Page 8

8

THREE WEEKS BEFORE THAT THURSDAY

Marina

Marina had met Xavier ten days after moving into Nana Sylvia’s house.

The house was wonderful, but this particular day had not begun promisingly.

They were in the back garden on a blanket spread out on the freshly mown lawn. Marina had filled one of Nana Sylvia’s flowered teapots with apple juice, and she and Archie had put out plates of cookies and cut-up fruit pieces while Lucy Rose carefully arranged what seemed like every single toy they owned into a circle to join their tea party. As usual, the construction next door at the Andersons’ was making a racket, but they were doing their best to have fun and ignore it.

Marina poured juice into Archie’s cup and turned her attention to Lucy Rose, who was holding out a plastic ice cream tub.

“Snails don’t eat cookies,” said Archie disdainfully.

“Don’t you think that Prince William would prefer some lettuce?” Marina asked.

Lucy Rose wrinkled up her nose. “Both,” she said.

Marina passed her a plate with a cookie and a lettuce leaf. Lucy Rose shoved the whole cookie into her mouth, and then dangled the lettuce over the tub. “Yum yummy,” she said, dropping crumbs from her lips.

“Well, doesn’t this look like fun,” said a familiar voice. Marina jumped to her feet, but not before Archie had run across the lawn to his father, who had come through the side gate.

“Daddy!” Lucy Rose put down her tub and ran to Jake too. He ruffled Archie’s hair and picked up Lucy Rose for a hug.

“Haven’t you grown?” he said to both of them. Marina lifted Ewan onto her hip and approached her ex-husband warily.

“Long time no see,” she said.

Jake rolled his eyes as he always did when he thought that Marina was nagging him. “I’m here now. Anyway, you’re doing just fine, it seems.” He looked pointedly at the large detached Edwardian house. It had six bedrooms, a view of the Thames, and a turret.

“We have a place to live,” she said. “Thanks to Nana Sylvia.”

“Poor Nana Sylvia. Still, at least she went out in style.” Jake put down Lucy Rose and held out his arms for Ewan. “How are you doing, little buddy?”

Ewan shrank back and clung to Marina’s neck. She held him tighter; he was so young, Jake probably seemed like a stranger to him.

“Ah, this one is still attached by an umbilical cord,” Jake said. “Mummy’s boy, eh? You’ll have to grow out of that.” He chucked Ewan under the chin and Ewan buried his head in Marina’s shoulder. “Not like my big boy Archie. He’s a chip off the old block. Isn’t that right, tough guy?” He tousled Archie’s hair. Archie beamed under his attention. It broke Marina’s heart.

“He’s five,” said Marina. “Ewan’s one. It’s a little soon to be enforcing gender stereotypes.”

Jake laughed. “Someone’s been feeding you woke nonsense, I see.”

“Ewan still eats from Mummy’s boobies,” said Lucy Rose, who’d been listening.

“Not surprised, princess. Not surprised at all. So. Who wants to show me around the house?”

The two older children volunteered loudly. They each took one of his hands and led him to the back door, chattering the whole time.

Marina followed more slowly. She had to admit it: Jake could be great with the children. He was always the one who proposed rowdy games and who came up with fun ideas. Her nephews adored him, and so did his own brothers’ kids, who were older.

It was one of the things that had charmed her so much when they’d met. She knew he’d make a great dad. And he was a great dad.

Well, he was a fun dad, at least. When he felt like being a fun dad. When he chose to be available for his children. He hadn’t exactly changed many diapers, or done many bottle runs in the middle of the night, or ever taken any of the children to the dentist.

I shouldn’t resent him , she told herself silently. He’s their father. Our children aren’t being disloyal to me by loving him and being happy to see him .

But she still felt jealous as she listened to Lucy Rose showing Jake her favorite toy flamingo, and Archie telling him about his new school.

Jake didn’t have to deal with the tantrums and the projectile vomiting; he didn’t suffer with bitten nipples and broken sleep. He got pure love from his children, even when they hadn’t seen him in weeks.

Except from Ewan. She kissed his sticky cheek. “Never grow out of being a Mummy’s boy,” she whispered to him, even though she knew that he would. Even though she knew that her wish to keep him close would make him as weak as Jake said she was.

