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  “Coffee?” said Rosie brightly. In her effort to be jolly, Jo’s bosom buddy was starting to sound like Mickey Mouse. Another octave higher and only dogs would hear her. Jo knew that Rosie had never seen her in such a state and that she felt at a loss as to how to help.

  “Thanks again for helping out this morning, Rosie. I still don’t know how I managed to get the kids ready. Habit, I guess.”

  “Yes, like anyone who feels they’re about to drown in a sewer, you just kick your legs and go through the motions,” said Rosie. Jo had chastised her in the past for making jokes at inappropriate moments, but she still did it when she was nervous.

  “I feel like I already have drowned,” said Jo, tears welling in her eyes. “It’s so weird . . . so bloody wretched.” She picked up the corner of the tablecloth and used it to wipe her eyes.

  “Tell me everything,” said Rosie quietly.

  Twisting a handkerchief around and around her fingers, Jo talked. When she stopped, Rosie held her breath for several seconds, then let out a long sigh. “I know I’ve always said you can’t trust a husband too far or a bachelor too near, but I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I mean, you and Jeff were so stable, boring even.”

  “Thanks, Rosie. Not so boring now though, are we?” said Jo, not waiting for an answer. “That’s what makes this so impossible to believe. I thought Jeff and I were stable. OK, so it wasn’t the most exciting marriage in the world, but we knew where we were. Or at least I thought we did. It would never have crossed my mind he would leave me for someone else, let alone a bloody twenty-three-year-old.” She stopped and stared miserably into the middle distance.

  “It’s a shame Jeff took those bloody photos with him. We could have stuck pins in them,” said Rosie, absentmindedly picking cat hairs from a cushion. “What does The Cliché look like?”

  Jo noticed she had already adopted her soubriquet for the enemy. “She’s your average bottle blond with the thighs of a twenty-three-year-old. Why?”

  “Oh, I was just thinking about that famous story of a man who had three women to choose from.” Rosie put her empty cup in the sink. “He gave them all a thousand pounds and told them to do what they liked with it. The first woman spent the lot on a designer suit. The second woman spent five hundred and invested the rest. The third woman invested the lot. So which one did he marry?”

  “Haven’t a clue.”

  “The one with the biggest tits.” Rosie’s face broke into a wicked grin.

  For the first time in hours, Jo laughed. Genuine, therapeutic laughter. It was a start.

  “There you are, you see. Your old mate can still make you laugh, so things can’t be that bad, can they?”

  But by the time Rosie had finished her sentence, Jo’s feeling of leaden misery had returned. “How does that old saying go? ‘You never know what you want until it’s gone,’ ” she said.

  “But is it what you want?” asked Rosie tentatively.

  “What do you mean?” Jo frowned and took a sip of the weak, over-milky coffee that had been placed in front of her.

  “I don’t know . . . it’s just that I can look at your relationship with Jeff from an outsider’s point of view, and it was far from perfect, wasn’t it?”

  “What relationship isn’t?”

  “Yes, I know that. But the bottom line of why most people stay together is because, despite the occasional rocky patch, they love each other and enjoy each other’s company.” Rosie paused. She knew Jo was waffling, so she went straight for the jugular.

  “Do you love Jeff?”

  Jo’s eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time Rosie had ever asked her that. Through their twenties they had talked about little else but sex. Once she and Jeff had married their conversations had turned more to Rosie’s sex life, or lack of it, and their jobs.

  “How odd, Jeff asked me that too,” said Jo. She had picked up a piece of scrap paper from the table and was systematically tearing it into tiny pieces.

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “Of course I love him. I married him and had his kids, didn’t I?” She was irritated that first Jeff and now Rosie were making such a big issue out of whether or not she loved her husband. As she saw it, he had left her and any blame lay firmly at his doorstep.

  “Come on, Jo. You know that’s not an answer.” Rosie paused and looked at her. “OK, you’re probably not going to like this, but I’m going to say it anyway. I have thought it ever since you told me you were going to marry him, but never said anything because I knew your mind was made up.”

