Monday to Friday Man Taster
Jack, my new Monday to Friday lodger, should be coming home soon.
I confess to the girls I’m nervous. I tell them about the chemistry I’d felt that first night when he viewed No.21. What if I was imagining it?
‘I’m sure you weren’t,’ says Anna, ‘chemistry’s either there or it isn’t.’
‘I probably should have lived with a woman, much simpler,’ I smile, glancing repeatedly at the front door.
‘He probably won’t be back for ages,’ Susie says, urging me to relax.
But I can’t. I find myself hiding a copy of Heat Magazine under The Week.
‘What’s she doing now?’ Anna asks Susie as I toss a random CD into the cupboard. In the run up to Jack’s arrival I have been throwing away or hiding anything that hints to a lonely life before, for example the chicken Kiev for one in my freezer. Soon Anna and Susie are helping me rifle through my music collection. ‘The Best of Carly Simon?’ Anna suggests.
‘Cupboard,’ I say.
‘Enrique Iglesias?’ Anna continues.
‘Cupboard!’ we all shout.
‘I love him though,’ Susie admits.
‘Me too,’ I add.
Next, the three of us are rummaging through my DVD collection and the girls confiscate ‘Terms of Endearment’, ‘Mamma Mia!’ ‘Footloose’ and…
‘Ladies in Lavender?’ Anna sighs, holding up the box. I burst out laughing.
‘Why don’t you suggest a cosy night in with Jack watching it,’ Susie says.
Why didn’t I check the bathroom either? I was so intent on making Jack’s bedroom perfect that I forgot all about the little things. From the mirrored cupboards over the sink we gather boxes of tampax and a box of unopened condoms.
‘Who knows, they might come in handy?’ Anna suggests.
I chuck each item over to Anna, Anna chucks to Susie, and Susie shoves the various embarrassments into a sponge bag. Anna holds up a tube of thrush cream. ‘Oh thank God,’ I say, grabbing it from her. ‘And I don’t think Jack needs to see this first thing in the morning?’ Susie suggests, chucking my bikini line kit into the bag. ‘Not that I need it right now,’ I smile at both of them.
‘Nor me,’ adds Anna.
‘Well I certainly don’t,’ finishes Susie.
Next I show the girls Jack’s room. New life has now been breathed into this space. There are flowers on the dressing table, a jug of water with a glass by his bedside, clean sheets are on his double bed, I washed and ironed the blue-spotted duvet cover and I’ve taken down the Spanish Olive Grove painting, replacing it with an abstract print of New York which I thought was more Jack’s style. I walk over to the curtains and draw them. ‘Why don’t you pop a chocolate on his pillow too,’ suggests Anna.
‘And a ‘Do not disturb’ label on the door handle?’ Susie adds, before saying, ‘I want to live here. When can I move in?’
We hear a taxi pulling up outside No. 21, a gate clanging and the rustle of leaves. In a fury of activity we plant ourselves back on the sofa. I adjust my hair, apply lipstick, cross my legs, then uncross them. Susie grabs a magazine; it’s the television guide, flicks through it.
‘Say something!’ I demand to Anna. ‘Tell a funny joke!’
Anna stares at us. ‘You two are pathetic,’ she states. ‘By the way sweetheart, you’ve got lipstick,’ she gestures to my mouth, ‘on your front tooth.’
The door opens…
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