“Did I see cookies outside in the garden?” said Jake loudly, and Archie and Lucy Rose pulled him back outside to their picnic. “Love a cup of tea if you’ve got one going,” he said to Marina as he passed her.

She made his tea just as he liked it. Personally, after the shock of him turning up out of the blue, with all of the associated emotions of their failed marriage and divorce, she could do with something stronger, like something from Nana Sylvia’s extensive wine cellar.

But that would have to wait until the children were safely in bed.

When she brought him his tea, he was relaxing in one of the chairs on the patio while Archie and Lucy Rose ferried him cookies from their abandoned picnic. He took the mug without thanking her.

“This is quite a place,” he said, nodding at the house. “Shame about the noise from next door. What are they building, the Taj Mahal?”

“You get used to it after a while,” Marina lied, sitting down across from him with Ewan on her lap.

She’d gone over to the Andersons’ yesterday carrying Ewan and a bowl of her chocolate mousse, and asked Mrs. Anderson politely if she could speak to her contractors about keeping the noise down. “My little one needs to take naps,” she’d explained.

Mrs. Anderson had stared at her blankly. “Who are you, that woman’s granddaughter?”

“Yes, and I’ve got three children who—”

“I told that woman, and I’ll tell you too: we can do whatever we want on our own damn property.” And she’d closed the door in Marina’s face. Marina and Ewan had eaten the bowl of mousse by themselves. (Mostly Marina.)

Jake slurped his tea. “Imagine if Nana Sylvia had died while we were still married. Half of this place would be mine now.”

“It wouldn’t. The terms of her will said that—”

“I know. Isn’t it convenient for you that your grandmother left you this mansion on the condition that you got divorced!”

“How did you know that?”

He tapped the side of his nose. “I have my sources,” he said, which Marina knew meant, I’ve talked with your mom . “I can see why you were so quick to call a divorce lawyer.”

She checked that the children were busy and out of earshot.

“I called a divorce lawyer because you wanted to leave me for your girlfriend,” she said.

“Hm. Well, like I say, it’s convenient.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankles, as if he were lord of the manor. “There’s an argument to be made that actually I’m entitled to half of this place anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you didn’t buy our last house. You weren’t even working when we took out the mortgage. I was the one who funded everything. Bought the furniture, paid for all the redecorating. All out of my own pocket. And then when we got divorced, your lawyer said that half the house was yours. How’d that happen?”

“My name was on the deed, Jake, the same as yours.”

“Because I’m a nice guy and put it there.”

“No, because that was the arrangement we had. You worked and I gave up my job, which I loved, to have the kids. You brought in the money, but I took care of everything else. It was an equal arrangement.”

“Doesn’t seem so equal to me. Seems like you’re out here having tea parties and playing dress-up while I’m working every hour God sends. And then when I got home, you were still on my back 24/7 to do things around the house. I had to go to work just for some peace and quiet!”

She didn’t reply to this, because how could she? They’d had this discussion so many times already, when she tried to explain to him that raising children wasn’t as easy as it looked, and how sometimes she missed her job so keenly she couldn’t breathe. When she tried to plead with him to give Archie and Lucy Rose their bedtime baths so she could sit down for the first time since six a.m. Once, she’d dared to suggest that since the next day was Mother’s Day, she’d love to sleep in until eight, so maybe he could come home sooner than usual from the post-soccer bar session the night before.

It never worked. It just provoked more arguments. It made him call her a nag, and it made her feel ungrateful, pathetic, needy, unreasonable. It made him explain to her that it was called Mother’s Day because it was for mothers , that it wouldn’t even be a special day unless she had children who needed her, and the soccer games were the one time a week he was allowed to go out and have some fun because the rest of the time he had to pay for the roof over their heads.

And how could she argue with that? He did work hard. She did love her children.

She just wanted a little bit of extra sleep, that’s all.

Of course, the revelation that Jake had been having an affair with Freya at work did put a new spin on all of this. Along with the fact that he’d mismanaged the money he was supposed to be using to support his family.

But...what was the point of bringing all of this up on a sunny day when the children were so happy to see their father?

“The financial consent order that you signed when we got divorced means that you’re not entitled to anything that I own now,” she said, sticking to legal facts that couldn’t be argued with. “Just like I’m not entitled to anything that you own. Although your children are.”

