I hear her tapping on her keyboard. I begin walking back towards the flat. My purple wedges are rubbing against my heels. I should have agreed to a lift home.
‘Holy shit. You’re not wrong. Is that his real face?’
‘YES!’ I cry. ‘You see my problem?’
‘You lucky bitch. First Dylan and now him. You’re on a roll here.’
‘Well, technically Dylan didn’t actually fancy me like—’
‘Oh shush, of course he did, and you fancied him. Him being a sneaky fucker doesn’t mean he wasn’t attracted to you.’
‘What should I do about Tom?’
‘I don’t know. Do you think you can shag some sense into him? A few nights of dirty sex might make him reconsider this poetic bullshit.’
‘I’m willing to find out.’
‘Good. Listen, got to dash, but I’ll call you later.’
She hangs up on me and I continue home, hobbled by my soon to be ex-favourite shoes.
*
School’s out at three and I meet Rose at the gates. We decide to take the kids to a local soft-play so they can exhaust themselves, and we can catch up. As we enter Captain Clown’s Play Emporium we’re greeted by a host of screaming pre-schoolers and an overpowering waft of fish fingers and beans. We sit down beside an elderly woman who looks utterly horrified. It’s clear that Granny has mistakenly volunteered to bring little Johnny here, unaware of what horrors await her, and now she’s quietly hoping a mild stroke will end this madness.
‘Ever notice how stupid the name of this place is?’ Rose muses. ‘How the fuck can he be a captain AND a clown? Coffee?’ She wanders over to the food area, leaving me to ponder this. I look over and spy Grace disappearing into the ball pit. Jason is manoeuvring across a rope bridge with only one sock on, little beads of sweat forming on his brow. Rose returns with the coffee and I point her in the direction of Jason.
‘Aww, he thinks he’s Indiana Jones,’ I say, laughing.
‘Aye, if Indiana Jones was an seven-year-old shitebag.’ She grins at me and shakes a packet of brown sugar. ‘Oh, by the way, Rob is home tomorrow.’
‘How long for? It feels like a million years since I last saw him.’ I like Rob. He’s a gentle giant of a man with a massive beard and a passion for real ale and Bernard Matthews’s Mini Kievs. They met when Rose was dating George’s friend Alan in college and he introduced them. Although that was nine years ago, I think Alan (still single) might not be completely over Rose – he often spends the wee hours of the morning liking her Facebook photos and posts while she sleeps.
‘Two whole weeks, so I probably won’t see you much.’ Rose fishes a Chapstick out of her pocket and smears it over her lips. ‘I’m going to force him into doing all the school runs while I sleep until midday. He can collect Grace on Mondays too. I know you’re working.’
Then Jason returns, looking for juice and complaining that Grace isn’t playing with him properly.
‘She keeps doing things first!’ he moans, throwing himself down on a chair. ‘I wanted to jump in the ball pit first.’
Grace suddenly gallops over, thirsty and not giving a crap that Jason’s telling tales on her. She knocks back orange juice from a blue plastic tumbler, before triumphantly declaring, ‘You snooze, you lose, Jason!’ and disappearing back into the fray. Jason responds with a wail and Rose cuddles him, trying to keep a straight face. When Jason finally slopes off towards the slides, Rose whispers, ‘I like your kid. She doesn’t take shit. Just like her mother, eh?’ She winks.
*
Twenty minutes later, I’m ordering baked potatoes for the kids and wondering whether slushies are still as delicious as I remember them to be, when I hear my phone beep in my bag. It’s Dylan.
Well? How did it go?
This man is so impatient.
Will text you latex.
Oh yeah? Kinky. Can’t wait.
*LATER.
But you said latex.
Autocorrect fail. Now go away.
