Irresistible
Olivia stood on the tall, creaking porch, peering down at the peacock-strutting lad before her. There truly wasnt much to himshort of stature, bow-legged, face like a square brick, teeth uneven as a row of picket fences, and yethe was the king of the village boys. Every girl swooned if he so much as waved; all waited for his dance invitation with heart-thumping expectation.
Olivia smirked. Simon was a dreadfully awkward dancer, pathetically sohed stomp like an ox on her feet, bob his head as Auntie Mauds goose might, shoulders jerking in time to the music, ears twitching in sympathy. What on earth did everyone see in him? He always thought so well of himself; a proper king, no less.
Now, Simon, chewing a long blade of grass, squinted up at her, expecting she might dash down the steps, cling to his neck, and hethe lord of leisurewould saunter towards the village hall.
Not a chance!
Liv, well, come on then. Will you? Simon asked in that rough, hopeful way, spat to one side, shuffled, embarrassed and startled she wouldnt rush at once. He saw her grandmothers silvery head at the window and awkwardly bleated out, With me! I mean, Im asking you
Heaven preserve us! Is the boy munching grass? came a shriek from inside, followed by a great clang of buckets and the lament of old Mrs. Anne. Livvy, come back this instant! Rains coming on, youll be soaked like a biscuit. And him” she nodded at Simon hes not setting foot here. Off you go, Simon! Olivia, youre helping me in the garden, with the cucumbers. Waving a mottled hand, she chased off Simon, unfavoured suitor.
Olivia, nose lifted, went inside and slammed the door. Peering out in secret, she watched as Simon sauntered disconsolately down the lane, kicking up dust, legs crossing and uncrossing as if that were the height of sophistication.
Full of swagger, that one, Anne Victoria muttered, bustling behind Olivia. Like father, like sonthink the world of themselves, but it scarcely amounts to a thimbleful. Bug-sized, Livvy, truly.
The girl shrugged and retreated to her room. On her bed, chin in hand, she stared at the timber wall, tracing the odd, swirling knots and mapping the honey, ochre, and chocolate shades thereone was golden in the sun, another almost tangerine, here the gleam of syrup. Beautiful, really. And Simon was handsome too, in a way. But that self-importance was tiresome, just as Gran said!
Simon strolled over to the bandstand veranda where all the village youth had escaped the stuffy village hall. The sunset lay in fat, oily streaks of gold and crimson across the floor planks. Girls dainty feet trod them, followed by dusty boots, and shadows ran up the peeling paint, making everyone seem tall, elongated.
He greeted his pals, leaned beside the steps, lit a cigarette. Whom to dance with? Snap his fingers and any would come running! ANY! But he wanted Olivia. If not for that old bat of a gran, hed have convinced her tonight. Next time, perhaps, hed bring her a spade handle or a bouquetshed melt and let Livvy come along, then!
So, mate, wheres Her Ladyship? No luck? Jim leapt off the paling fence, grinning. Plenty of flowers in this garden, eyes dont know where to settle. Good job we came, eh, Simon?
Sure, Simon ruffled his thick hair, licked his lips, then let himself bob in time with the music, nodding, shoulders rocking. He slouched over to the girls, nudged into their circle, laughing. He was king. Always king. With or without Olivia.
The lads came to the countryside each summer, all knew one another. Olivia was sent for the whole summer, her mother didnt hold with sending her to guides or activity camps, preferring strict family supervision. Simond spend two months, assisting his parentsbattling with the old cottage and wild garden, relentless digging, weeding, harvesting, hauling endless jars of jam and pickled onions back to London. His arms seemed to stretch by the hour under the weight, soon hed look like a gorilla. But at least his body tanned handsomely, muscles growing, impressing the girls at the pool. Hed tarry at the diving platform, flexing and puffing out his chest until everyone belowbusy as antscould marvel at his unearthly beauty. Even Olivia; hed send her a photo.
The plan with the spade handle fell through. Olivia had a family crisis, dashed off suddenly without farewells. Gran Anne drove nosey Simon away in disgust, Sick to the teeth of you, youth!
