Some Girls Do (32 page)

‘What would you like to know?’

‘Well, what do you do? Let’s start with that.’

‘I’m an artist – a painter.’

‘I love doing painting!’ Holly said. ‘I didn’t know that could be a job.’

‘So you make a living out of painting?’ Espie said. ‘How marvellous!’

‘Well, not much of a living.’

‘Still, to be able to do something you love – I think that’s wonderful.’

‘So, how do you two know each other?’ Liz asked. ‘Cut up Ben’s meat for him, Ronan.’

‘Oh, we met at, um … night classes,’ Claire blurted out.

‘Night classes?’ Liz hooted. ‘I didn’t think anyone actually met at night classes.’

‘I didn’t know you were taking night classes,’ Espie said to Claire. ‘You’ve been holding out on me.’ She gave Claire a sly smile.

‘I only started going while you were in hospital.’

‘So what was the class?’ Michelle asked.

‘Um … art,’ Claire said.

‘Oh, so you were the teacher?’ Liz asked Luca.

‘Yeah,’ he answered, flashing a little smile at Claire.

‘I didn’t know you could paint.’ Ronan looked at Claire in surprise.

‘Well, I can’t, really. That’s why I’m going to classes.’

‘And what I teach Claire is more sort of … performance art,’ Luca said.

‘You can teach that?’

‘I’ve never taught it before, but I’m giving it a go.’

‘Anyway, I’m not very good,’ Claire mumbled, hoping they would drop the subject.

‘Claire’s too hard on herself,’ Luca told everyone. ‘She’s actually shown great aptitude.’

‘I try hard,’ Claire said, ‘but it’s more effort than talent.’

‘Well, you know what they say,’ Michelle piped up. ‘It’s ninety per cent perspiration and ten per cent inspiration.’

Luca laughed. ‘Yeah, that’s certainly true. Claire puts a lot of sweat into it. But you’ve started coming up with lots of inspiration lately too,’ he said to her.

‘Maybe you could show us some of your stuff later,’ Liz said. ‘Give us a performance.’

‘Yeah!’ Holly clapped her hands.

‘Oh, no!’ Claire yelped. ‘Um … I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

Luca laughed. ‘Claire’s still very shy about her talent,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t show her stuff to many people.’

‘She can’t be
that
shy about it,’ Michelle scoffed. ‘What about the rest of the class?’

‘Oh, I was giving Claire private tuition,’ Luca said, throwing Claire an intimate look.

‘Claire’s very private about her writing too,’ Michelle said to Luca. ‘Did you know she writes?’

‘Yes. I’ve read some of her stuff. It’s really good.’

Michelle looked at him aghast. ‘Well,
you’re
privileged! She never lets anyone see her writing. I’m a writer too, and I keep trying to persuade her to join a group with me, but so far the most I’ve seen of her writing is on Christmas and birthday cards.’

‘You and Michelle should help each other,’ Neil said bossily to Claire. ‘What’s the point of writing if you never let anyone read it?’

‘I will eventually – when I feel it’s good enough.’

‘You have to get it out there some time, Claire,’ Michelle said. ‘Get some feedback. Connect with people in the industry who can help you.’

‘And Michelle is really good at networking,’ Neil said. ‘She’s made lots of useful contacts.’

‘Claire will take the publishing world by storm when she’s good and ready, won’t you?’ Espie said, smiling at Claire.

‘Well, you can’t just sit back and hope someone’s going to break into your computer and discover you,’ Michelle said. ‘You have to get out there and chase it.’

Imagine her face if I told her I already have a book deal, Claire thought.

‘Are
you
published?’ Luca asked Michelle.

‘No, not yet. But I feel I’m getting closer. I really believe it’s only a matter of time.’

‘Perseverance is the thing,’ Neil chimed in, playing his part in a well-oiled conversation. ‘Look at how many rejections J.K. Rowling got before she was published.’

‘Did you see that ‘Scenes of a Sexual Nature’ blogger got a book deal?’ Michelle said to Claire, her lip curled in a sneer. ‘Bloody typical!’

‘Um … yes, I did see that,’ Claire said faintly. She’d known Michelle would be enraged by the news.

Luca looked at Claire, eyebrows raised, and she shook her head almost imperceptibly at him. ‘Who’s that?’ he asked Michelle innocently.

‘She’s this awful little tart who writes an S-E-X blog,’ she said, glancing at the children as she spelled out the word.

‘That spells sex!’ Holly informed her younger brother and cousins.

‘It’s absolutely filthy.’ Michelle sniffed. ‘That sort of thing sells, I suppose. But I think there’ll always be room for genuine talent that doesn’t pander to the lowest common denominator. That’s what I pin my hopes on anyway. And you should too,’ she said kindly to Claire.

‘Oh, I like that blog,’ Claire said. ‘I think she’s a very good writer.’

‘You read that trash?’

‘It’s not trash.’

‘Well, she may be a good writer, but there’s no way she’d get that kind of attention if she was writing about anything else.’

‘People are interested in sex, that’s true.’ Claire shrugged. More interested than they are in you banging on about the bloody school run, she thought.

‘And have you seen the way she flirts with Mark Bell on Twitter? I don’t think it’s only her writing that got her that deal.’

Claire frowned, but said nothing. She hoped other people wouldn’t think that.

‘This cauliflower cheese is fantastic,’ Neil said, helping himself to more. ‘Just like Mum used to make.’

‘Claire’s a great cook,’ Espie said, smiling at her daughter.

‘I often wish I had the time to cook more,’ Michelle said. ‘But I’m far too busy to make elaborate dinners. I’m chauffeuring the kids around all week, making lunches, cleaning up after them, getting the homework done and a million other things. By the time the weekend comes around, I’m too knackered for anything other than a pizza delivery. Honestly, no one has any idea the amount of work us mums do.’