  “What is it?” Jo was irritated by the big build-up. She also had a nagging feeling she was about to hear the lurid details of another Jeff misdemeanor that she knew nothing about. She fixed Rosie with an obstinate glare.

  “Jeff’s not the right man for you. Never has been.” Jo watched as Rosie fell back onto the cushion behind her as if she had just delivered a Churchillian speech.

  “Is that it?”

  “Well, that’s enough, isn’t it? I mean, it’s not every day you’re told that the father of your children is the wrong man for you.”

  “But that’s just your opinion, Rosie. It doesn’t mean it’s true. There are sides to my relationship with Jeff you never see.”

  “Oh, right. So as soon as I walk out the door you become animated and interested in each other, do you? Because from where I’ve been sitting these last few years you two seem to have little in common other than Thomas and Sophie. I don’t mean to sound cruel, but it has to be said.”

  Jo retreated into a sullen silence. She knew she had spent years whining on about Jeff. He was emotionally stunted, inconsiderate, insensitive, often lazy, you name it, she had criticized him for it. But now that he had really done something for her to rant and rave about, she found herself defending him, irritated by her friend’s attack on her marriage. She started slightly as Rosie took her hand. Embarrassed by the chipped and bitten nails that had once been fastidiously buffed and painted, she curled her fingers into a tight ball.

  “You used to be so much fun, Jo, and I was so proud to be your friend. You had an enthusiasm for life I always envied and a magnetism I could only aspire to. I can’t tell you the times I saw a bloke I fancied when we were younger and within minutes he would be totally absorbed in you. It wasn’t your fault, you just had something that drew people to you.”

  Jo felt a solitary tear run down her face. It scared her how utterly empty and devastated she felt. She knew she was unrecognizable as the girl who had entranced so many over the years. Rosie had always told her she imagined her marrying someone equally mesmerizing. A man who adored her and was devastatingly good-looking with a fantastic career. She remembered the countless times they had sat around the kitchen table at Rosie’s parents’ house and described the man of their dreams. Rosie’s criterion was that he had to be breathing, but Jo had always come up with a princely description.

  When she met Jeff she knew Rosie dismissed him as someone who wouldn’t be around for long. He was fairly good-looking, but he was never going to set the world alight. Yet the relationship went on. And on. Much to Rosie’s obvious annoyance. Then, horror of horrors, they got married. Rosie was smiling on the wedding photos, but Jo knew it had taken every ounce of effort in her body. Here we are ten years on and she’s been proved right, thought Jo. But she didn’t say it. She was stirred from her trance by Rosie’s touch as she reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

  “Since you married Jeff I’ve watched your zest for life slowly drain away. Now you just seem sad and tired all the time, bored even. Bored of life with a man who doesn’t inspire you in any way.” She stopped talking and they both sat in silence. The only sound Jo registered was the kitchen clock ticking.

  Then Jo straightened her back, rose to her feet and stood looking down at Rosie. “Have you finished? Because if you have finished telling me what a waste of time my ten-year marriage has been, not to mention my children, then I’d like you to go
now. I have things to do.”

  Rosie looked stunned. “Jo, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, you couldn’t upset me any more than Jeff has already. It’s just that I thought you’d come to give me moral support, not pick apart my marriage.”

  “But Jeff’s left you for another woman. You were calling him all the names under the sun earlier. What’s changed all of a sudden?”

  “Look, I really don’t want to discuss it any further. I’d be grateful if you’d just leave and give me some time to myself.” Jo turned her back and stared out of the window.

  “Well, if that’s what you want, I’ll go.” Rosie’s voice was barely audible.

  After she’d left, Jo walked through the eerily quiet house and sat on the bottom stair in the hallway. She was still seething over Rosie’s remarks about her marriage.