Soon, all scatteredsome to university, some to flats in town. Life pressed on.
Hed loved Livvy since childhood. One shared sandpit, one battered blue spadeoddly enough, always just one, for Simon lost his, while Olivia tidily packed hers away, dusted sand from her skirt, and walked home. Simond scamper after her, turning up stones with his sandals, telling his fathers jokes. Olivia listened with that benign, slightly distant smile, as if humoring a simpleton. Theyd go to the river together, float out on a giant inflatable mattress. Once, Olivia toppled it and was caught beneath. Simon saved her, of course, then boasted heroic deeds for weeks.
They watched the sunsets, grouped boys and girls into the handsome and the unfortunate, waded through clouds of midges picking wild strawberries and raspberries. Sometimes Simon visited Oliviashed give him cold milk with strawberries, hed lounge, feet up, at the table, declaring hed go to Oxford, become a diplomat, travel the world.
Olivia let it all drift by while she feasted; Anne scowled at the boys brags, finding him unbearably smug.
He never confessed his feelings, always hoping for a grand momentand that shed chase him, but she never did. Now shed vanished altogether.
Years passedfour, perhapsbefore their paths crossed again. Gran Anne bellowed her granddaughters arrival, fretted nothing decent had been prepared, though the table groaned as if Olivia had come from a famine. The garden gate banged, heels clattered on the steps, faces flickered in the windows.
Simon, craning his neck, spied on the next garden. There was Oliviain a swimsuit, ferrying watering cans, helping Gran with the cucumbers. Weary, she sat on the bench, crunching a cucumber, nose in a book. Anne slipped off for milk or bread.
Simon, after snaffling the raspberry canes bare and sprucing himself in the mirror, meandered along the fence. At the far end was an old loose boardhis childhood escape to the neighbours. Simons charming grin falteredthe board was now nailed firm with a shiny new nail, pointy as a bee sting.
Just typical, Gran! he cursed.
Undeterred, Simon walked round to the gate as if it were his own, bearing a punnet of berries.
All right? he whispered, seating himself beside her. She smelt faintly of perfume and sun. His hand pretended carelessness as it brushed her bare shin. Glad youre here. I found raspberries. Eat some, go on! He raised a palm dark with fruit towards her lips.
Liv turned away, leapt up.
Simon, what are you doing?! Raspberries from the wood are quite different! And Im not eating from your hand. Goodness, you! Laughing, she shut her book.
You did before, he said, sheepishly looking up. From here, hills and valleys of her figure were well-lit. Remember? We were about eleven. You ate from my hand, and I from yours. Liv
She laughed louder and skipped up the steps.
Simon, back home with you, please? Im busy, revising for exams.
Liv! He followed, grabbed her shoulders in the hallway, spun her, pressed her against the old coachmans coat on the hook, lunged for a kiss. She squirmed, struck him with the nearest mop, shoved him outside, and slammed the door. Raspberries scattered, Simon ground them into the step, flung aside the bark basket, now stained, and gave the gate a bootthe hinge gave a snap.
That was long ago. Many winters Anne spent alone in the cottage, waiting for Olivias rare visits. The last time she returned was for Anne’s funeralshutters closed, windows draped, doors boarded.
What now, lovewhatll we do with the place? Olivias mother murmured, swiping at tears into Olivias shoulder.
Well keep it. Ill come back. We wont sell, Olivia declared, holding her weeping mother, but she too succumbed to tears.
A scruffy mongrel, squat and lordly, now wandered the neighbouring plot. Simon hadnt returned in three years; he was rumoured to be abroad for work, his parents too busy.
Many years later, a massive black Land Rover rolled up at Simon’s old house. The window wound down; two heads popped out. Simonsslicked and shining from hair gel, summoning midges with its scentglanced about, then ducked inside.
The second, a womans, gathered in a ponytail, fresh no-makeup face, scattered freckles, button nose, beamed.
Simon! How marvellous! The air! she trilled. Youve done well bringing us, love! Michael, Sophiewake up, were here!