He held up his hands. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I knew you’d be nagging me as soon as I showed my face here. Times are tight for me, you know that, especially with another little one on the way. Not all of us have dead rich grandmas.”

“Thanks for the sympathy.”

“She never liked me.”

She decided to change the subject. “The children are really happy to see you today. I appreciate you coming here to see them.”

He smiled. Her tactics were working. “That’s why I’m here. I’ve missed them. And Freya and I have moved into a bigger apartment. So they can come stay with us on a weekend.”

The way he casually mentioned his girlfriend stung her. And she wasn’t certain how she felt about her children spending time with the new woman in their father’s life. Marina didn’t know her, after all, and while she tried to resist falling into the easy stereotype of thinking of Freya as a conniving husband-stealer, the truth was that Freya had in fact stolen her husband.

But Archie and Lucy Rose missed their dad. And Ewan had to get to know him.

“That would be nice,” she said.

“Kids!” called Jake. Archie and Lucy Rose looked up from what they were doing in the corner of the garden and scampered over. Lucy Rose was carrying her plastic ice cream tub.

“How’d you like to come for a sleepover with me in my new apartment? We can make popcorn and have a movie night.”

“Yeah!” said Archie, matching his father’s hearty tone.

“Big green booger movie,” said Lucy Rose.

“I think she means Shrek ,” explained Marina.

“What’ve you got in that box?” asked Jake. Lucy Rose showed him.

“It’s her pet,” said Archie. “She takes him everywhere now.”

“You have a snail for a pet? What, won’t your mummy get you a puppy? You’ve got the space now.”

“I love Prince William,” said Lucy Rose loyally.

“Not sure Freya will take to having a snail in her house. So slimy.”

“You can leave Prince William with me while you visit your father,” Marina said. “I’ll look after him and make sure he gets plenty of lettuce. When do you want to have the children, Jake?”

“Now. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

Marina wondered if Freya knew about this. However, it wasn’t her problem.

“Why don’t you start with holding the baby?” she said, and handed a sleepy Ewan over to his father. Then she went to pack all of the children’s clothes.

When she returned, Jake looked up and asked, “What will you do all weekend when I’ve got the rugrats?” Marina was so startled that he’d asked her an actual question about herself that she answered honestly.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. Maybe I’ll read a book and do some gardening?”

Jake snorted.

“I don’t know what happened to you, Marina. You used to be such a fun girl. So easygoing and carefree. You’ve changed so much. Freya reminds me of the way you used to be, actually. It was one of the things that made me notice her.”

Ewan’s nappy bag was heavy, full of wipes and bottles and cans of follow-on milk. If she “accidentally” swung it at Jake’s crotch, she could hit him hard enough to hurt, maybe hard enough so that he couldn’t fuck his new girlfriend, but not so hard that he dropped the baby.

Instead, she smiled and said, “Have a great weekend!”

* * *

At first, she enjoyed the relative silence. Then she found herself wandering the rooms of Nana Sylvia’s house. She realized she felt lonely. She missed her children. But also, without the distraction of her children, she had time to feel that she missed adult company.

She made herself a cup of tea and scrolled social media. On WhatsApp, the concerned messages that had appeared soon after her split with Jake had melted away. She hadn’t had so much as a how u doing hun? for weeks now. She’d had to mute or leave the group chats, which were all about arranging play dates in a neighborhood where she no longer lived. And she knew this was her own fault—she felt she was constantly being a downer, so it was better for everyone if she disappeared. Of course, she felt guilty about that, too, because it meant that Archie and Lucy Rose weren’t seeing their friends anymore.

She saw that her PTA friend Nancy had posted a photo of cocktails, tagged: #OutOut #GirlsNightOut #DaddiesNightIn #BabyMummies #MummiesGroup #Cosmos #Blessed. Several of her other PTA friends were tagged on it, but not her.

She went over to WhatsApp to see if they’d posted about the night out on the group chat, if maybe she’d been invited but she didn’t see it. All she could find was advice about school uniforms.

They’d all moved on without her, as if she’d never existed. Or maybe she was the one who’d moved on, out of their world where husbands could be trusted, where children were always happy, where friends were fun, where their lives were safe.

