I laugh. Good old George’s mum was knocking forty by the time her only son was born. Four years later, George’s dad died. She’s been on her own ever since, as George is always at pains to point out whenever I try to get him to talk to her about his gayness. You see, George, despite the frantic clubbing and cottaging of his Life Before David, has always been a dutiful son, dashing down to visit her in her tiny cottage in Kent whenever he can. Quite often, he’s dragged me down there with him. And his mum, bless her, never lets us leave without some sugary treat. A Penguin biscuit, perhaps, or a Creamline toffee. Personally, I wouldn’t mind betting that she’s perfectly well aware of the situation re his sexuality and just doesn’t give two hoots. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if her questioning about his pseudo single state was merely a wind-up. She’s a wise old bird, is George’s mum. There’s not much she doesn’t know. I’m just hoping one of them decides to get it out into the open before it’s too late. It would be a shame if she never got to know how happy George is with David.
‘Actually,’ Jake says when George has slammed the door behind him, ‘Tallulah’s the reason I’m here.’
‘Tallulah?’ I ask him. ‘Who the hell’s Tallulah?’
‘The baby.’
‘Oh, of course, sorry.’
‘You did the food for the wedding of some friends of mine. In Hampton Court.’
‘The ones with the swimming pool, where everyone ended up pissed off their tits?’
‘Marina and Giles, yes.’ ‘They can’t be very good friends if they didn’t invite you,’ I crack, quick as a whip.
‘They did actually.’ He smiles. ‘We couldn’t get a babysitter.’ ‘Well, if you’re thinking of asking me, don’t bother,’ I tell him shortly. ‘I really don’t think I owe you any favours. And I don’t do shit-caked nappies.’
‘No, silly.’ He grins, and I’m reminded of how he used to be with me when we met. He used to smile at me indulgently all the time. And even though I knew it was ever so slightly patronising, it made me feel wanted. Janice and Sam used to say he was trying to make me look stupid but I didn’t care.
I was in love, for God’s sake.
‘I wondered if you’d do her christening,’ he finishes, smiling as though he’s just done me a great big favour. He’s got a bloody cheek, to be honest. If he really thinks I’m going to run around serving cucumber butties to all his friends (who, incidentally, used to be our friends), he’s got another think coming.
But hang on a sec. Jake, after all, is absolutely brilliant at networking. He knows loads of cool people.
‘What sort of thing did you have in mind?’ I ask him.
Business is business, after all. And as long as I don’t shag him, what harm can it do?
Chapter 17
‘So does this mean we can have casual sex on a regular basis?’ Jake wipes his willy on my duvet cover and shrugs his faded 501s over his neat little bum.
OK, OK, so I should be feeling pretty stupid right now. And soiled. And probably a tiny bit used. And George is due back any minute, and if he catches Jake still here he’s going to go mad.
And I suppose it was a bit cruel, letting Jake go down on me so soon after shagging Nick. But then I didn’t know how things were going to work out, did I? And I was feeling all frustrated.
Of course, you could probably say I’m a bit dim for jumping into bed with Jake, just because he ladled it on thick about how since the baby arrived they haven’t had sex once. Fishpants is too busy calling for posset cloths or doing pelvic floor exercises to pay much attention to him. Apparently, she’s afraid that if she doesn’t keep doing the exercises, her bottom might actually fall out into her leggings as she whips round Somerfield.
The sight of her with her legs in stirrups and her nether regions doing a pretty good impression of a car crash hadn’t done much for his libido either, he said, stroking my cheek and saying how much he’d missed me. Not as far as she was concerned, anyway.
I lapped it all up like a puppy.
In fact, I was enjoying the attention so much I forgot to be caustic and say I never understood what on earth a sexy, intelligent man like Jake saw in a woman who has the class of your average pound shop. The fact that he’s finally seen sense is enough for me.
I’m delighted.
In fact, I’m more than delighted. Suddenly, I realise that I actually wouldn’t mind having Jake back in my life. Not seriously, of course. I’m not a complete idiot. I know I could never trust him again. But what if I take his offer of frequent casual sex seriously? Would it really do any harm?