Seatbelts clicked, childrens voices mumbled. Sophies rang above the rest.
Oh, honestly, none of you get it! the woman cried, springing from the car. Her cotton sundress suited hershe lacked only a straw hat and posey. Oh, looka bee! Just ignore it; what darling little legssuch a fluffy darling!
Irene, thats enough. I don’t want to hear it. Fluffy bee indeed Simon wrinkled his nose, brushing a blade of grass off his loafers. Yes, my roots, where I became a man, he added grandly.
Drinking and smoking then? You hardly lacked for that in Croydon, by your friends tales. Irene giggled. No matter, youre still my hero! Sophie, Michael, help me unpackwell have a grand late breakfast on the veranda, or if not, on a rug in the grass! Simon, will you help?
Simon shook his head.
I need a walk, not been here in ages. Keys for the house, shed, summerhouse, he thrust the clanking rings into Irenes hands, Michael, help your mum.
Dont want to, Dad. Cant we just go home? the boy whined, but Simon had attached the lead to a squashed-faced pug and wandered away, nostrils flaring in nostalgia.
Irene sighed, going to air the house. Shed only been here once before the kidsa peppermint-sweet-brier memory of swimming, sauna, barbecue. Now, Simons parents gone, the house needed sorting. He planned to sell, so tomorrow paperwork awaited. Today, a picnicthough, in truth, Irene did all the work, Simon off with his thoughts.
Sophie, Michaellook, raspberries! Irene called. She fumbled the keys, cursingshed forgotten which fit which, the lock clung fiercely. Botheration! she stamped her foot, glancing for her husband. But he was admiring himself in another car window, peeking into the neighbours overgrown domain. Simon! This wretched keycome here!
With a huff, Simon returned. I said, this for the door! Isnt that obvious? Im perfectly clear, everyone but you understands me.
Sorry, Simon. Im flustered, its hot
Just sort things out quickly, Ill be off. My homeland, after all
She nodded, and he strode off, proud of his expensive, linenhideously crumpled, but costlysuit, luxury car, showy watch.
Well, look whos heremighty Simon the Flyswatter! croaked old Mrs. Gillian from over the fence, dressed for a royal wedding! Shed known Simon as a boy, forever swinging an electric fly-killer bought by the local station. The nickname stuck.
Simon forced a grin, glancing to be sure Irene hadnt heard.
Hello, Auntie Gillian. Oh, its all rotIll be selling this dump. Full of rot! What about you, still ticking along? He slipped a fallen hair back in place, unbuttoned his shirt to flash a thick gold chain and cross.
What a mighty thing on your neck! cackled Gillian, and Simon basked, for everything about him was mightyhis car, his wife, his job. But why the cross, dear? Never was godly! she barked, spat and vanished. And whats that beast on leads?
Simon shambled along, hearing Irene already chatting with someone.
Olivia? Lovely to meet you! Im Irene. We just arrived, its overwhelming! Staying the night, then off again. You live here? Oh, how nice! Simons with me, he needed a walk. Your puppys adorable! Spaniel, is it? Olivia, pop over for tea! Ill just
Standing at the chicken wire, Olivia, clearly grown, a touch plumper, in a short summer dress, nodded, about to retreat, but, seeing Irenes distress at the jungle of weeds, called,
Actuallyits best if you come to us! Youre exhausted, kids need feeding. Your grass is knee-highyou dont want ticks. Ive just made lunch, then we can tackle your house after.
Irene protested, then gave in. Her heart ached all morningshed almost cancelled the trip, but Simon had insisted.
Weve sandwiches, salad, all from the coolbox in Simons car, dont worry! Irene nattered, carrying boxes next door. Mind if I sit a sec? Bit dizzy
Livvy nodded, setting out a chair in the shade, offering cool lemonade.
Are you feeling all right? You look pale. My husbands a doctor, want me to call him? Jacob! Jake, come here, please! Hes doing the barbecueinsisted, heat or no! Olivia kept glancing worriedly at Irene and her golden freckles. Sit tight, Ill bring more to drink. Michael, SophieIm Mrs. Olivia Green, come over, weve got swings out back, youll love them!
