Abby love Ray but they didn’t go into a flat spin when he married Fliss.’

‘That’s because they’re well-adjusted kids.’

‘Hugh’s well adjusted,’ Leonie argued. ‘How could he have a daughter like this?’

‘What’s his ex-wife like?’

‘Sounds perfectly normal. They get on well and the split was as amicable as any I’ve ever heard of.’

‘Ah well, that’s it,’ Hannah said sagely. ‘No split is ever amicable. It’s an oxymoron: the words “split” and “amicable” just don’t go together. Do you think Mummy is poisoning little Jane to loathe every woman who ever tries to replace her?’

Leonie gave a mirthless laugh. ‘I don’t think Jane needs anyone to poison her. She’s poisonous enough on her own.

Hugh is so wonderful, but I can’t bear the thought of having to put up with Jane’s bitchiness for the rest of my life.’

‘Hugh thinks you’re wonderful,’ Hannah comforted.

‘That’s all that matters. Jane will come round, you’ll see.’

Leonie liked Hugh’s home. A three-year-old townhouse on the edges of Templeogue, it was pristine, still new looking and without any peeling paintwork or teenage detritus.

Inside, it was wall-to-wall magnolia, enlivened by Hugh’s collection of old film posters, the bookcases that lined the walls and lots of curious collectibles like a wind-up gramophone and a huge marble chessboard with marble pieces fashioned into jungle animals. It was all very quirky and Leonie liked it. In fact, there was only one thing Leonie didn’t like in the house and that was the plethora of pictures of Jane all over the place. The mantelpiece was a veritable shrine to her, with seven separate photos of Jane looking winsome as a First Communicant, sulky as a teenager, and even sulkier on a variety of other occasions.

There were only two of Stephen. Leonie hoped he didn’t mind, although he probably did secretly. Nobody could remain untouched by the fact that their parent preferred their sibling. Leonie hoped she’d never made one of her children feel they were less loved than the other two.

The small back garden was like a rugby pitch, thanks to the antics of Wilbur, Harris and Ludlum, Hugh’s dogs.

Leonie kept meaning to bring Penny on a visit to Hugh’s house but hadn’t got round to it yet. It seemed forward to bring her dog there, because investigating whether their animals got on was tantamount to discussing whether they should live together or not. Leonie was crazy about Hugh, but she didn’t think they were anywhere near that stage yet.

Tonight, they were reaching an important point in their relationship, however. Going To Bed Together. In Leonie’s mind, this event was in capital letters. It was immense, huge, a giant hurdle to be crossed.

They had been going out for four months and, although there had been some erotic moments, like that time in the Savoy Cinema watching a modern film noir, or the evening at Leonie’s when Danny and the girls had been out and they’d ended up getting very hot and bothered on the couch, they’d never been that intimate with each other.

It wasn’t that Leonie didn’t fancy Hugh. Far from it.

She found him very sexy. He was actually slightly shorter than her, but she didn’t mind that. There was something virile about him. How virile, she planned on finding out tonight. That tonight was the night was an unspoken arrangement between them. Leonie had asked her mother to stay at the cottage with the girls, ostensibly because she was going away for the night with Emma and Hannah.

Claire - whom Leonie suspected knew exactly what was really going on but was too discreet to say ‘about bloody time!’ - had said she’d be delighted.

The girls taken care of, Leonie had splurged money she didn’t have on matching knickers and bra in silky coffee coloured lace. She’d spent so long scrubbing herself in the bath that she reckoned she’d probably lost a pound in skin alone, and she’d massaged scented body lotion into every centimetre of her body.

Determined not to reproach herself for forgetting to rub the anti-cellulite cream into her bum and thighs, Leonie didn’t look at herself too long in the mirror. She was a forty-three-year-old woman, not a supermodel. Hugh liked her for what she was. She couldn’t change what she was, no matter how much she’d secretly like to.

Hugh had obviously made a similar effort in the cooking department. When she arrived, the three dogs chorused a delighted greeting and then raced back into the kitchen to stand guard over whatever delicious-smelling thing Hugh was cooking.