Before she could think better of it, she posted a photograph of the front of Nana Sylvia’s big, imposing, beautiful, expensive house on her own Instagram. The turret, the wisteria, the mature gardens, the stained-glass window over the freshly painted front door. She gave it a bright filter and wrote:

Our new home! I have so many happy memories of this house and I’m looking forward to making many more memories here.

She did not add #blessed. But she did post it, for all of her former friends to see.

Then she put on some lip gloss, slightly less dirty sneakers, and her denim jacket that only had a little bit of baby spit on it and walked into Richmond to treat herself to a coffee.

Afterwards she explored the stores, which, like the bustling café with its oat milk matchas, clearly catered to the upmarket crowd. There was a florist, a gluten-free bakery, a thrift store stuffed to the gills with discarded designer wear and wedding hats, a glossy hairdresser’s next to a glossier barber shop, and two interior design stores, one specifically for kitchens and one for, presumably, everything else.

Marina couldn’t afford to buy anything in any of the stores, not even the thrift store. Shortly before she moved into Nana Sylvia’s house, the lawyer had informed her that the estate contained very little cold hard cash. She could raise some money by selling her grandmother’s antiques, but she was reluctant to do that.

All the customers and the people working at the registers seemed so well-groomed and well-heeled. Everyone had glossy hair, makeup so expensive that it could afford to look subtle, shoes that weren’t worn down at heel. Nana Sylvia could swan around the stores here looking outlandish and not caring what anyone thought, but Marina was less confident of her own brashness, and definitely less confident of her leggings with their stretched-out knees.

She stood outside the kitchen store, ostensibly looking at a display of hand-glazed tiles but actually examining her own reflection in the window. Her hair needed a trim and her last manicure had been performed by Lucy Rose and far too much purple sparkly nail polish.

And then she remembered younger Marina, who was just eighteen when she picked up and moved to Paris to train in a professional kitchen, knowing no one and hardly speaking the language. When had she lost her courage?

So here she was in the kitchen store, looking at granite and planning out her dream home kitchen makeover. Nana Sylvia’s was a little dated, and let’s face it, she’d eaten most of her meals out. Marina would change the tiles, the layout, with an eye for practicality and style combined. A bigger sink, a better stovetop, a walk-in pantry, everything hanging in reach. And wouldn’t it be fun to start something for herself—cooking videos on TikTok, or a home catering business? How did you even begin?

“Which one are you going for?” asked a voice. Marina jumped in surprise.

The man who had spoken to her was a few paces away next to the polished concrete worktops. He was fit, probably in his forties, with bright blue eyes and a full head of prematurely gray hair swept back from his face. He was very good looking. What people might call a “silver fox.”

“Oh,” replied Marina, flustered. “I’m just browsing today.”

“Don’t worry,” said the man. “I don’t work here. I’m not going to try to sell you anything. Do you like to cook?”

“Actually, I’m a chef,” said Marina. This felt good to say, even though it wasn’t strictly true anymore.

“So you know what you’re doing.” He gazed around him. “Personally, I’m lost. I didn’t know that refurbishing a kitchen would involve so many choices. You’re probably used to it.”

“Not really. It’s taking me ages to decide which granite I like best. Sparkles or no sparkles?”

“You are definitely a sparkler,” said the man, and Marina realized that he was flirting with her. This was unexpected.

“Maybe on a good day,” she said. “Are you planning a remodel?”

“Yes, I’m finding it overwhelming, though. This is very much the sort of thing my wife would have done.” He looked sad. “I lost her two years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. You have to carry on, don’t you. Though I didn’t expect to have to make decisions about color schemes. What about you? Is your husband any good at this sort of thing?”

“We’re divorced. So the choices are all mine.”

“Well. That must be liberating.”

“I guess it is,” she said. They smiled at each other.

“Listen,” he said, abruptly, as if just now making a decision, “would you mind helping me out? You know what it’s like trying to find a contractor—the good ones have a waiting list longer than your arm. And I can’t book one until I’ve ordered everything. I basically have to decide everything today.”

“Oh. Well, that’s flattering, but wouldn’t it be better to ask someone who works here?” She glanced around for a store assistant.

“You know what it’s like in these places. They want to upsell you on everything. I don’t mind paying for quality, but I’d rather have something I like and that’s going to work.”