Jacob came, checking Irenes pulse.
Bit off, is it?
Often, Irene nodded. Olivia returned, concern flitting over her face.
Got medication with you? Weve some if notwe run the local first aid post, Jacob explained.
Yes, in my bagleft it on the porch. Dont know whats wrong, just since morning
Olivia, mind fetching it? My wife will bring it in
Wheres Simon? Olivia asked.
Ohout walking. Hes taken Sherlockneeds the exercise, said Irene. Sherlock needs a proper outing, you know.
Funny name for a pet, Jacob smiled. Make yourself comfortable, Ill get a garden chair. Oh, my kebabs!
The scent of barbecued lamb with herbs floated through the garden.
Irene relaxed, smiling, tilting her head back, closing her eyes. To sit out in the English summer, listening to the birds among moss-mottled apple trees, spaniel barking with the children, wind chimes tinkling at the windowlike bits of chandelier in the breezegave the garden a secret, spellbinding magic all its own.
Olivia? came the gravelly, affectedly robust voice from the garden gate. Simon affected this voice, believing it irresistibly masculineroguish as a sea captains cough. Well, well!
Livvy, clutching Irenes designer baggold thread spelling a name on the frontturned. Up the flagstone path strode Simon, but his lead was taut on an animal with spindly legs.
Good heavens! Olivia burst out laughing, Sherlock, is it? Blimey, Simon!
At the end of the lead, not a dog, but a bandy-legged piglet waddled, grey with black stripy bits, channeling a cartoon watermelon. Its little hooves struggled with the weight as it snuffled for barbecue.
Youve no idea! Simon grinned, Dogs are passe. Weve got an iguana and a tarantula at home too. Hello, by the way.
Hello. Been years Olivia nodded. He puffed out his chest. Your wife and children are at ours. Irenes not well, shes resting. Didnt expect you to visit.
And youve rebuilt, have you? Living here now? Simon looked at the new brick house where the old wood cottage stood.
We try. Anyway, time for lunch. Take Irenes bag, come along. She needs her medicine.
Olivia was about to dart down the steps, but Sherlock piglet tangled her feet in the lead. Simon bent, as if to untangle her, letting his hand accidentally brush her ankle. She smelt of wild roses, berries, womanhoodmore vibe than scent, a kind of energy Simon would not let slip.
Liv, I missed you He straightened, tugged the piglet, who grunted. Did you?
She rolled her eyes, waved at her husband by the fence.
Coming, Jake! Its Simon, the one I told you about!she called. Come already! She tossed at Simon, running off.
He grinned. Olivia missed himof course!
Lunch was in a vine-wreathed gazebo where Liv and Simon had once dug in the sandpit as kids. Now the concrete slab supported wrought-iron poles holding a grape-draped dome, copper lamps swinging, catching sunlight.
Michael and Sophie were quiet, eating. Jacob brought kebabs, Olivia served salad, Irene sliced bread and poured cool, frothy ginger beer.
So whats the plan for the place? Jacob asked. Demolish and rebuild?
Not likely! Simon smirked, mopped his fingers, winked at Olivia, asked for more salad. Whats the point? Place is a proper hole, and neighbours nick everythingour mower, our tools, even broke in twice. Maybe your lot? Built that mansion, eh? Simon jabbed, bleary with whiskey.
Simon Irene blushed.
I built this myself, with mates. And I vouch for every one, Jacob replied, taking Olivias hand.
On the lawn, Sherlock piglet now gamboled happily with Olivias sheepdog, yelping and rolling like a true puppy.
No, really
If youre not fussed, sell us the plot. Were looking to expand. Name your price, Jacob offered under the table, feeling Irenes sharp kick.
To you? Simon squinted theatrically. Two hundred grand. Thats it.
He stared Olivia down, smirking. See! Your Jacobs never even held that sort of money! Look at himtattered shorts, faded shirt, as plain as plywood. Oh, Liv, what have you done..? You only rushed off with him because I disappeared, Ill wager He stroked his growing belly, picked up a guitar, strummed and sang at Olivia: Pour me another, my lovely, pour the lastlet me sing one for you! He basked in his own voice, eyes closed, Olivia barely contained her laughter. Irene huffed.
