4. Leah
4
Leah
Trying to garden with an injured knee is not fun. I decide to abandon thoughts of weeding flowerbeds given I’d need to be on my knees or bending over which would hurt my neck. Instead I’ll start a bit of painting. Painting my room will also be painful but for an entirely different reason. My mum had this room decorated in my favourite colours of cerise and baby pinks. Today I’m going to use magnolia to wipe away all traces of my personality from my bedroom while Carl continues plastering the walls of the living room, now the years of wallpaper have been stripped from them.
I throw myself on my bed and sigh. Looking around, I try to fix my room into my memory bank. Except instead thoughts of the hot daddy next door come into my mind. Between my thighs I feel my knickers soak once more as I think about his fingers stroking my knee.
Closing my eyes, I take my own fingers and stroke at my knee just as he did, imagining it’s his own. God, I’m a sad cow, but I’m also mega turned on now and seeing it’s a rare time at the moment with no one else in the house, I intend to make the most of it. My fingers become Jenson’s and they trail up my thighs. In my fantasies Amelia has gone to stay with mummy and we are definitely home alone.
Dipping my fingers to my sweet spot, I groan as I flick my fingertip at my nub. Self-love is usually just a means to an end for me, but now, imagining Jenson touching me intimately, I am on fire. My fingertips sweep over my clit again and again and then I take two fingers of my other hand and push them inside me, now imagining Jenson’s throbbing cock pushing in deep. Before long I’m bucking over my fingers as my body trembles with an explosive orgasm.
And then my face flushes as guilt hits about what I’ve just done. How will I look him in the face now? I rush to the bathroom and shower as if I can wash off all trace of my masturbation session. The water makes my princess plaster come loose and fall into the shower tray and makes me feel even guiltier.
I dry myself off quickly and get dressed as the plasterer will be back again soon and then heading to the kitchen I make myself a coffee. Despite my recent orgasm, a feeling of general frustration seems to have seeped into my bones. Hearing voices outside, I spy through the edge of my curtain and see Jenson with another woman. Fuck. With him saying he had an ex-wife, I’d presumed he was single. My stomach suddenly feels lined with lead and if I didn’t want to risk a broken toe, I’d probably kick the wall. They are carrying tubs and files to his car and I wonder what they are. The plasterer’s van turns onto the street and I get excited that I have an excuse to get to the door, an opportunity to say hi to Jenson again.
What about the woman? Sure she’ll be impressed if you start waving and simpering at her man. God, my inner thoughts are a party pooper.
I quickly run my hands through my hair like a sad bitch before opening the door to let Carl in. As I greet him and step back to let him pass, my eyes meet Jenson’s. His gaze is steely and focused and I can’t work out his facial expression. He seems a little pissed with me, but I’ve not done anything. Oh, he’s probably off to work and late, stressed. I need to stop being so paranoid all the time. I’d always been confident and scared of nothing until my parents unexpected deaths. Now I feel constantly on edge, wondering if anything else wants to turn my life upside down.
I follow Carl into the living room, and I know he’s chatting away to me but I’m in the window looking at Jenson again as he bids goodbye to the mystery woman and drives off. She must be important because she’s looking after Amelia and I know already from one meeting that Jenson would not allow just anyone to care for his daughter.
“Earth calling Leah.”
I turn and stare at Carl, with a no doubt vacant expression on my face.
“God, I’m so sorry, Carl.” I lift up my coffee mug. “I’m half dead today, hence this is my third cup. You fancy one?”
“I’m guessing you mean a coffee?” Carl quips. He’s a typical workman, with a pleasant demeanour and a cheeky bluster about him. His eyes have looked me up and down twice already today but hell, he’s male, and I know my clothes are scanty, but it’s so hot weather wise and doing physical work makes it even worse. Soon, Carl will remove his t-shirt and I’ll be checking out those toned abs of his so I can’t complain he checks me out too. Tall, with sandy, wavy hair and green eyes, Carl is a good looking guy, but when I look at him there’s no connection. Not like I had with Jenson.
God, will you stop mooning about Jenson, it’s pathetic. He has a girlfriend and Carl’s single. Flirt with Carl.
But I can’t. Jenson’s hazel gaze meeting mine is on repeat in my mind.
I spend the rest of the morning emptying my bedroom into boxes: some things to keep, some for charity, some for the bin. Once it’s painted, I will live in my personality-free bedroom until it becomes someone else’s. I have all the neutral new bedding purchased along with matching curtains. A blank slate for someone else.
From then on it’s masking tape everywhere and by the time lunchtime comes around I’m a sweaty heap. Carl has brought lunch, so I just make him another drink, and I take my own sandwich and glass of water into the garden.
My parents’ back garden is long with a decking area at the top with a table and chairs and then it leads down to a grassed area. At the bottom is a glass greenhouse next to my father’s vegetable patch. I’ve been watering everything that was left in there but that’s been it. I guess really I should harvest any veg that’s ready, but I’ve been existing on pizza and takeaways, evidenced by the extra few pounds on my tits and arse. It’s hard to cook for one. Maybe I could invite Jenson and Amelia around for a meal? Except, I can barely cook. Wandering down to the veg patch, I try to work out what’s in there. Little stringy bean things, tomatoes, cucumbers that are so huge they look obscene, and a row of chillis. What the heck was my dad intending to do with that many? Finding a clean large plant pot in the greenhouse, I start taking off everything that seems ready. I’ll take a load of veg around next door later tonight as a thank you for them caring for me and feeding me this morning and I’ll try to find out who the woman is like the sad bitch I am.
