Chapter 5
5
Mike isn’t home when I get in, although there’s a note on the fridge door informing me that there’s some chicken casserole I can microwave if I want. Mike was very anti having a microwave because he saw it as an affront to ‘real cooking’, but I put my foot down as I don’t think I could function without one. Most of the time, I’m so dog-tired when I get home after a shift that sticking something in the microwave is pretty much the limit of my ability. I say a silent ‘thank you’ to Mike as I retrieve the casserole and put it in to reheat.
I am a little disappointed he’s not here, as the mischievous part of me was quite looking forward to a bit of verbal sparring over my latest interaction with Luke, but it’s nearly nine o’clock on a Friday night, so I suspect he’s in a bar somewhere, softening up his latest conquest. When the microwave pings to let me know my food is ready, I settle myself on the sofa and, having double-checked the time, call my sister, Tash.
‘Hi, Tills,’ she says brightly when the call connects. Tash is the only person in the world allowed to call me Tills, and it grates a little even from her. ‘How are you?’
‘Same old,’ I tell her with a smile. ‘We had a guy in today who’d impaled himself on a railing. The team nicknamed him “Spike”. How’s the world of pedicures?’
Although Tash works in the same hospital as me, I never see her, because we’re in different departments and our shift patterns rarely overlap, but it’s still nice to know she’s in the building.
‘Paediatrics, cheeky cow,’ she tells me with a laugh. ‘It’s OK, although it does raise a question.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘How is it that I can work all day with sick children who are all little angels, and then come home to a perfectly healthy one who spends most of his time acting like the spawn of Satan?’
‘Isaac’s still a challenge then?’
‘Oh, yes. The preschool staff all love him and say what a sweetie he is, and he’s all smiles with them, and then he transforms into a monster the moment I get him into the car. It’s like Jekyll and Hyde. If you can bear some sage advice from your younger sister, it’s this: never get married. If you do, never have children. If you ignore that, for fuck’s sake don’t be fooled into thinking that giving them a Biblical name will mean they live up to it. Our Catholic education has a lot to answer for.’
‘Hmm. I’m not sure Biblical Isaac had a very good deal. I mean, his mum and dad obviously doted on him and everything, right up until the point where he had to basically build his own funeral pyre, his dad whipped out a knife and revealed he was going to sacrifice him. I mean, that’s a shit ton of family therapy right there. Social services would definitely have a lot to say.’
This does make her laugh. ‘You’re right, but at least Isaac was basically a good guy, unlike Jacob, who tricked his brother out of his share of the inheritance, or Joseph, who was arrogant prick numero uno . If he’d been my brother, I think I’d have thrown him into a pit too.’
‘I can always rely on you to tell it like it is,’ I tell her, joining in with her laughter before easing the conversation on to my real reason for calling. ‘Which is why I want to ask your advice.’
‘Sounds interesting. Go on.’
‘It’s about a man.’
‘A man, you say? Hold on. I need a wine top-up if we’re doing this.’ I hear her put down the phone and the distinctive noise of liquid being poured into a glass. Part of me would like to join her, but I’ve got to be up early in the morning and I definitely don’t want to be feeling groggy. ‘OK, I’m listening. Tell me about this man,’ she says when she picks the receiver back up.
‘It’s probably nothing,’ I tell her, before launching into a description of my two encounters with Luke.
‘I get why you’re a little reticent,’ she says once I’ve finished talking. ‘I’m sure it won’t be a surprise to learn that I’d have kicked him in the balls if he’d suggested that he was in any way better than me, but at least he realised he’d said the wrong thing straight away and apologised. Not many men would do that. So, if I can summarise, it seems that he’s definitely into you, you’re definitely into him physically but worried he might be a secret arsehole.’
‘That’s pretty much it,’ I agree. ‘I mean, he is good-looking and I do find his biceps very distracting.’ I decide not to tell her that he’s also featured in some rather graphic dreams that left me feeling distinctly hot and flustered.
‘Hmm. I think the men you’ve met through the apps recently have probably affected your judgement, but there’s no harm in being cautious. If I were you, I’d sit back and see what he does. He’s got your number, so he’ll text you if he’s keen. You’re holding all the cards at the moment because you’re not completely sure about him, so play that to your advantage. Maybe do the hard-to-get thing a little, but not too much. If this was a one-off aberration and he’s actually prime boyfriend material, you don’t want to scare him off.’
‘You’re sounding like Mum now,’ I tell her with a laugh. ‘Start going on about how long it’s been since my last relationship and how I’m not getting any younger and you could actually be her.’
‘Don’t,’ she groans. ‘She was on at me the other day about us conceiving a brother or sister for Isaac before I’m too old. I’m only thirty-two, for God’s sake! Now I come to think about it, you should definitely start dating this Luke guy. It will take her focus off me for a while.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ I remark sarcastically. ‘Talking of men, how’s Greg?’
‘Greg who?’
‘Ha ha. Your husband Greg.’
‘Oh, him! No idea. He’s off at some pharmaceutical conference in Birmingham being terribly busy and important. He’s here so rarely I swear Isaac hasn’t a clue who he is. He pops home at the weekends to claim his marital rights and then poof, he’s gone again and it’s like he was never here.’
‘Oh, Tash. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It’s the wine talking and I’m probably being overdramatic. It just seems like he’s away a lot lately.’
‘Have you asked him about it?’
‘Yeah. He said it’s just because he’s got two important deals running side by side at the moment. He’s promised things will calm down once he’s landed them, and he’s even suggested that we could go on holiday when he gets his commission.’
‘That would be nice.’