Id say, lets wrap up, Jacob declared, popping the afternoons romance. Liv, Ill get the kettle for teakids, go play, well have proper tea brewed on the camp stove, proper stuff!
He passed the children sweets and shooed them off.
Well do the dishes. Liv, Ill clear up” offered Irene.
Of course. Simon, lend a hand with the kitchen, will you? You sing so well.
No, let him be, Irene murmured, then whispered so only Olivia could hear, Hell break the lot, now hes tipsy, I know him
The house kitchen was big and bright, with scalloped, pale green cabinets and lacey curtains at the windows.
Into the dishwasherthen Ill make us coffee. Ireneis it all right if I call you Iri? Id have named my daughter that if Id had one. Iri, Irie, its so pretty.
Call me anything, Irene waved a hand. But were such a bother, crashing yours! Youve your own life, and now Liv, sit down, take a rest.
Olivia blushed, protectively cradling her belly.
Its our sixth go. If it fails againI cant, I just cant! she wept. Shed told no one but Jacob and her doctor. But Irene, with her freckles and gentle air, was comfort itself
Liv, sweet! Irene sat, arms round her. Itll be all right! Youve got a fortress behind you, Jakes a solid bloke. They both laughed, as Olivia was amply endowed, enough for a fortress. So solid! Dont dwell on the worst. Youre careful, youre under care. Everything will be FINE! Irenes heat and conviction drew a smile from Olivia. It seemed a shamethey wouldnt be neighbours after all
Jacob brought in a steaming kettle, which he plonked on an ancient tray, the aroma homey and comforting. Irene carried in Livs cake and her own madeleines. Simon attempted to pat Jakes backjolly good, cheer up the gentrybut toppled off the stool. Sherlock piglet nuzzled his face instantly.
Ugh, away with you, pig! Scram! Or youll be bacon! He shoved, trapping Sherlocks tiny hoof, the piglet squealed. Shouldve got a ferretmore credible.
Ferrets reek, terribly so, Jacob fetched Simon up, dusting him off. Come now, a strong cup of tea. He handed Simon a mug.
Jacob couldnt stand awkward moments, nor anyone who fell, fluffed a note, or embarrassed themselves. He always wanted to help, to save face, to sing along. Olivia teased him sometimes, then thanked her stars shed found such a good, gentle man.
Simon eyed Olivia from under his brow, stuffing cake and sipping tea. Any moment now, shed throw herself at himthey all did, work or social. Some he permitted, basking in their admiration, others he coldly dismissed. It felt wonderful somehow, to know he could break hearts. Good job Irene didnt realise how far his adventures went. Silly goose.
He fell silent, then, with sudden inspiration, suggested a trip to the river.
Theres a river? Can we swim and take the boat? the children cried. Daddy, why didnt you bring the inflatable?
Next time. Well, shall we? Simon stood, catching his reflection in the shining kettlesplendid.
Better in the evening, were tired, and Irene needs to lie down. Frankly, youre a bit unsteady, Simon, no river for you now, Olivia shook her head.
Suit yourselves, Im off. Coming, Irene? Need to sort beds, air the rooms.
He glanced hopefully at Irene, but Olivia grabbed her hand.
Do it yourself. Irenes to rest.
Yes, mind her heart, Jacob added. Simon, need a hand?
Eh? Change sheets? Youre joking! Sherlock, with me!
The piglet ran, Simon following behind.
Fittinga perfect pair! Jacob quipped, seeing Irenes look, Sorry
She shrugged.
This way, let me show you your room, Olivia led her inside, and Jacob cleared up. Children, can you help?
They nodded, gathering plates
Simon flopped onto his old sofa, promptly falling asleep. He dreamt of Olivia visitingkneeling, stroking his face, whispering, kissing him. She came, unbidden, because she understood she belonged with himfar better than old Jake.