My bedroom looks over the back garden and once I’m back there after my garden foraging and eating my lunch, I emulsion a wall and then peer out nosying as I watch Amelia running around her garden dressed as a princess. Christ, she must be roasting hot in that costume. Sure enough, the woman comes out and inflates a paddling pool, putting the hose in it to fill it and then changes Amelia into a swimsuit and lathers her in suntan lotion. They look so comfortable together. This woman has clearly been in Amelia’s life for a long time. She’s slim and pretty, with light-brown curly hair. Dressed in a long yellow sundress with a daisy design on it, she looks the epitome of effortless summer glamour. Her feet are encased in gold sandals. As she walks, her buttoned up sundress reveals a hint of shapely calf. Goddamn it. I take my frustrations out on the next wall, getting more paint on my body, face, and in my hair as I smack the roller onto the plaster and push it up and down. I turn on the radio to drown out the sounds of the two of them enjoying themselves in the garden.
* * *
“I’m done for the day, darlin’.” I pivot to find Carl standing in the doorway. “Jesus, you look like you got more paint on yourself than the wall.” He sniggers, once more appraising my body, although this time it’s amusement not lust reflected in his features.
I grin back at him. “Yep, but the job’s almost done, so it’s worth it. Emulsion washes off easily enough.”
“True. So anyway, the living room is all done. I’ll be back tomorrow for the kitchen. We’re getting there, Leah. The weather will help loads with drying the walls, but leave the windows open and my industrial fans on okay?”
I salute him and a spray of paint flows out in his general direction. Thank God for distance between us, and old curtains covering my carpet. Once these walls have another coat of paint later on, I can get cleared up and the carpet cleaned and this room will be done.
I hear the door close and breathe out a huge exhale with relief that once more it’s just me in the house. Time for another coffee break, then to get the second coat of paint on, and then another shower and another takeaway. I have no energy for cooking tonight. I have barely enough to paint again. The heat and the effort are wiping me out.
So it’s funny later after my takeaway that I suddenly have enough energy to pop next door with my now bagged up veggies. Given how sophisticated the woman next door looked, I put on a mint-coloured tea-dress that my mother made me buy for a wedding reception, along with a pair of grey kitten heels. I straighten my hair and add a light dusting of make-up. I don’t want to appear like I’m trying too hard. I watched the woman leave earlier so I know there are only the two of them in the house now. Grabbing my plastic bag full of veg, I open my door, removing the key and putting it in my little grey shoulder bag and then I walk down my path, across the front, and up their path.
With one last smooth of my hair and my dress, I ring the doorbell.
I hear an, “Amelia, come back. What have I told you about safety? Adults answer the door, not six-year-olds.” A curtain pulls back and Jenson’s gaze meets mine through the window. I smile and my smile is returned. Then a little body pushes past him and Amelia is waving and grinning through the window and I notice she has a gap at the middle of her top row of teeth where this morning there was none.
They disappear from the window and there’s a fiddling of a key in the lock and then the door opens and he’s standing in front of me. He’s dressed in an open white shirt, and I find it quite hard not to pass out from sheer lust from where I’m standing. I can see a six-pack and oh my fucking god there’s the ‘v’ running into his low-slung jeans. This shouldn’t be allowed. God, that lucky bitch who just left. Please let her just be a childminder , I beg to every deity I know.
“Hey.” I hold up the bag. “So, my dad used to be a keen gardener and I’ve rescued some veg from the patch. There’s far too much for me, and to be honest, I can barely cook, so can you use any of this?” I hand over the bag.
“You don’t need to cook. My daddy’s a chef. He can cook all your dinners, can’t you, Daddy?” Amelia jumps up and down excitedly. “What’s in the bag, Daddy? Show me.”
He looks at me and at Amelia and back again. “I have a little budding chef of my own.”
“Ah, right. I brought these to the right place then.”
“Tomatoes, cumber. What are those little red things, Daddy? Are they baby peppers?”
“They’re chillis, sweetpea. And they are spicy hot. You have to be careful with cutting and handling those so for now they are just for me to use okay? You stick with the tomatoes.” He passes a small cherry one to her and she stuffs it in her mouth. “That’s so delicious. I think that’s the best tomato I ever tasted. Another, Daddy, another.”
He lifts up a pepper and stares at it. “Wow, a Bird’s Eye chilli,” he says. I look at him, feeling a crease come to my brow.
“Bird’s Eye? Like the people who make fish fingers?”
He guffaws with laughter. “No, that’s the name of the variety. It originated in Thailand, Cambodia, places like that; but it’s used around the world in cuisine now. They’re called Bird’s Eye because of their roundish shape and the fact that birds spread them.
“Oh.” I reply feeling stupid.
“I like your dress.” Amelia says. “Does it twirl?”
“Er, I’m not sure.” I reply honestly, bearing in mind I never got up to dance at the wedding reception because the DJ insisted on playing shit like The Birdie Song all night.
“Well, try please.”
“Amelia, stop being bossy.”
“It’s okay.” I tell her dad. “I’ll try it.”
So I swirl around and sure enough the dress twirls and then the summer breeze gets behind it and the next thing I know, I’ve flashed my thong at the pair of them.
“I can see your bum!” Amelia giggles.
I want to die.