them you couldn’t possibly play golf with them for the next year because you have two sons to look after and your wife is having a nervous breakdown due to staff shortage and no weekly massages?’
Victoria’s voice almost broke as she spoke. She failed to see why Charles was still able to play golf, yet she had had to sacrifice everything that made life worthwhile. The only ‘luxury’ she had managed to keep was her weekly appointments with her cranial osteopath. Without that, she had explained calmly to everyone at the meeting, her weekly migraines would return and she would gladly kill herself.
Charles’s smile vanished.
‘Oh.’
‘Thought not.’
The awkward silence was interrupted by an eager Fi, standing by window.
‘Which one is that one?’ she asked, ‘He’s gorgeous.’
Annie couldn’t bring herself to walk to the window. She wasn’t sure what she found more disturbing, the fact that it could be Jake down there or that Fi thought he was gorgeous.
Charles went to look.
‘Ah: That one is the golfer. No, he’s the bad golfer—’
‘Is he the divorced short one?’ asked Sophie impatiently, now also at the window.
‘What’s his name?’ asked Victoria, who had joined her sisters-in-law.
Four women held their breath.
‘Um …’
‘Honestly, Charles,’ tutted his wife. ‘You were with him five minutes ago. What’s his name?’
‘Ah yes. That one’s … David.’
Annie exhaled.
‘No! Jake! Yes that’s right. Jake. Single, tall, bad but keen golfer. Moving in any day now. Splendid fellow.’
Sophie and Fi looked at each other and grinned.
Annie felt sick.
* * * * *
That night in their favourite café, against her better judgement, Annie told Cass the latest developments.
‘Jake’s turned “absolutely gorgeous” apparently,’ she scoffed.
‘Oh dear.’
‘I don’t understand it. I only dated him out of pity. He was a bespoke boyfriend rather than mass market. Trust him to go chocolate-box on me. Sophie and Fi both fancy him already.’
‘Really?’ asked Cass. ‘That should be fun to watch. Like watching two toy seal pups fight to the death.’
She gave a wicked grin, but Annie just sighed.
Suddenly Cass looked dramatically at her watch, landed her handbag heavily on the table, took out a little bottle, and stuffed it up her right nostril.
Annie stared at her in silence.
‘Sh!’ commanded Cass suddenly, and commenced sniffing. She put the bottle back in her bag. ‘Can you hear anything?’ she asked finally.
Annie was perplexed. There was utter silence in their corner of the café.
‘Nope,’ she whispered. ‘Should I be able to hear anything?’
‘You can’t hear my ovaries?’
Annie was completely confused.
‘ Hear your ovaries ? Cass, it’s too late in the evening to get surreal on me, what are you talking about?’
‘I’m “quietening down” my ovaries, like the nice doctor told me. You see, it all makes perfect sense – I have to get menopausal before I can have treatment to get pregnant. So when I start losing my teeth and forgetting why I’ve just opened the fridge door, I’ll be ready to be a mother.’
Annie looked perplexed.
‘I wouldn’t mind, but this stuff smells of dogturd.’
Two hours, two portions of hot buttered cinnamon toast and two hot chocolates later, Cass drove Annie home. Annie got out of the Land Rover.
‘Cheer up, Annie,’ said Cass before Annie shut the car door. ‘Jake can’t have turned into George Clooney overnight. And Markhams’ PR is going to be all right. Trust me, I’m your fairy godmother.’
Annie managed a smile.
‘Good luck with the menopause,’ she said to Cass before closing the door.
‘What menopause?’ asked Cass. ‘Oooh! It’s working!’
9
THE CRUNCH OF tyre on gravel crept into Annie’s dreams and the next moment, she woke suddenly. A car door far below her attic window slammed shut. Feet on gravel, the front door opening, then closing quietly. The echoing sound of
Victoria’s voice almost broke as she spoke. She failed to see why Charles was still able to play golf, yet she had had to sacrifice everything that made life worthwhile. The only ‘luxury’ she had managed to keep was her weekly appointments with her cranial osteopath. Without that, she had explained calmly to everyone at the meeting, her weekly migraines would return and she would gladly kill herself.
Charles’s smile vanished.
‘Oh.’
‘Thought not.’
The awkward silence was interrupted by an eager Fi, standing by window.
‘Which one is that one?’ she asked, ‘He’s gorgeous.’
Annie couldn’t bring herself to walk to the window. She wasn’t sure what she found more disturbing, the fact that it could be Jake down there or that Fi thought he was gorgeous.
Charles went to look.
‘Ah: That one is the golfer. No, he’s the bad golfer—’
‘Is he the divorced short one?’ asked Sophie impatiently, now also at the window.
‘What’s his name?’ asked Victoria, who had joined her sisters-in-law.
Four women held their breath.
‘Um …’
‘Honestly, Charles,’ tutted his wife. ‘You were with him five minutes ago. What’s his name?’
‘Ah yes. That one’s … David.’
Annie exhaled.
‘No! Jake! Yes that’s right. Jake. Single, tall, bad but keen golfer. Moving in any day now. Splendid fellow.’
Sophie and Fi looked at each other and grinned.
Annie felt sick.
* * * * *
That night in their favourite café, against her better judgement, Annie told Cass the latest developments.
‘Jake’s turned “absolutely gorgeous” apparently,’ she scoffed.
‘Oh dear.’
‘I don’t understand it. I only dated him out of pity. He was a bespoke boyfriend rather than mass market. Trust him to go chocolate-box on me. Sophie and Fi both fancy him already.’
‘Really?’ asked Cass. ‘That should be fun to watch. Like watching two toy seal pups fight to the death.’
She gave a wicked grin, but Annie just sighed.
Suddenly Cass looked dramatically at her watch, landed her handbag heavily on the table, took out a little bottle, and stuffed it up her right nostril.
Annie stared at her in silence.
‘Sh!’ commanded Cass suddenly, and commenced sniffing. She put the bottle back in her bag. ‘Can you hear anything?’ she asked finally.
Annie was perplexed. There was utter silence in their corner of the café.
‘Nope,’ she whispered. ‘Should I be able to hear anything?’
‘You can’t hear my ovaries?’
Annie was completely confused.
‘ Hear your ovaries ? Cass, it’s too late in the evening to get surreal on me, what are you talking about?’
‘I’m “quietening down” my ovaries, like the nice doctor told me. You see, it all makes perfect sense – I have to get menopausal before I can have treatment to get pregnant. So when I start losing my teeth and forgetting why I’ve just opened the fridge door, I’ll be ready to be a mother.’
Annie looked perplexed.
‘I wouldn’t mind, but this stuff smells of dogturd.’
Two hours, two portions of hot buttered cinnamon toast and two hot chocolates later, Cass drove Annie home. Annie got out of the Land Rover.
‘Cheer up, Annie,’ said Cass before Annie shut the car door. ‘Jake can’t have turned into George Clooney overnight. And Markhams’ PR is going to be all right. Trust me, I’m your fairy godmother.’
Annie managed a smile.
‘Good luck with the menopause,’ she said to Cass before closing the door.
‘What menopause?’ asked Cass. ‘Oooh! It’s working!’
9
THE CRUNCH OF tyre on gravel crept into Annie’s dreams and the next moment, she woke suddenly. A car door far below her attic window slammed shut. Feet on gravel, the front door opening, then closing quietly. The echoing sound of
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