‘So, was he good in bed? Did you kiss him? Oh Jesus, you kissed him, didn’t you? Fuck, I don’t know if I actually want to know any of this.’
‘I WASN’T VOLUNTEERING THE INFORMATION!’ I exclaimed. ‘Stop digging.’
She pulled me into Starbucks to grab a coffee. ‘But was he?Tall, skinny vanilla latte, please.Where did you do it? Did you go to his place? Oh God, I have so many questions.’
I promised to fill her in properly over lunch tomorrow and left her in Starbucks; I had to get back for Molly. I’m not sure if I want to rehash the past, to be honest, but she’s never going to let this go.
Tuesday June 6th
Frank is one of those fragile men who need to feel important. It’s his oxygen; without it, he’d quickly die and then we’d be obliged to attend his damn important funeral, so we all play along to avoid having to do this. He’s so transparent though – he’ll make you wait while he finishes a non-existent email or he’ll mention how much his suit cost or he’ll just randomly shout COME ON, PEOPLE, TIME IS MONEY while clapping his hands. He’s a fucking joke and every time I look at him, I’m reminded that I let that clapping buffoon into my knickers.
Wednesday June 7th
I had a dream last night where Kerry Washington invited me to stay at her house but I refused because fuck being in the same space with someone that perfect. Watching back-to-backScandalat bedtime may have been to blame. Oliver always rolls his eyes when I turn it on but he loves it more than I do.
We have therapy tomorrow. I feel things are going pretty well at the moment, both with our sex life and our relationship. Oliver doesn’t think we need to go anymore but I’m not so sure. It’s been more than useful so far and it’s certainly made Oliver far more communicative than he was. I don’t think about him kissing the mysterious Bethany as much as I used to but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about it at all. It’s still there. Quietly present. Maybe we can cut back to once a month and see how it goes?
Thursday June 8th
Highlights from our session with Pam today included:
•We’re definitely keeping the sex jar. Pam has encouraged us to use it as often as we feel we need to.
•Agreed to cut back our sessions to once a month, unless we feel we need more.
•Most importantly: keep talking and don’t go to bed on an argument.
I could see Oliver’s mind at work for new sex jar suggestions as we drove home. He appears to be motivated as fuck.
Friday June 9th
Things I know about our noisy upstairs neighbours: the woman’s name is Nicole and Nicole never listens. The reason I know this is because the man says it loudly every time they argue. Nicole also exercises after work every day at the same time and it sounds like the fucking Dawn Patrol from theJungle Bookon the ceiling above. Him? I have no idea about him, other than he appears to love the sound of his own voice, even though it breaks like a fourteen-year-old during their arguments. Oliver has gone up a couple of times to ask them to keep it down but it falls on deaf ears. We end up just banging the ceiling with a broom until they take the hint or start banging back defiantly. Fucking morons. I make a point of shouting HI, NEIGHBOUR when I see them to wind them up. It’s childish but I never claimed not to be.
Sunday June 11th
Hazel was forty-five today and just like every other birthday I’ve shared with her, she wasn’t happy. Kevin had arranged a meal for everyone at COSMO because now we have children, we don’t get to eat anywhere remotely high-brow.
‘I’M OLD!’ she yelled, as we made the mistake of wishing her a happy birthday. ‘Next year I’ll be middle-aged. This is not a time for celebration; this is a time for panicking and denial.’
Lucy hugged her to calm her down, whispering something in her ear which seemed to work, while we all took our seats. Lucy is the Hazel Whisperer.
We did presents while we waited for our drinks, handing Molly and Grace colouring books to keep them entertained for as long as possible. The place was packed, the lure of a buffet too great for many Glaswegians to resist.
Molly was starving, dragging Oliver and Grace up to the buffet in search of noodles, pizza and whatever else she could balance on her plate before she began destroying the dessert section.
Hazel flashed her new bracelet from Kevin, a white gold affair which dangled delicately from her wrist, while she opened the gift Lucy and I had clubbed in to buy her.
‘I love it!’ she declared, showing Kevin the spa package we’d got for the three of us. An overnight at Cameron House, with dinner, full use of the spa facilities, facials and massage. It cost a bloody fortune, but what the fuck do you buy someone who doesn’t need anything, except mud therapy with her mates?
As Oliver and the kids came back with their plates piled high, the rest of us followed suit, planning to eat at least six plates’ worth but straggling to finish a second. Despite Hazel’s initial freak out, we all had a fun evening.
Monday June 12th
At lunchtime, Lucy and I went to look at wedding dresses. I was happy to go with her, as it’ll undoubtedly be the only time I’ll set foot in a wedding dress shop, unless Molly also goes down this route when she falls madly in love with someone I deem unworthy.
We made it all the way to the front door of the shop before she suddenly froze, about-turned and started hurriedly walking the other way.
‘I’m not going in there,’ she stated, her pace reaching Usain Bolt level. ‘Nope. Uh-uh. It’s terrifying. I am not one of those women. Women change once they get that dress on. I’ve seen it on the telly. They become possessed. They start craving the perfect wedding – like ice sculptures and coordinating heel heights and fucking individually-wrapped kittens as wedding favours.’