She hesitated, looking down at his left hand, where there was no ring, then checking her watch.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to assume you had the time. I’m sure you’ve got someplace better to be.”

It was that “sorry” that decided her. Any man who could say that word so easily and casually couldn’t possibly be bad, could he?

She couldn’t go on mistrusting all men just because Jake had let her down. And this man probably did just want advice. There would be worse ways of spending a free day than in the company of an attractive single man who respected her opinion.

“Sure,” she said. “Actually, I think that would be fun.”

His face broke into a bright smile. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m Xavier, by the way.”

“Marina.” They shook hands. His touch was warm and a little exciting. “Now, Xavier, for the important question.”

“What’s my budget? Don’t worry about that.”

She grinned. “No. The important question is: are you a sparkler too?”

* * *

Four hours later, after a rather nice lunch courtesy of Xavier, Marina walked back to her house practically on air.

It could be the two midday gin and tonics putting the spring in her step, but mostly it was Xavier. He wasn’t only attractive. He was charming, respectful, funny, and—if the size of the order he’d placed at the kitchen shop was anything to go by—very well-off. He ran his own wealth management consultancy—Marina didn’t pretend to know what that meant, but he’d hinted breezily at old family money too. He didn’t have any children, but he said he adored other people’s and listened attentively when she talked about her three.

And at the end of lunch, he’d asked for her number and said, “Would it be all right if I called and invited you out to dinner with me next week?”

“Oh,” she’d said, a little flustered, “it depends on whether I can find a babysitter.”

“How long are your children staying with their father?”

“Until Sunday evening.”

“Lunch again tomorrow? And a walk along the river?”

She gave him her number and her address. He’d kissed her goodbye on the cheek and said, “Thank you. I haven’t met a woman I’ve liked so much for a very long time.”

Things were definitely looking up.

* * *

In between that lunch and their second date an enormous bouquet of flowers arrived at her house. Roses, freesias, lilies. Her unrenovated kitchen was filled with scent. The card said, plainly, “X.”

That single letter made her catch her breath. Because it was his initial, but also, it meant a kiss.

She thought about kissing Xavier, and then she thought about it all day. What would it feel like to kiss a man who wasn’t Jake? Did she even remember how to? What would Xavier smell like close up? What would his hands feel like on her waist? Would he be a gentleman, or would he be masterful and passionate? Maybe even both?

She was turned on. She felt like she was living in a romance novel. Here she was, a divorced mother of three, acting boy crazy.

It was wonderful.

She took a photograph of the bouquet and posted it on Instagram. # SecretAdmirer #MysteriousGentleman #FuckYouPTAMumsAndYourCosmos

(She deleted the last hashtag.)

She sent him a message: Thank you for the flowers!

You’re worth it, he replied. I can’t wait until tomorrow. X

Again, that initial with its double meaning. She touched it with her fingertip.

She considered playing it cool, but then she typed, Me neither.

For the first time in a long time, Marina fretted about what to wear. All her clothes were practical, plain, and more often than not, spotted with finger paint. The morning before her second date with Xavier, she tried on everything halfway decent she owned and thought wistfully about the little slip dresses she used to wear, back when she had a flat stomach and perky boobs. Now she looked terrible in everything.

Then again, she’d met Xavier when she was wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweater, and it hadn’t seemed to put him off.

But she couldn’t wear that again; the yoga pants had a little hole in the crotch. And she didn’t even own any good underwear. She still wore the maternity bras that she’d bought for breastfeeding Archie.

Would she need good underwear?

She shivered with lust. She had it bad, after one lunch and a bunch of flowers.

She dropped the dress she was trying on and thrust her hand into her underwear. Within seconds she was leaning against the bedpost, gasping and a little dizzy with the force of her orgasm.

Well. She hadn’t done that in a very long time. And Jake hadn’t done it for her for even longer.

In the mirror, she looked flushed and happy. Her skin was glowing. She abandoned the dress (it was frumpy anyway) and pulled on her tightest pair of jeans. She found one of Nana Sylvia’s patterned peasant blouses, which was made of pleasingly clingy material.

Then she thought about Xavier taking it off her and she had to take a second break to rub another one out.