He wokeOlivias giggle or hiccough in the dream? It was only Sherlockpiglet on the couch, snuffling for attention.
Get lost! You little beast! Bacon, you! Simon roared, shoving him off. Fetch Olivia, will you
He tossed and turned, then, restless, fetched his suitcase from the car, changed, and wandered to the river.
In the bedroom, Irene dozed. The window was open, carrying scents of bonfire and river. It was nearthe glint of water through thinning autumn trees like silver quicksilver.
Simons odd today she mused, then slid into sleep, waking abruptly as Olivia shook her shoulder, face strained and pale.
Irene! Sorry, but Jake says Simons gone to the river, still tipsy. Hes not back yet
Irene shot up, looked for shoes, dashed for the garden.
“Where’s the river, Liv?”
“That way. Dont worry, he swims like a fish!” Olivia tried to keep up. Jacob was already at the bank, scrutinising the swirl below.
Wheres he gone? He can’t have got far Maybe upriver? he asked Olivia.
Unlikelyhe knows the marsh is out that way, she replied.
Therehis towel! Irene shrieked, running to amass herself in the sandmemories like quick stabs in her chest. Years ago, shed watched a girl nearly drowna blue, lifeless face, a mothers shrieks. Where is heSimon! SIMON! she hollered, batting at Olivias hands.
Ill dive, Jacob decided. The currents nasty, but Ill have a go. Olivia, call Mr. Peterson, maybe he can send help!
He stripped, threw himself in, strong strokes carving the water.
Irene, get the phone, quick! Sophie, Michaeldash home for the mobile from the gazebo, youre quickest! Olivia clapped Dashas shoulders. Rescue squad will help. Off you go!
Dasha nodded, sprinted, Michael in tow.
Olivia sat, stomach twinging with nerves. She always felt wrong when Simon was aroundthere was threat to him, a storm building.
She forced herself to breathe, calm down. There was Jake, surfacing, wavingbut Simon She didnt want the worry. Not for him. Only felt sorry for Irene. She should be cherished, fed up, hugged, not wasted on the likes of Simon.
“Irene, sit, sit here. Dizzy? Right then,” Olivia helped her. “Jake will manage, youll see.”
Liv, I cant I cant bear it! Yes, Simons difficult, egotistical, but hes goodtrue! Hes always helping others, hoping for praise When Sophie was born, he glowed, even though hed set his heart on a boy. Everyone else had sons, but he adored her. Seems daft
Well, he is what he is, Olivia shrugged. Yes, hes vain. Always was. But hes not a drunk or a smoker. Only today hes really outdone himself
They watched Jacob search the water, Irene trembling with weeping children. Dasha returned, gasping with the phone, Michael clinging on. Olivia called the rescue service; Old Peter swore, promised theyd hurry.
Olivia, wheres Jake?
Hes diving
Get him out, or the boatll catch him in the blades. Go on, love.
Right!
Olivia waved at Jake, signalling with the mobile, just managing to stop Irene dashing in herself. She couldnt swim, not well. She was terrified of drowning, let alone searching for her husbands body.
The two women clung together, shaking, children tight against them.
Jake emerged, wringing his hands.
Liv, you need to go home, take your pills, rest, please! he urged his wife.
I’ll stay with Irene. I’m fine, JakeIve got it,” she squeezed his hand.
Village men came to help, but Jake told them to await the rescue boat. Jimyes, the same Jim whod danced with Simon as a boystood sullen, then with a curse, plunged into the river. He swam long under the thick green, surfacing just as the rescue boat churned by.
Then, from the bushesthey all heard the undergrowth rustleemerged Simon, dry as a bone, caressing his pale round stomach.
Well, look at that! Scared, were you? I ducked in the bushes, heard you all carrying on. What a fuss! He grinned, slicked his gelled hair, then saw Irene collapse in slow motionface pale as chalk, lips turning blue. Olivia caught her, a chapJakedashed over, the children wailed. Irene sobbed ugly, wracking sobs before the assembled crowd. The men appalled.
