wasn’t coming up so she’s had a whole one,’ Aidan said, gesturing to Jennifer.
‘Have you?’ said Esther and Lucy in unison, slack-jawed.
‘Yup,’ said Jennifer, collapsing into the cushions again. ‘Oh my god this tune is amazing.’
‘Nutter,’ said Esther.
‘Can I have another one?’ asked Jennifer.
‘No you cannot,’ said Aidan, stroking her leg as her friends looked on, not knowing whether to be impressed or worried by how well Jennifer had taken to the drug. ‘I can see I’m going to have my work cut out with you, you little minx.’
And that was it. From that sentence forward, continuing in the vein of giving everything little or no real deliberation, choosing instead to be steered only by instinct and desire, as you do when you’re young, Jennifer and Aidan were an item.
Everything was very, very quiet, apart from the dull, ominous thudding in her head. She was aware that there was stuff going on around her, commotion, chaos even, but she could only very vaguely decipher what any of it was. It all seemed so far away and she wasn’t sure she had the inclination to tune in properly anyway, for instinct told her that if she were to, that suddenly everything would really hurt. So instead she let herself drift further towards a state of mental limbo, refusing to choose the path of either resistance or acceptance. Something terrible had happened. That was a certainty. Her entire body was like a piece of lead, and somehow didn’t feel like her own.
A scream pierced the warm, dense fog she was in. It was a guttural, horrifying sound.
‘Jen,’ yelled the same voice, its tone desperate and distressed.
Karen.
It was Karen.
And then came another voice, one she didn’t recognise, telling Karen to stay back. Not to touch.
She knew she should probably be feeling more than she was. Doing something perhaps, and yet doing anything was a complete and utter impossibility. She couldn’t open her eyes and yet still managed to be dimly aware of flashing lights and at one point of someone manhandling her eyelids and asking her things. She wished they’d all go away and let the cloudy haziness which was shrouding her, envelope her completely. That would be easier.
While Max went to collect the children from his parents, Jennifer raced round the house trying to get it into a vaguely fit state. Friends were coming for lunch and she was running behind. If she was honest she wasn’t feeling a huge amount of joy about the fact they were coming. Lately they’d had a lot of people over and while it was nice to socialise, Saturdays were starting to feel as structured and routined as the rest of the week. What with the cooking, cleaning and never-ending washing up and putting away. Still, in reality, if it was Karen and Pete who were coming over, she’d be looking forward to it a whole lot more. Apart from anything else, Karen wouldn’t care if the house was a tip, or if she served up a bit of old spaghetti for lunch.
Whereas with Judith and Henry Gallagher, she felt obliged to achieve that ‘I’ve thrown this magnificent feast together effortlessly, à la Nigella, wearing an unstained silk dressing gown while simultaneously raising two angelic children in a house liberally festooned with fairy lights’ look, that actually requires tons of effort, perspiration, lots of shouting at the children and some swearing. But then, when it came to Judith and Henry, ‘friends’ was probably rather a loose term and therein lay the problem.
Judith was a work colleague of Max’s who was alright…ish, only she talked about work incessantly, in a way that tended to make Jennifer feel totally excluded from proceedings. With Judith always hogging Max, Jennifer was usually left feeling obliged to entertain Henry, who frankly was hard work. A quiet, uninspiring, humourless bloke, Henry was one of those people who liked to exist under an umbrella of shyness, as if by labelling himself thus, he was excused from having to make any effort on the conversation front. As far as Jennifer was concerned though, once past the age of twenty-one, no matter how bloody ‘shy’ anyone was, she felt they should at least pepper a chat with the odd question, thus making it a two-way thing. As it was, whenever Jennifer was doing her bit by talking to Henry she felt like she was interviewing him.
To add to the already non-enticing prospect of lunch with the Gallaghers, this was the third time in two years she and Max had invited them over for a meal and they’d never returned the invitation. Max insisted it was a good idea for him to ‘keep in’ with Judith, for work reasons. But Jennifer was starting to think it was probably Judith’s turn to spend hundreds of pounds in the supermarket on feeding their faces, and that furthermore, perhaps she didn’t give a shit if they ‘kept in’ with her or not.
Having finally finished tidying downstairs, even going so far as to squirt a bit of polish on the coffee table so at least the room smelled clean, she started on the children’s bedrooms. By the time she’d got to her and Max’s room though she’d lost the will, and was suddenly overwhelmed by the prospect of still having to produce a meal for four adults, three children and a baby. So, after she’d stuffed everything that was on the floor into the laundry basket, she stopped for a second and sunk onto the bed, taking advantage of the unusual silence. For a few minutes she reflected on how easily she’d given up on her mission to seduce Max. As she did, the disappointment from the previous evening washed over her once more, and she found herself wondering idly when and indeed if she should try donning her new underwear again. After all, Max wasn’t psychic, so to be fair to him how could he have known what she’d had in mind? If she’d been really serious about having her wicked way with him she probably should have gone downstairs and shown him what she was wearing because if he’d had the visual stimulation she suspected he definitely would have gone for it. So why hadn’t she done that?
She sighed. Marriage. It was such bloody hard work sometimes. Make an effort was all anybody said and it was an effort. That was the problem. She missed the days when being with each other wasn’t any effort at all. The days when not being together were the ones which felt like the effort.
Jennifer willed herself to get up and continue her attack on the house but it wasn’t happening, mainly because her thoughts had turned to a subject which had been occupying her mind a lot lately. Sex. Or rather, her lack of it. As soon as she allowed the thought in, she felt a lurch of possibility in her nether regions.
The next thing she knew, despite the fact the potatoes desperately needed peeling if lunch had any hope at all of being served for one o’clock, her hand had slid into her knickers. Right, she needed to be quick so who should she think about? Aware that time wasn’t on her side she turned to an old favourite, if you like, a golden oldie, though part of her detested the fact she was still dining out on sex she’d had nearly twenty years ago. However, when it came to fantasy, Aidan was still guaranteed to get her going. And fast.
Once again Jennifer returned to a hot, airless room, which had a bed with a squeaky mattress and a ceiling fan, and replayed the best sex she’d ever had in her entire life. Images of brown limbs entwined and his strong hard body pressing into hers, manoeuvring her into positions she hadn’t even known existed, swam into her head. An enjoyable three minutes later, and her very old flame was just on the brink of giving her an almighty orgasm when she became dimly aware of the key turning in the door downstairs. She couldn’t believe it…
‘We’re back,’ called Max up the stairs.
‘Muuuuummy,’ two little voices yelled in unison, feet charging up the stairs.
‘Shit,’ gasped Jennifer, withdrawing her hand, and springing into an upright position, feeling utterly frustrated. Thirty seconds more and she’d definitely have been there. ‘Hello-ooo,’ she