Chapter Eleven
How dare he say this. How dare he blame me, as if I made the girl pregnant!
Oh, I’ve failed at plenty of things. My driving test twice. I never remember to engage my core, the way Pilates Wendy is always telling us to: ‘It’s the area where your six-pack would be, Carly.’ (Note: ‘Would be’. Not: ‘is’). And I’ve never managed to cook a meal that my dad has actually enjoyed. At least, shown any pleasure in eating.
But Frank is wrong in implying that this is my fault. Yes, I tried to tell Eddie about contraception. But saying I ‘did the talk’ makes it sound as if it was delivered effectively with major points all clearly communicated. Congratulations, Carly, on your excellent keynote speech!
What actually happened is, I’d got wind of the fact that they were doing sex ed in Eddie’s school year, and I wanted to make sure he’d understood things properly. However, with five of us here it was tricky to talk to any of the kids on their own. Then one afternoon, Frank and the girls had gone out. At last, my big chance!
I’d rounded on Eddie, trapping him like a rat in the kitchen. ‘Erm, I know you’re covering sex ed with Mrs Telfer,’ I started.
‘Er, yeah.’ He backed up against the fridge.
‘I just … y’know. Thought we could have a chat …’ Damn, I was sweating already. The girls had accepted some basic information from me – albeit tersely, in Bella’s case, as she’d stood there with arms folded, waiting for it to be over. Ana had giggled and made jokes throughout. But at least there’d been some communication. Eddie had always been more resistant.
‘No-it’s-fine-thanks,’ he squawked, then bobbed down to tug open a freezer drawer with unnecessary force.
‘Eddie,’ I carried on, addressing the back of his head as he burrowed noisily among its contents, ‘this is important, love. I want to make sure you’re clear about things that really matter, okay? Things like condoms and safe sex—’
He leapt up, pulling out a Magnum ice cream but also dislodging an open packet of frozen peas, which tumbled out, sending little green bullets shooting all over the floor.
‘Eddie!’ I cried.
‘Sorry. Gotta go. Meeting Raj.’ He gave the scattered peas a cursory glance and legged it out of the house.
‘Frank,’ I say now, as I follow him downstairs, ‘are you saying this is my fault?’
‘Of course not. I meant—’
‘Why didn’t you do the contraception talk?’ We are facing each other in the hallway now. ‘I asked you to, so many times—’
‘I was going to. I just didn’t get round to it.’
‘Were you planning on waiting until he was forty-five?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ He marches through the kitchen and storms out to our back garden that overlooks the sea. It’s dark already, and I stand there shivering at the door.
‘Please come back in, Frank.’
‘In a minute.’ He’s pacing around the lawn, back and forth.
‘You don’t have any shoes on. Just your socks …’
‘I’m fine!’ he snaps.
‘Can we stop being like this?’
He places a hand on his forehead and turns to me. ‘What’s he thinking, throwing away his life like this? The flat, the job, the new life in Edinburgh … he’s only getting started, Carly. After all this time. It’s fucking crazy.’
‘I know. It’s a disaster. But let’s not be like this—’
‘Like what?’ he exclaims. ‘What am I s’posed to be like?’ He marches towards me and barges back into the house.
I shut the door and reach for his hand. ‘I know it’s upsetting and shocking, Frank. Don’t you think I’m upset too? But being like this, it’s not helpful—’
‘I’m not trying to be helpful .’
‘No, well, that’s obvious!’ I let his hand drop and glare at him, this man I woke up with in Paris this morning, in our little white room, where we kissed and giggled that we should really get up, and there wasn’t time to do it. We still had to pack and check out and set off for the airport.
We had a quickie anyway, just like in the olden days, when we used to do it all the time. Afterwards, we hurried downstairs to the hotel’s front desk – a dishevelled middle-aged couple, giddily happy and flushed in the face. We were convinced the thin-lipped receptionist would know exactly what we’d just done.
We laughed and kissed in the street then, and strolled to the Metro station hand in hand. A fresh start, the holiday felt like. A thrilling new chapter for Frank and me.
And what is it, now we’re home again? I have no idea. What I do know is that right now, I’d rather kiss a goat.