Shell keel over, all on account of your japes, you great lummox! Aunt Gillian flapped a towel at Irene.
Simon blinked, blinked, grinned, then stopped. A chill crawled over him.
He staggered to Irene, crouched.
“Irene, come on! Only a joke, love! Dont cry, silly thing! See, Im fine, Im right here. You frightened? Thats cause you care, you care, Irie. Dont cry. It makes you ugly. Olivia said she didnt care, but I knew she did!”
He tried to pat Irene, but she sat up, clocked him across the jaw.
Simon, startled, toppled over. The men, whod half a mind to do likewise, halted. The rescue men lingered, Jim dragged himself up, staring at Irene.
Her cheeks flushed, hair wild, her voice sharp.
“How dare you! What kind of animal are you? Going for a swimjust a silly joke, is it? Youre just a little brat! Youd never dareyoure all talk, Simon! You love yourself too much for that! Sophie, Michael, block your earsMothers lost patience.” The children obeyed.
“Go on, love yourself, see if I care! Was this to see everyone in tears without you? Was it to test Olivia? You half-baked piglet! Liv told me you fancied her as kids, and she rejected you. Still stings, eh? So you cook up this river prank! Oh, well done! Dont touch me!” She shrugged off Jakes hands. “Vain peacock. Selfish brute. All you want is for others to envy your pets, your iguana, your spidersso you can preen. Off with you then, I’ll throw you in the reeds myselfhow about that? Shall we? Come on, dont just stand there!”
Simon whimpered; the whiskey finally took its toll.
“You know why Im still with you? Because the kids love you, and youre obsessed with being the best. You want to be the best dad, the perfect father, and they get everythinga charmed life, never want for anything. Honestly, thats why! And youre so proudah, Simon, top marks for you! Still Im tired. I love youfool that I ambut Im exhausted pressing those king of the castle buttons. Im tired of thinking youve favoured me, exalted me, noble Simon bestowing himself on little me. Thats what years with you have done. But enough! Ditch your crown, or Im filing for divorce. Or jump in the river, see if I care.”
She stamped and retreated so she wouldnt hit him again; her whole body shook.
“As for me,” Olivia chimed in, “I really couldnt care less. If youd drowned, I wouldnt have cried. For the kids, yes, and Irenebut for you just mild regret, perhaps. And your stupid joke almost killed Jim.”
“Enough,” Jake swept Simon aside. “Seeing as none of us drowned, how about we finish the barbecue. Sophie, Michael, fetch the ice cream from the fridgedont scoff it all, or youll be ill!”
The children nodded, looking tremblingly at Irene.
“Thanks,” she whispered to Jake and Olivia. “Olivia, you rest”
Aunt Gillian marched aheadshed homemade pickles, perfect for kebabs. “Simon, what a fool!” she muttered.
Simon stood watching their backs, silly grin on his face like a scolded boy. Jim looked as if he meant to speak, but thought better of it, just shook his head.
“JimJim! Got whisky, matebest stuff!” Simon called, but Jim didnt turn back. He liked a drink, but not with just anyone.
Back home, Simon took down every mirror, sold the pets, kept only Sherlock, then sat in the dank reptile-smelling flat, pondering if Irene would divorce him. She hadnt said a word all the way back to London, except forbidding him to sell the house. Would giving in help save his skin, or not? If she did leavewhat would workmates say if word of divorce and child support spread? He needed a plan. But first, that haircuthe was simply too overgrown.
“Where you off to then?” Irene called sternly from the kitchen. “Admiring yourself again?”
“Me? No, ehm Need any help, Ire?”
“Get some shopping in. Ive sent you the list. And dont you dare go throwing yourself in the river again. That wont wash twice, and no one will rescue you. Sherlock, follow him!”
The piglets curly tail wagged, hooves clicking over the parquet, posted himself at the door, snout twitching.
“Well, if its the shopping, shes not leaving me!” Simon thought, picking up the bag and lead, setting off for the poshest shop in townthe only one fit for a man like him.
Irene, meanwhile, hadnt decided anything at all. She was taking her time, shed let him know…