  It was alright for her to criticize it, but she damn well wasn’t going to let anyone else attack it. Was this through loyalty to Jeff, she wondered? If so, why on earth was she still defending him? Jo couldn’t work out why she had been so snippy with Rosie. Maybe it was because she didn’t like the truth. A lot of Rosie’s comments had hit a raw nerve and she hadn’t liked the feelings they’d stirred up. When did she become miserable? She’d had slight misgivings on her wedding day, but didn’t any bride? Once she had taken her vows she remembered feeling relieved that there wasn’t a choice to be made anymore. Now she just had to get on and make the best of the marriage.

  Suddenly, a particular memory drifted into her thoughts and she sat bolt upright. Her father.

  As they had circled the church for the second time in their attempt to be “fashionably late,” he’d leaned over and whispered in her ear, “It’s not too late to change your mind, you know.”

  Jo had laughed as he said it, but when he sat back, she saw he wasn’t smiling. She’d forgotten that moment until now.

  Looping her arm through the banisters, she leaned her forehead against the cool gloss of the wood and wondered whether her father had felt the same as Rosie about her marrying Jeff. Getting to her feet, she walked through to the sitting room and moved a small stool in front of the built-in bookshelves. Stepping up, she reached to the very top shelf and pulled down a dust-covered photograph album. Sitting on the floor, she opened the first page and studied the single photograph on it. Her and Jeff on their wedding day.

  There was nothing like wedding photographs for dating quickly and theirs were no exception. The look was pure eighties. Jeff was wearing a shiny suit and his hair, pre bald-patch, was short at the sides and heavy on top. He had a mustache Tom Selleck would envy. Jo’s dress looked like an explosion in a doily factory, with huge shoulder pads covered in lace and a drop waist. Wearing sky blue eyeliner and her shoulder-length hair curled backward, she looked like Farrah Fawcett on acid. But they seemed happy enough. They were both beaming at the camera and the smile was genuine enough to reach their eyes. Jo turned the page.

  Here were the bride and groom posing with her parents and Jeff’s mother. His father had died of a heart attack when Jeff was eight. Jo’s mother Pam was in her element with a hideous hat the size of Texas, a scarlet suit to match her face, and Minnie Mouse-style shoes with black bows on the front. But Jo was interested in the expression on her father’s face. She peered closely at the picture. He did indeed look miserable. She’d never noticed it before. He was standing next to her mother, but there was a good six-inch gap between them. His face was impassive, but his eyes looked sad, defeated somehow. I suppose all daddies think no one is good enough for their little girl, mused Jo as she smoothed out a crease in the page.

  On the facing page was Rosie, chief bridesmaid and decked out like the Christmas fairy. Jo hadn’t wanted an adult bridesmaid, preferring instead to stick to her cousin’s cute little daughter, but she knew Rosie was desperate to have a key role on her big day. So she had walked down the aisle with little Chloe and the rather larger Rosie behind her. Or “the bat and ball” as Jo’s brother, Tim, had called them.

  Tim. I wonder what he thought about me marrying Jeff, she wondered. Not a great deal probably. Thinking wasn’t Tim’s strong point. He would have regarded the whole day as a chance to get pissed free of charge and maybe grab a snog with one of Jo’s old school friends. Tim was four years younger than Jo but acted as though he was twelve most of the time. They had hated each other for much of their childhood but had now settled into a more easygoing relationship. He was also a fantastic uncle to the kids and lived conveniently round the corner.

  She closed the wedding album and placed it back on the shelf. On the shelf, just like me, she thought. Her throat tightened. In the photographs she had looked so full of hope for the future.

  She closed her eyes and slumped back against the wall, deep in thought. Five minutes later the phone rang. Her heart leapt into her mouth. Could it be Jeff?

  “Hello?” Despite making every effort to sound calm, her voice was shaky.

  “Are you alright dear?” It was her mother.

  Jo and her mother had always had a strained relationship, but the sound of a friendly voice was too much for her and she made a small choking sound as she tried to suppress a sob.

  “Jeff’s walked out on me and the kids,” she blurted.

  “What . . . do you mean?” her mother faltered.

  “For God’s sake Mum, which word don’t you understand? He’s gone off to shag someone else. Does that make it any clearer?” Jo snapped, angry for telling her mother so soon.

