AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Thursday 13 June 2013
136lb (bloody chicken pie, plus egg glaze), alcohol units 7 (counting last night), hangovers 1 (cataclysmic), temperature 90 degrees, peppers chopped 12, melon balls consumed 35, wrinkles appeared during course of day 45, number of times used word ‘fart’ in texts to Roxster 9 (undignified).
Awoke at first light feeling everything was OK, then suddenly glimpsed the tip of the iceberg of the train wreck of last night. Doorbell rang at 10 p.m. at which I sprayed myself with perfume and answered the door in more or less nothing but the white shirt.
Roxster said, ‘Mmm, you look so nice,’ and started kissing me all the way down the stairs. We ate the chicken pie, and downed the bottle of red wine he’d brought. He said I was to sit down on the sofa and relax, while he washed up. I watched him, thinking how lovely everything was, but still vaguely wondering why and how he’d managed to eat a curry and then a chicken pie and not feel or look like he had eaten a Bambi. Then he came over and knelt at my feet.
‘I have something to say,’ he said.
‘What?’ I said, smiling at him sleepily.
‘I’ve never said this to any woman before. I heart you, Jonesey. I really, seriously heart you.’
‘Oh,’ I said, looking at him slightly crazily, one eye closed and one open.
‘And if it wasn’t for the age difference,’ he went on, ‘I’d be down on one knee. I really would. You’re the best woman I’ve ever met and I’ve hearted every minute we’ve had together. But it’s different for you because you’ve got your kids and I haven’t got my life sorted out. This is just not going anywhere. I really need to meet someone my own age, and I can’t do that unless I’m able to do that. Does that make any sense whatsoever?’
Maybe if I’d been less tired I’d have tried to talk it through properly, but instead I immediately turned into Girl Guide mode, launching into a cheery speech about how of course he was right! He must find someone his own age! But it had been marvellous for both of us, and we’d both learned and grown so much!
Roxster was staring at me with a haunted expression.
‘But can we still be friends?’ he said.
‘Of course,’ I gushed joyfully.
‘Do you think we’ll be able to see each other without tearing each other’s clothes off?’
‘Of course!’ I said merrily. ‘Anyway, chuh! Best be getting off to bed. Sports Day tomorrow!’
I saw him out, with a fixed, cheery smile, then, instead of doing the sensible thing and texting Rebecca and asking her to come over, or calling Talitha or Tom or Jude or anyone, really, I got into bed and sobbed for two hours until I fell asleep. And now, oh, shit, it’s 6 a.m., the kids will be up in an hour and I have to take chopped vegetables and both of them to Sports Day, on half a bottle of red wine and four hours’ sleep, in the now, freakishly, blazing heat.
6 p.m. Managed to get everyone and everything into car on time, drive to sports ground, and then get everybody and everything out of the car by pretending was soldier in a war combined with the Dalai Lama. Billy and Mabel had forgotten all about the Father’s Day trauma and were wildly jolly, running off immediately to charge around with their friends, mercifully forgetting all about their melting-down mother as well.
Unfortunately, however, in the midst of laying out picnic rugs and chopped vegetables, said melting-down mother was suddenly overcome with un-Zen-like rage at Roxster for putting her into such a meltdown and sent off a blistering texting rant which went as follows:
Broke off briefly to graciously pour out some of my giant bottle of Pimm’s for Farzia and the other mothers.
Then turned back to the group, commenting flatteringly upon the delicious picnic, before returning to my t
ext with an apologetic smile suggesting that I was a very busy and important businesswoman and not just texting farts to a toy boy who had dumped me unequivocally for being too old.
The phone vibrated.
Roxster:
Me:
Quickly checked the children – Billy was running round maniacally with a group of boys and Mabel and another small girl were cheerfully saying obscurely mean things to each other – then returned to my texting exchange.
Roxster:
Me:
Roxster:
Me:
‘Enjoying supporting the sporting activities?’