‘Beef?’ said Leonie, sniffing the air in the hallway and getting an enticing mix of garlic and onions with some subtle herbs.

Hugh, looking good in a cream cotton sweater over chinos, shook his head before kissing her hello.

‘It’s a surprise,’ he said.

‘I love surprises,’ she replied archly.

He kissed her neck too. ‘I’ve got another surprise for you later,’ he purred, making her giggle.

Dinner was wonderful, but Leonie found it hard to eat too much. She didn’t want her belly to be hanging out over her sexy new knickers purely because she’d stuffed her face with boeuf bourguignon and summer pudding with cream.

‘You don’t like it?’ Hugh asked anxiously when she insisted on only having a small portion of dessert.

‘I love it,’ she said. ‘You’re so good to cook for me, darling. I’m just er … not that hungry after the lovely beef.’

They shared a lingering kiss over the coffee and danced in the kitchen to the mellow sounds of Frank Sinatra. With her arms wrapped round Hugh’s neck, her body meltingly close to his, Leonie closed her eyes and thought how perfect it all was.

‘Shall we go upstairs?’ Hugh said thickly.

She murmured assent and, holding hands, they climbed the stairs. Leonie had only been in Hugh’s bedroom once when he’d shown her around the house. It wasn’t as tidy as it had been that day: obviously the strain of cooking up a cordon bleu feast meant he hadn’t had time for too much housekeeping. Clothes hung carelessly on the back of a chair by the dressing table, a towel graced the back of the door and a single sock peeped out from the half-open wardrobe. But the double bed was perfectly made up, with fresh smelling navy striped sheets reeking of flowery fabric softener. Leonie grinned until she saw the small table beside the bed.

A blue painted picture frame with a carved teddy anchored on one side sat beside a high-tech clock radio and inside the frame was a picture of Jane. The frame was more suited to a nursery than an adult’s bedroom.

‘Isn’t it lovely?’ Hugh said fondly, noticing the direction of her gaze as he hastily tidied up. ‘Jane gave it to me last week. She’s such a pet, always giving me gifts.’

Leonie gritted her teeth and vowed to dispose of some item of clothing so that it covered up Jane’s picture. There was no way she could make mad, passionate love with Hugh and have Jane’s smirking face watching every move.

Having Jane in the room with them was good in one way. It meant that Leonie didn’t have a moment to feel nervous about Hugh lovingly peeling off her blouse or helping her out of her skirt. She couldn’t concentrate on the awfulness of her thighs because she was thinking that it was as if Jane was in the room with them, watching, looking, sneering.

It was only when Hugh was down to his boxer shorts and led her over to the bed that Leonie decided she had to do something. While Hugh pulled the duvet back, she carefully moved the picture till it was facing the other way.

When she turned back to Hugh, he was watching her.

‘Sorry, I feel uncomfortable being watched,’ she said nervously. ‘Having one’s children watching doesn’t feel right.’

‘Is that all?’ he smiled.

‘Mothers can be very prudish about things like that,’

Leonie said.

What they did next wasn’t prudish at all. Hugh buried his head in her cleavage and moaned happily as he nuzzled her breasts. Leonie stopped feeling upset and began to enjoy herself again. She enjoyed it when Hugh stroked her all over, telling her she was gorgeous and that he adored her beautiful, sexy underwear. She enjoyed touching a man erotically again, feeling him grow aroused because of her.

And she adored it when she finally guided Hugh inside her, remembering how wonderful lovemaking felt and asking herself why it had been so long since she’d experienced it.

‘Oh, Hugh,’ she moaned as the tempo of their lovemaking increased.

‘Leonie,’ he murmured hoarsely, his naked body hard against hers.

Suddenly, Hugh’s body spasmed and he came, shuddering and calling, ‘Oh God, oh God,’ before slumping motionless on top of her.

A religious orgasm, Leonie thought unexpectedly, her own excitement quenched with his lack of activity. There were four types of orgasms, Hannah had gigglingly told them in Egypt: Religious, Positive, Negative and Fake.

