children on a whim, did they?
Face it, Josie. He’s left you. He’s gone. Had enough of boring wifey. Off to the new sex kitten now.
She picked up the foil containers and moved towards the bin with them. Stupid cow, ordering so much food. Living in a dream world, like that conversation with Pete hadn’t just happened. Wise up! This lot would all get thrown away. What a waste!
She flipped up the lid with her foot and held the food over the bin, but at the last moment couldn’t quite bring herself to let go. She turned around and put them back on the worktop. Just in case. He still might come home. He really might. He had to come back sometime, didn’t he? It wasn’t like she was never going to see him again.
I am pretending that everything is going to be all right, she said to herself miserably, because everything has gone so wrong.
The smell of curry was making her feel sick. How had she ever imagined that she’d be able to eat? Was she mad?
She grabbed her wine and left the food to cool stickily on its plate as she marched into the living room. Suddenly she wanted to question Lisa. She wanted to know. The conversation with Pete already seemed like a blur. He’d moved so fast on to Sabine – slaggy Sabine! – and wanting to get out of the house that he hadn’t said much about Lisa, only that it had been a mistake. But when had the mistake been, and how long had it gone on for? Had it started before they were married? After? Recently?
She wrenched the phone from its base, and punched in Lisa’s number. Bile rose in her throat as she thought back to Lisa standing in her kitchen just that morning, telling her that Pete must have put the photo in Josie’s bag, and that was how it had ended up under her bed. Ha! She’d probably had a good old laugh about that piece of quick thinking since Josie had left. Smart move, Lise. Wormed your way out of that one nicely with your quickfire legal brain, didn’t you?
And all the while the photo had been Lisa’s. She’d propped it by her bedside, no doubt, when the affair was on, gazing into it every morning and night when Pete was in his own bed with Josie.
God. The thought made her feel sick.
‘Hello?’ Lisa said.
Josie squeezed her eyes shut for a second. She could just imagine Lisa in her slouchy Sunday cashmere, curled up in an armchair in that luxurious front room of hers, mohair cushion under her bum, pile of work on her lap . . . ‘It’s Josie,’ she said, in a strangled-sounding voice.
‘Hi, Josie,’ Lisa chirped. ‘Everything all right?’
‘I got your message,’ Josie replied, in as casual a way as she could manage. ‘You said to call?’
‘Oh! Oh yes,’ Lisa said. The brightness slipped from her voice momentarily. ‘Um . . . It was nothing really, just to see if you’d had a good trip back and to say thanks for coming.’
Josie pressed her lips together. For a few seconds she couldn’t speak. Then the rage powered up inside her and she opened her mouth and said, ‘Don’t lie. I know who your message was really for.’
There was a pause. ‘What . . . what do you mean?’ Lisa asked carefully. Ever the legal bloody eagle.
Josie shook her head at the question. What do you mean, indeed. Nice try at deflection, Lise. Not happening this time, though. ‘I think you know exactly what I mean,’ she spat. ‘I knew you were lying about the photo this morning. I knew it! And now I know the truth. Pete’s told me all about it. Everything.’
‘Oh God,’ Lisa said, a tremor in her voice. ‘Oh, Josie, I’m so—’
‘Leave it out,’ Josie snapped. ‘I don’t want to hear it. You backstabbing cow. You were supposed to be my friend !’
She slammed the phone down with a crash. Her throat was suddenly tight, as if she was going to choke.
The phone started ringing, but she ignored it. Lisa, no doubt, to grovel and kiss her arse. No chance. She was so sacked as a friend! How could she have been so coldblooded?
The answerphone kicked
Face it, Josie. He’s left you. He’s gone. Had enough of boring wifey. Off to the new sex kitten now.
She picked up the foil containers and moved towards the bin with them. Stupid cow, ordering so much food. Living in a dream world, like that conversation with Pete hadn’t just happened. Wise up! This lot would all get thrown away. What a waste!
She flipped up the lid with her foot and held the food over the bin, but at the last moment couldn’t quite bring herself to let go. She turned around and put them back on the worktop. Just in case. He still might come home. He really might. He had to come back sometime, didn’t he? It wasn’t like she was never going to see him again.
I am pretending that everything is going to be all right, she said to herself miserably, because everything has gone so wrong.
The smell of curry was making her feel sick. How had she ever imagined that she’d be able to eat? Was she mad?
She grabbed her wine and left the food to cool stickily on its plate as she marched into the living room. Suddenly she wanted to question Lisa. She wanted to know. The conversation with Pete already seemed like a blur. He’d moved so fast on to Sabine – slaggy Sabine! – and wanting to get out of the house that he hadn’t said much about Lisa, only that it had been a mistake. But when had the mistake been, and how long had it gone on for? Had it started before they were married? After? Recently?
She wrenched the phone from its base, and punched in Lisa’s number. Bile rose in her throat as she thought back to Lisa standing in her kitchen just that morning, telling her that Pete must have put the photo in Josie’s bag, and that was how it had ended up under her bed. Ha! She’d probably had a good old laugh about that piece of quick thinking since Josie had left. Smart move, Lise. Wormed your way out of that one nicely with your quickfire legal brain, didn’t you?
And all the while the photo had been Lisa’s. She’d propped it by her bedside, no doubt, when the affair was on, gazing into it every morning and night when Pete was in his own bed with Josie.
God. The thought made her feel sick.
‘Hello?’ Lisa said.
Josie squeezed her eyes shut for a second. She could just imagine Lisa in her slouchy Sunday cashmere, curled up in an armchair in that luxurious front room of hers, mohair cushion under her bum, pile of work on her lap . . . ‘It’s Josie,’ she said, in a strangled-sounding voice.
‘Hi, Josie,’ Lisa chirped. ‘Everything all right?’
‘I got your message,’ Josie replied, in as casual a way as she could manage. ‘You said to call?’
‘Oh! Oh yes,’ Lisa said. The brightness slipped from her voice momentarily. ‘Um . . . It was nothing really, just to see if you’d had a good trip back and to say thanks for coming.’
Josie pressed her lips together. For a few seconds she couldn’t speak. Then the rage powered up inside her and she opened her mouth and said, ‘Don’t lie. I know who your message was really for.’
There was a pause. ‘What . . . what do you mean?’ Lisa asked carefully. Ever the legal bloody eagle.
Josie shook her head at the question. What do you mean, indeed. Nice try at deflection, Lise. Not happening this time, though. ‘I think you know exactly what I mean,’ she spat. ‘I knew you were lying about the photo this morning. I knew it! And now I know the truth. Pete’s told me all about it. Everything.’
‘Oh God,’ Lisa said, a tremor in her voice. ‘Oh, Josie, I’m so—’
‘Leave it out,’ Josie snapped. ‘I don’t want to hear it. You backstabbing cow. You were supposed to be my friend !’
She slammed the phone down with a crash. Her throat was suddenly tight, as if she was going to choke.
The phone started ringing, but she ignored it. Lisa, no doubt, to grovel and kiss her arse. No chance. She was so sacked as a friend! How could she have been so coldblooded?
The answerphone kicked
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