* * *

He was a gentleman. He called for her at her house, waiting patiently in the hallway while she made flustered additions to her makeup, and then took her to a little bistro. “It’s a risk taking you here, isn’t it?” he said. “Given what you do for a living?”

“Not at all. It’s a treat to be at a restaurant that doesn’t have a children’s menu.”

He walked her to the table with his hand in the small of her back, which just about drove her insane. After that, she could hardly concentrate on the food anyway.

In the end, she was the one who initiated their first kiss while they were waiting for the dessert menu. They were at a tiny corner table with their knees close together underneath, a fact of which Marina was excitedly, almost unbearably aware. They’d been talking about their dream holidays and discovered that they both had dreamed of visiting Venice but neither had been. “I’d love to ride a gondola with you,” Xavier said, and she couldn’t help herself. She leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips. He was warm and tasted slightly of sea bream. She loved it.

When they finished, he looked surprised but pleased.

“I wanted to get it out of the way,” she explained.

“I can see that you’re a woman who likes to take charge.”

This was so entirely untrue that Marina kissed him again, mostly out of lust but partly in gratitude for him seeing her as a strong person. This kiss was longer, lingering.

“I don’t think I feel like going for a walk,” she said, brushing her fingers through his silver hair.

“No? What would you prefer?”

“I think I want you to come home with me,” she said. And kissed him again.

They skipped dessert.

* * *

Sex! Sex was wonderful! It was the most amazing thing in the world! It was something she had entirely forgotten about except as a way to make children and to celebrate Jake’s birthday! She loved sex! There were so many ways to do it and they were all fabulous!

The only qualm she had was when Xavier saw her bedroom and said, “Wow, this is something else,” and she realized that she was about to have sex in her grandmother’s bed.

But that qualm lasted less than half a second, because Nana Sylvia was a vocal fan of sex and often went into embarrassing detail about her exploits, so she would be pleased that Marina was getting some. Also, the mattress was excellent.

Marina didn’t even care about her awful underwear. She stripped so quickly that Xavier never got a chance to see them.

Afterwards, he lay beside her and smiled. “You’re a firecracker,” he said.

And Marina, damp and languid from orgasms, actually believed him.

* * *

They saw each other every chance they got. Marina wasn’t ready to introduce anyone new to her children, obviously, and Xavier understood, so they had to snatch time when the children were with Jake or her parents. Archie went to school full-time now and Lucy Rose and Ewan went to nursery three mornings a week, and sometimes Xavier arranged to work from home, which meant that they could meet for a quickie (or two).

He lived in a large new-build in Chislehurst. It wasn’t really to her taste, but it was impressive and clearly very expensive, with polished marble floors, enormous windows, and leather furniture. He even had a library, stuffed with books that looked as if they had actually been read. His kitchen was fine as it was, a little cold and impersonal maybe, but all the appliances were bang up-to-date and the Aga was quite lovely. The contractors hadn’t started work on the refurb yet.

Marina and Xavier had sex against the kitchen counter like they were in a movie. Then she cooked him magret de canard au miel and they ate it together, hot on the plate, feeding each other bites.

When they weren’t together, they sent each other sexy messages. Constantly. Marina felt as if she were in heat, as if she were living a romantic dream. Xavier complimented her, gave her little gifts, seemed in awe of her body. He said he hadn’t even wanted to sleep with anyone since his wife died, and then he’d found her.

One time he even cried.

He sent her flowers every other day, so many that she had to unearth vases from the cupboards. The bouquets didn’t get a chance to wilt before another would come to take its place. Her house smelled like a garden.

She felt cherished, desired, sexy, wise, naughty. She caught herself skipping around the house. It seemed like the more sex she had, the more she wanted it, even when Xavier wasn’t around. When the children napped, she masturbated. The housework wasn’t getting done, but she didn’t care.

“I’d forgotten what it was like to be a woman,” she told Xavier.

“Are you kidding?” he said. “You’re not just a woman, you’re a superwoman.”

She didn’t explain any more, because she found she liked how he thought of her. Knowing that he saw her as a superwoman made her feel as if she could be one.

She felt as if she’d been sleepwalking for the past third of her life and now, she was awake. More than awake. She was fizzing, high, delirious, happy.

And then she got the text message.