‘Mm. I fancy somewhere all-inclusive, where the only decisions you have to make are what to eat and drink next. There’d need to be a crèche too, so we could dump the devil child in there. Anyway, enough of my griping. Are you working this weekend?’
‘Saturday, but not Sunday. Why?’
‘Just wondering whether we should go and visit the olds. It’s been a month, and Mum is starting to sound wistful when I talk to her.’
‘We could do. We’d need to check with the parasites to make sure they weren’t planning to be there at the same time. We don’t want to overwhelm them.’
‘I’ll call Brett and see what their plans are. You’re up for it in principle though?’
‘Sure.’
The fact that our parents divorced when Tash was fifteen and I was thirteen is not unusual, and neither is the fact that they’ve both remarried and we’re now part of a blended family. ‘Parasites’ is our affectionate term for our step-siblings, and one they use just as freely on us. What is unusual is the way it came about. Brett, his sister Maria and their parents were our next-door neighbours and, because we were all of a similar age, we used to play together a lot and were always round at each other’s houses. Indeed, I think Tash had a bit of a crush on Brett for a bit, but the stepbrother thing swiftly put an end to that.
Our four parents were also good friends, and barely a week went by without them having at least one social gathering together. What was a surprise was when Mum and Dad announced that they were going to divorce, that Mum was going to move in next door with Brett and Maria’s dad, and their mother was going to move in with us. Although the adults were, and still are, very amicable about the whole thing, it was a huge blow to us children. When we initially started referring to Brett and Maria as parasites instead of step-siblings, there was no affection in it at all, and for a long time it seemed like we’d never be friends again.
However, as is often the case, time proved to be a healer and we slowly came to accept the new order of things. In fact, apart from the fact that the adults changed their sleeping arrangements, you’d struggle to notice that anything was different. Both houses still have an open-door policy. Tash and I have often speculated whether there was, and possibly still is, some wife-swapping going on, but have always agreed that there are some things it’s better not to know.
Tash calls back as I’m getting ready for bed. ‘I spoke to Brett. He and Maria went last weekend so we’re in the clear. I’ll call Mum in the morning.’
‘Thanks. Sleep well. Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
* * *
I don’t normally see Mike in the morning if I’m working a day shift at the weekend, as I’m usually out of the flat by seven so that I have plenty of time to get to the hospital and change before I start work. Mike has been known to fall out of bed less than thirty minutes before he’s due to be at his desk, but I’m not a last-minute merchant and the idea of starting the day without a long, hot shower is unthinkable.
I’m therefore a little surprised to see his bedroom door open as I’m waiting for the toaster to spit out my breakfast, but the mystery is soon solved when a woman appears, wearing one of Mike’s T-shirts and, from what I can see, not much else.
‘Good morning,’ I say brightly. I’m so used to seeing strange women coming out of Mike’s room that I can treat it as an entirely normal occurrence.
‘Hi,’ she says without a hint of embarrassment. ‘Mike is still asleep, but I’m an early riser so I thought I’d come and make a cup of coffee. I’m Sarah, by the way.’
‘Tilly,’ I tell her as I grab the toast and start spreading butter on it. ‘Short for Matilda. I’m Mike’s flatmate.’
‘I know.’ She smiles. ‘He told me all about you.’
‘None of it’s true, I assure you. Would you like a hand with the coffee machine? It’s a typical man gadget, so there’s a bit of a trick to it.’
‘Are you sure you have time? You look like you’re in a hurry.’
‘It’s fine. The traffic is always quieter on a Saturday,’ I tell her as I put water into the back of the machine and turn it on, before opening the cupboard where Mike keeps his coffee pods. ‘What would you like?’
‘Just a normal coffee with milk, please.’
I smile. ‘The one thing this machine isn’t really capable of doing. OK, we’ll do two shots of espresso and top it up with hot water. How does that sound?’
‘Perfect. Do you mind me asking how long you and Mike have lived together?’
‘Around six years. Why?’
‘Just curious. He’s a great guy, so I was just wondering why you hadn’t snapped him up.’
Bless her naivety, I think as I smile. ‘I love him, but purely as a friend. How long have you known him?’
‘I work in the oncology department. I’ve bumped into him a few times and we’ve been out for drinks once or twice. Last night was the first time… you know. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t treading on your toes or anything.’
‘That’s very kind of you, but there’s nothing between Mike and me, and there never will be. In the best possible way, you’re welcome to him.’
‘Thanks.’ She looks relieved. ‘I don’t normally stay over with a man so early in a relationship, but I’ve got a really good feeling about him, do you know what I mean? He’s kind, funny and, unlike most men, actually listens when I speak.’
I feel slightly sorry for her as I hand over her coffee.
‘He is a good man,’ I agree. ‘Not without his faults, but his heart is in the right place.’ Even as I say the words, I kind of despise myself a little for not telling her the truth, that he’s a terrible womaniser and she’s just the latest in a long line of notches on his bedpost. However, as I remind myself every time this happens, Mike’s love life is nothing to do with me. I can’t even remember the last time I had to visit the oncology department, so I’m unlikely to have to face any of the fallout when he invariably tells her that things are moving too fast, or whatever line he’ll use to gently push her aside later today.
‘Right, I’d better go,’ I tell her as she settles herself on the sofa with her coffee, tucking her legs up underneath her. ‘I’ll see you again soon, yeah?’
‘I’d like that,’ she replies. ‘It was nice to meet you, Tilly.’
‘Likewise.’
I feel such a fraud as I gently close the front door behind me. I know for sure that I’ll never see her again. I do love Mike, but not this side of him. One thing is for certain: if Luke thinks I’m going to be an easy conquest like one of Mike’s, he’s going to have another think coming.