  “There’s no need to swear, Jo.”

  Bloody marvelous. Here she was having a virtual breakdown and her mother still managed to speak to her like she was twelve years old.

  “Look Mum, I’m sorry to drop it on you like this, but you’ve called at a bad time, you know? It only happened last night.”

  “Well, what on earth did you do to make him leave like that? I mean, Jeff’s a good man. He wouldn’t have left without a reason.”

  Jo was momentarily stunned by her mother’s hardly veiled attack on her wifely skills. “That’s it Mum, you take his side. I suppose if he’d given me a couple of black eyes that would be my fault too, would it? Look, I really can’t listen to this crap right now. I’ll call you in a couple of weeks.” She broke into another sob and put the phone down. It rang again seconds later but she ignored it.

  Great, she thought, as she plonked herself down on the sofa. First Jeff, then Rosie, now my mother. Who am I going to fall out with next?

  She was starting to feel guilty about being so hard on Rosie. After all, she had only said those things out of a misguided sense of loyalty. And she had been an absolute rock coming round and cooking breakfast this morning. She picked up the phone and got Rosie’s answering machine.

  “Hello, I’m not here right now. But if you’re good-looking, single and a multi-millionaire, please leave your name and number and I’ll marry you as soon as I get back.”

  Jo smiled and waited for the beep.

  “Hi Rosie, it’s me—the worst friend in the world. Listen, I’m really sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to bite your head off like that. It’s just that . . . well, you know. Anyway, sorry sorry sorry, and give me a call.”

  She felt better after that. Enough to think about food for the first time since lunch yesterday.

  4

  to school, there was a spring in Jo’s step as she set off back home. The day was hers until 3:30. She could go shopping, do a few laps of the local pool, or just slop around the house with a packet of chocolate biscuits and a weepy movie. No contest.

  Jo quickened her pace toward the Blockbuster video store. She sighed with a degree of contentment as she walked past the market stalls selling spring flowers. Life wasn’t so bad.

  Three months ago, she couldn’t have imagined ever feeling light-hearted again, yet here she was relishing rather than dreading the prospect of a whole day to herself.

  Since that cold February night when Jeff had walked out on her
and the children, Jo had faced an enormous daily struggle to cope. The hardest part of all had been breaking it to Thomas and Sophie that Daddy was no longer going to be living with them.

  It was a week after Jeff had left. Jo had explained his absence in the meantime as a business trip. When she felt she could relay the bad news without crying, she waited for Sophie to go to tea at a friend’s house, then sat Thomas down on his own.

  “Mummy and Daddy haven’t been getting on too well lately, so we’ve decided it’s best if he moves out for a little while,” she said, taking his felt-tip stained hands in hers.

  “Has he gone away forever?” Thomas looked crestfallen.

  “No darling. You’ll still see lots of him, he just won’t be living with us for a while unless we can sort things out. Mummy and Daddy just need a bit of space from each other that’s all, but he still wants to see you.”

  “Why won’t you let him stay here anymore? It’s not fair.” His face looked crumpled.

  The urge to scream, “He’s left us for some little tart” was overwhelming, but Jo fought to control her emotions. Whatever she felt about Jeff’s behavior, she wasn’t going to punish the children for it. Even if it took ten years for the children to make up their own minds that their father had been at fault, then she was prepared to wait.

  By contrast, Sophie was remarkably unfazed by the news. Jo waited until Thomas was in the bath, then sat her daughter on her knee and, during the course of a conversation about whether Goofy was a dog, casually mentioned that Daddy wouldn’t be living at home anymore.

  “Why not?” said Sophie distractedly, her eyes on the television.

  “Oh, it’s just easier for him to live nearer town because of work. You’ll still see a lot of him at weekends and stuff,” said Jo, with all the jollity she could muster.

  And that was it. It had been as simple as that. Quite what the long-term effects would turn out to be was another matter. She would just have to wait and see. Today, as she browsed round the new release section of the video store, the future didn’t seem too bleak after all.