Religious was ‘Oh God,’ at the moment of orgasm. Positive was ‘Yes!’ Negative was ‘No!’ And fake was the name of whoever you were with. ‘Oh, Hugh!’ in this case.

Leonie waited a moment, feeling Hugh heavy on top of her. She waited for him to murmur something about being sorry for coming too soon, she waited for him to insist on pleasing her. She’d read all the articles in magazines and newspapers: modern men knew what was expected of them in bed. The days of wham, bam, thank you, Ma’am were over. Men were sensitive creatures with instincts finely tuned to the needs of their women. Leonie had expected multiple orgasms, she’d read all about them in women’s magazines. Moments of such exquisite pleasure that she’d squeal like a turkey at Christmas and possibly wet the bed into the bargain. Men knew how to do that type of thing nowadays. The G-spot was as well known now as the offside rule in football.

Hugh moved. Leonie smiled with expectant pleasure.

Now it was her turn. Hugh planted one sloppy, sleepy kiss on her shoulder and slid off her to lie on the other side of the bed. One leg was still resting heavily across hers. He moaned and began to snore gently. In the darkness, Leonie blinked fiercely with rage. He was asleep. Hannah would murder her if she knew Hugh had dropped into the Land of Nod without making even an attempt to satisfy her.

Hannah only went out with New Men. Leonie got Neolithic Men.

Boiling with a combination of rage and unfulfilled desire, she lay beside the sleeping Hugh.

‘It’s all right, Jane, sweetie,’ she muttered, glaring at the turned-away photo. ‘You’d have been proud of your old dad tonight. There wasn’t anything for you to be jealous of.’

It was better in the morning. Leonie woke to find Hugh gently stroking her naked back. She stretched languorously but didn’t turn to face him. Let him turn her on this time.

She didn’t want a repeat performance.

This time, when their naked bodies fused, Leonie was ahead of Hugh. With enough stored-up sexual energy to power the national grid, Leonie focused on making herself orgasm. When she screamed with pleasure, thrashing around in ecstasy, Hugh was the one who had to do the catching up.

‘That was amazing,’ he said afterwards.

Leonie just grinned.

‘It was better than last night.’

She couldn’t help herself. If they were to have a proper relationship, he had to know: ‘Last night, Hugh, you fell asleep as soon as you’d come and I didn’t come,’ she said.

He was contrite. ‘I didn’t know you hadn’t,’ he protested.

How

could he not know? Still, she could teach him.

Leonie snuggled up to him. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said.

‘We’ve got lots of time to get to know each other in every way.’

Leonie was tidying when she found them. It was Friday morning and she was having a much-needed day off. The house was like a tip and she’d promised herself that if she could spend two hours on housework, she’d have lunch out as a treat. Danny’s room was a complete nightmare and there wasn’t much she could do there except pick up all the dirty clothes from the floor and hoover the bits of carpet uncovered by college books, sports gear and stacks of CDs. The bed looked as if Penny had been rolling in it after a particularly dirty walk.

‘How did I rear such a piglet?’ Leonie wondered out loud as she stripped the sheets and duvet.

Herman the hamster, who somehow managed to survive in the murky ecosystem that was Danny’s bedroom, climbed into his hamster wheel in shock at all the domestic activity and started running furiously. ‘You’re next, Herman,’ warned Leonie. ‘Your house smells. It’s clean-out time.’ Herman ran faster.

When Danny’s room was done and the bathroom was gleaming, it was half eleven and Leonie was beginning to wane. The thought of a leisurely lunch in the Delgany Inn with a glass of wine and a magazine made her feel wearier than ever. But the girls’ room needed a quick whizz with the Hoover and, as she’d ironed duvet covers the night before, she decided to change their bedclothes too. Normally, the girls changed their own sheets but she might as well do it while she was cleaning. Mel still hadn’t unpacked after the weekend in Cannes and her suitcase lay on the floor, clothes spilling out of it. Mel’s method of unpacking was to slowly remove things from the case as she needed them. Eventually, it would be emptied out.