All That Mullarkey by Sue Moorcroft Page B

they talked, she emotionally repositioned herself, consigning him to the past as a lover. They compared films, countries they’d visited, favourite music, like two civilised people. He made her laugh.
    When her mobile bleated to signal an incoming text message, she was amazed to realise it was almost ten thirty. She read the screen. R u ok? Gav. She hesitated, locked eyes with Justin, and rang home. She imagined Gav stretched on the sofa as she heard his habitual, ‘Hello?’
    She cleared her throat. ‘Hi, I’m fine. Just having an after-work drink. I’ll be home soon.’
    And she was fine. They were talking. That was all.
    Justin walked her back to her car. ‘’Bye, then,’ he called, moving on as she slid into the driver’s seat. The door was still half open when he swung back.
    ‘Oh yeah.’ He crouched beside the car and laid one hand on her knee, a knee that jumped as if someone had done a reflex test on her. He lowered his voice. ‘I suppose by now you know that you’re not pregnant?’
    The heat from his hand beat through the fabric of her trousers. She succeeded, second go, in starting the car. His eyes were on her face in the evening shadows and she willed her features into nonchalance. ‘You’re not still panicking about that, are you?’ She smiled her most brilliant smile, then ended, teasingly, ‘Clear off. Time I was going.’
    When Cleo got home, Gav was lying full length on the sofa just as she’d imagined. He folded the paper onto the floor. ‘OK?’
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    ‘What happened?’ Hands linked behind his head, he watched her.
    ‘What?’ She shrugged out of her jacket, smothering a yawn. Suddenly she was shattered.
    ‘The football. I thought you were coming to watch?’
    Oops.
    ‘Rhianne and Dora were there.’
    Her life had been happening, she hadn’t had time to think about his. ‘Had I promised to be there? Somebody suggested a drink, so I went.’ She hung her jacket up, kicked off her shoes and dropped into an armchair.
    ‘I just thought you’d be there.’
    ‘You could have asked me. Instead of just thinking.’ She hadn’t meant to be confrontational but he made her feel so defensive. So she added, lightly, ‘Sorry if you were disappointed.’ Slowly, still yawning, she walked upstairs.
    The package was still hidden in her knickers drawer under tossed cotton, lace and satin; white mainly, some black. Three pairs of French she didn’t like much, but Gav did, sundry sexy wisps, two pairs of iron knickers for tight dresses. And for trousers that showed visible pantie line, thongs. Gav liked those, too. But Gav would never look in her knickers drawer; only knickers there, not very neat, and her mobile phone charger.
    And this, her secret. She slipped the package out. Reread the instructions, tapping her thumbnail against her teeth, her stomach see-sawing.
    Then, suddenly, Gav was in the doorway. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’
    Shoving the package away, she pounced on the tangled charger flex and began to wind the wire neatly. ‘You made me jump!’
    ‘So who was it tonight, did you go somewhere nice?’
    She pushed aside the fact that she knew he’d object if he knew that her companion had been a man, and focused instead on her growing irritation. ‘Why are my movements an issue now? Why are you keeping an eye on me? This never used to happen.’
    Gav began to tug off his clothes, movements sharp. ‘Maybe you were less secretive then.’
    ‘Maybe I felt less patrolled!’
    His eyes narrowed and he sat on the end of the bed. ‘It shouldn’t matter.’
    ‘You should trust me.’
    Into bed, in silence. Cleo switched out the light. They lay, side by side but not touching. Eventually Gav said, ‘O-kay. It’s the semi-finals tomorrow night. If you’d like to come?’
    Her voice was tired in the darkness. ‘Thanks. I’d like that.’ No she wouldn’t, not particularly. But she ought to go.

Chapter Thirteen
    At the edge of the spectators’ balcony above