less moaning, less ‘I’m too tired’ – anything. Anything. Just send Sabine packing – and stay. Please.
Yet it was as if she couldn’t move. While she knew that she should be up there with him, pointing out all the great things about their marriage, all the reasons why he should stay rather than slink off to foxy Sabine, she just couldn’t do it, didn’t have the energy. Not when she knew she’d just be humiliated all over again with his rejection.
Minutes later, Josie heard his Audi rumble to a start, saw his headlights beam through the curtains at her, watched them swing away across the wall and then disappear. She shook uncontrollably. This is not happening, she told herself. This is not my life. My life is safe and certain. I’m the smug cow, the happily married one, remember? Bad things like this don’t happen to me. They don’t. They just can’t !
Her heart was thudding painfully. Her throat was dry. It was all a mistake. He’d made a mistake. She forced herself to stop crying, then picked up the phone and, calm as you like, ordered Thai for two. Yellow chicken curry for Pete, his favourite. Pad thai for herself. A couple of crab cakes with chilli dipping sauce too, please. Oh yes, and don’t forget the prawn crackers. How long would that be? Forty minutes? Lovely. Thank you!
She opened a bottle of wine and poured a large glass. The wine was greenish-yellow, expensive. No doubt from one of Pete’s internet wine clubs. The wine glass had been a wedding present from – who was it again? Her Auntie Jackie?
She drained it in one go. Who cared? What did it matter now?
She poured herself another, quickly. He’d be back soon, she told herself. He’d come back and take her in his arms and say . . .
What would he say?
I can’t believe I nearly walked out and lost you, Josie Bell, the best thing that ever happened to me.
It was madness to think I could leave you. Sheer madness!
Sabine means nothing to me. You are my life, Josie. You and the kids.
I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?
And Josie? She would cry with happiness. She would sob through that blue T-shirt of his, and say, It’s OK, baby. You’re back now. Curry’s on the way. Would you like a glass of wine?
And they would sit down and watch telly and he would check the sports news on Teletext every time there was an ad break, and she would start on the ironing pile. And they would go to bed, their king-size sleigh bed, which had been a joint wedding present from about fifteen of their friends, and they would hold each other all night, and he would say, I’m so sorry, Josie. Do you think we can forget this ever happened?
And she would close her eyes and breathe in his scent and say, Yes, my love. As long as you promise never, ever to do that again.
And he would say . . .
Josie jumped out of her reverie at the gentle knocking at the door. She knew it! He’d come back!
‘That’s fifteen-fifty, please. Enjoy your meal.’
It only ever took Josie a couple of glasses of wine to get giggly. Pete used to find that endearing, she knew. Sweet little wifey has such a low tolerance, bless her, aren’t women amusing?
She’d already downed two large glasses by the time the Thai delivery boy dropped off her fragrant, steaming food. ‘Keep the change,’ she told him earnestly, pressing a twenty into his hand. ‘Treat yourself. Do something nice. Seize the day.’
He was backing away with the money, not interested, not making eye contact, despite Josie’s best efforts. ‘Thank you. Enjoy your meal,’ he repeated.
Josie sorted herself out a plateful of food and another glass of wine, then put the lids back on the takeaway containers for Pete. She was sure he’d be back soon. He absolutely would be.
A tear rolled down her cheek, and splashed into the wine as the doubts swam up in her next breath. No, he wouldn’t. She knew already that he wouldn’t. He’d left her. Nobody walked out on their wife and
Yet it was as if she couldn’t move. While she knew that she should be up there with him, pointing out all the great things about their marriage, all the reasons why he should stay rather than slink off to foxy Sabine, she just couldn’t do it, didn’t have the energy. Not when she knew she’d just be humiliated all over again with his rejection.
Minutes later, Josie heard his Audi rumble to a start, saw his headlights beam through the curtains at her, watched them swing away across the wall and then disappear. She shook uncontrollably. This is not happening, she told herself. This is not my life. My life is safe and certain. I’m the smug cow, the happily married one, remember? Bad things like this don’t happen to me. They don’t. They just can’t !
Her heart was thudding painfully. Her throat was dry. It was all a mistake. He’d made a mistake. She forced herself to stop crying, then picked up the phone and, calm as you like, ordered Thai for two. Yellow chicken curry for Pete, his favourite. Pad thai for herself. A couple of crab cakes with chilli dipping sauce too, please. Oh yes, and don’t forget the prawn crackers. How long would that be? Forty minutes? Lovely. Thank you!
She opened a bottle of wine and poured a large glass. The wine was greenish-yellow, expensive. No doubt from one of Pete’s internet wine clubs. The wine glass had been a wedding present from – who was it again? Her Auntie Jackie?
She drained it in one go. Who cared? What did it matter now?
She poured herself another, quickly. He’d be back soon, she told herself. He’d come back and take her in his arms and say . . .
What would he say?
I can’t believe I nearly walked out and lost you, Josie Bell, the best thing that ever happened to me.
It was madness to think I could leave you. Sheer madness!
Sabine means nothing to me. You are my life, Josie. You and the kids.
I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?
And Josie? She would cry with happiness. She would sob through that blue T-shirt of his, and say, It’s OK, baby. You’re back now. Curry’s on the way. Would you like a glass of wine?
And they would sit down and watch telly and he would check the sports news on Teletext every time there was an ad break, and she would start on the ironing pile. And they would go to bed, their king-size sleigh bed, which had been a joint wedding present from about fifteen of their friends, and they would hold each other all night, and he would say, I’m so sorry, Josie. Do you think we can forget this ever happened?
And she would close her eyes and breathe in his scent and say, Yes, my love. As long as you promise never, ever to do that again.
And he would say . . .
Josie jumped out of her reverie at the gentle knocking at the door. She knew it! He’d come back!
‘That’s fifteen-fifty, please. Enjoy your meal.’
It only ever took Josie a couple of glasses of wine to get giggly. Pete used to find that endearing, she knew. Sweet little wifey has such a low tolerance, bless her, aren’t women amusing?
She’d already downed two large glasses by the time the Thai delivery boy dropped off her fragrant, steaming food. ‘Keep the change,’ she told him earnestly, pressing a twenty into his hand. ‘Treat yourself. Do something nice. Seize the day.’
He was backing away with the money, not interested, not making eye contact, despite Josie’s best efforts. ‘Thank you. Enjoy your meal,’ he repeated.
Josie sorted herself out a plateful of food and another glass of wine, then put the lids back on the takeaway containers for Pete. She was sure he’d be back soon. He absolutely would be.
A tear rolled down her cheek, and splashed into the wine as the doubts swam up in her next breath. No, he wouldn’t. She knew already that he wouldn’t. He’d left her. Nobody walked out on their wife and
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