The Other Woman(32)

The DVD player had illuminated 12:24 the last time I looked, but God knows what time it was when Adam fell on my head in a clumsy attempt to get his shoes off.

‘Jesus Christ,’ he said, in answer to my yelp. ‘What are you doing there?’

I sat up, bleary-eyed, on the sofa, my neck knotted and tight. ‘Waiting for you, like a good wifey,’ I whispered, still trying to get my bearings.

He was shoeless and standing in front of me, swaying ever so slightly. ‘Ah, that’s so sweet,’ he managed. ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

‘It’s not so much about what you deserve, as about what I need,’ I said, half laughing, pulling him towards me by his belt. ‘It’s been such a long time.’ His trouser zip was in line with my face, and I reached for it.

‘We can’t,’ he mumbled, half-heartedly. ‘She might come in.’

I shrugged my shoulders and carried on.

‘Ssh, no, Em. Seriously, we can’t.’ He was giggling now and I knew I was going to get my own way because I knew he wanted me to.

‘It’s been almost a week,’ I whispered, my hands still busy. ‘How much longer are we expected to wait?’

He suddenly held my fumbling hands still. ‘Just a little longer. Till she’s back on her feet properly.’

‘How much longer?’ I went on, brushing his hand aside. ‘I need a date, something I can work towards, to know when we’ll finally get our flat back.’

‘I know it’s hard, Em, but just give it a few more days.’

‘So, by Sunday?’ I pushed.

He hesitated.

‘Promise me Sunday, or I’m going to carry on.’

‘That puts me in a lose–lose situation.’ He laughed.

I took him in my hand and felt his whole body tense.

‘Christ,’ he breathed.

‘What’s it going to be?’ I teased. ‘Say Sunday and I’ll stop.’

I picked up the pace.

‘Jesus, Em.’

‘Sunday and stop, or Sunday and keep going?’ He was right – he couldn’t win.

He moaned, and I knew there was no way he was going to ask me to stop now. ‘Just keep going,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t stop.’

That’s what I thought. The dynamics in this three-way relationship needed to shift, and darling Pammie needed to know that it was me and Adam against the world, together as equals, as the couple we were, not the two separate entities that she’d confused us for, in her warped, twisted mind.

I could never have imagined that seeing her angelic son in my mouth would do the trick.





15

We didn’t hear anything from Adam’s mum for three weeks after she’d walked in on us. The shock of seeing us in such a compromising position had, apparently, left her shell-shocked and emotionally scarred.

‘No mother should ever have to see that,’ she’d dramatically confessed to James, who told us when he popped by to talk about the arrangements for our impending wedding. There’d been a sudden flux of activity as Adam had found a beautiful hotel in Tunbridge Wells that had a chapel attached, and with only one Saturday free this side of summer, we’d gone ahead and booked it. Now, faced with only a couple of months to organize everything, the panic was setting in and things were having to get sorted on the tout de suite, though I imagined the stag arrangements would get more airtime between James and Adam.

‘I don’t want to discuss this,’ Adam had snapped, as the three of us stood in the kitchen, listening to James recount his mother’s overwrought outburst. I made to go to him, but he turned away and huffed off towards the bedroom, leaving James and me in his wake.

We both pulled faces and stifled a giggle. A dimple dented his left cheek. ‘I feel bad for laughing, but if I don’t, I’m going to cry,’ I said.

James peered at me over the top of his coffee mug, his eyes smiling. ‘It could have been worse.’

I looked at him as if he was mad. ‘Er, how exactly?’

‘Well, I don’t know,’ he mumbled. ‘But I’m sure there’s someone out there who’s been in a worse predicament.’

‘Oh, and that’s supposed to make me feel better, is it?’ I laughed.

He put a finger to his lips. ‘Ssh, don’t let him hear us laughing. He’ll only get mad.’

‘He’s mad enough already,’ I said quietly. ‘He’s been foul ever since it happened. He blames me for doing it in the first place.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me?’

I shook my head.

‘Well, maybe he needs to be reminded that it takes two to tango?’ He raised his eyebrows.

I was aware that we were talking in hushed voices, and didn’t want Adam to think we were talking about him, even though we were.

‘So . . .’ I said loudly. ‘Another coffee?’ I couldn’t think of anything else to say. He held up his half-full mug and shook his head. I made myself another, banging about in the kitchen as I did so.

‘Any ideas on what we can do about your mother?’ I asked, aware that I might be crossing a line. I screwed up my face as I waited for his response.

‘She’ll get over it,’ he said softly.