‘I can’t begin to imagine,’ Espie said drily.

Michelle had the grace to blush. ‘I don’t know how you coped with three, Espie – and all on your own!’

‘Well, we didn’t make such a song and dance about parenting in my day. We just got on with it. It probably helped that we didn’t have to alert the media every time our child had a poo or did something cute.’

Claire wrapped her mouth around a forkful of food to hide her smile. But Luca laughed, earning a scowl from Michelle.

‘Well, things were simpler, then, I suppose,’ Michelle said. ‘You didn’t have the same pressures. The world was a lot safer too – you could let your children run wild and not worry about where they were or who they were with.’

‘Yes, that’s what I did,’ Espie said to Luca, with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Let my children run around like wild animals while I lay about drinking gin and smoking joints. Those were the days!’

‘And look how well we all turned out,’ Ronan said, and Claire smiled. He always tried to be the peacemaker.

Espie was very taken with Luca, as Claire had known she would be. She had some of her old spark about her as she talked, enlivened and invigorated by the novelty of him. She was clearly enchanted by his roguish charm and his laid-back friendly manner, but Claire was shocked to hear her inviting him to their Friday-night card game.

‘You probably have better things to do on a Friday night than play cards with a bunch of old fogeys,’ she said, ‘but Claire will be here. And there’ll be cake.’

She was even more surprised to hear Luca accept.

‘You don’t have to come on Friday,’ she told him later, as she saw him out.

‘I want to,’ he said. ‘I like your mum.’

‘She likes you.’

‘Well, I’ll talk to you during the week, yeah? Phone sex?’

‘Oh, phone sex!’ She’d forgotten about that.

‘If you want to,’ he said, watching her face.

‘I suppose we should. I mean, Mark lives in London, so …’ Not only did Mark live in London but he often went away on business trips. He probably
would
expect them to have phone sex at some point, particularly when she’d made out she was such a fan.

‘And you’ve made it sound pretty hot in your blog.’

‘How about tomorrow night, say around eight?
Holby City
’s on, so Mum will be occupied for an hour then.’

‘Eight it is. Don’t forget your vibrator.’

‘My … Oh! I hadn’t thought about that. I figured I’d just use my …’ She raised a hand.

‘Well, it’s up to you. I just assumed, since you used one in your blog—’

‘Mm.’ She chewed her lip. ‘The thing is, I don’t have one.’

‘You’ve never used one?’

‘No. I should probably get one, shouldn’t I?’

‘I think you should. Even if you don’t get it for the phone sex, you should probably get some experience at using one.’

‘Okay. I’ll buy one for tomorrow night.’

‘Talk to you then.’

‘Oh, I
like
Luca,’ her mother said later, when everyone had gone and it was just the two of them. ‘I like him very much.’

‘He’s lovely, isn’t he?’

‘And so good-looking. You’ve obviously been holding out on me big-time, my girl. So tell all.’

‘There’s nothing to tell, Mum. We really are just friends.’ ‘Well, that’s a pity.’

Claire shrugged.

‘It’s a real shame,’ Espie said, as Claire began to load the dishwasher. ‘Oh, and just so you know …’

‘Yes?’ Claire looked up.

‘I don’t buy that cock-and-bull story about performance-art classes for a minute.’

Chapter Twenty-one

Hanging Out on the Telephone

The call comes in at three a.m. I’ve been expecting it. Mr Bossy has gone to Chicago on business, and we have a ‘date’ tonight – in other words, we’re doing phone sex
.

I’ve been looking forward to his call, and just hearing his voice excites me. He opens with the classic ‘What are you wearing?’ Now, the thing about phone sex is you don’t have to make any effort. You can lie. You can sit there in a face mask and flannel pyjamas, and say you’re wearing a bustier and crotchless knickers, and your lover won’t know the difference. But I think that’s cheating – and, besides, this is for me too, so I want to feel sexy. I’ve set a mood. I’ve taken a long, luxurious bath. The bedroom is lit by candles, music is playing softly and I’ve been sipping a glass of champagne while I wait for his call. I had a Hollywood wax today, and got my hair done, just as if I was going on a real date. And when he asks what I’m wearing I’m telling the truth when I describe the black chiffon baby-doll he likes so much with the matching G-string. I chose it deliberately so he can picture me clearly. He’s seen me in it many times and knows just how much cleavage it shows, and that he can see my body through the sheer material.

When I ask, he tells me he’s wearing silk pyjama bottoms. I smile, knowing he’s worn them to please me because I like to watch him undress. I tell him I wish he was here to touch me, and he says I’ll have to stand in for him, please myself the way he would if he were here.

‘Lie back on the bed,’ he says, ‘and take off your knickers.’

I do as he tells me, wriggling out of the G-string while holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder.

‘Spread your legs,’ he says, and I do. Since I can’t give him an actual visual, I do the next best thing. I tell him that I got waxed today and I am completely bare. I describe how soft and smooth my skin feels, and he groans into the phone.

‘Oh, baby, I wish I could see you right now. Touch yourself for me.’

I start to stroke myself. ‘Are you wet?’ he asks, and his voice is thick and hoarse.

‘Yes,’ I whisper. ‘I’m so wet.’

‘I’m so hard for you, baby.’

‘Show me,’ I say. I hear rustling and I know he’s pulling off his pyjama bottoms. I can imagine his cock – I know how hard and thick his erection is. I can see him in his Chicago hotel room, naked and beautiful, and the longing is almost unbearable. ‘I want you so much,’ I whimper.

‘Ssh, baby, I know. I want you too.’ I take off the baby-doll on his instructions, and we’re naked together, separated by an ocean. He tells me what he would do if he were here, how he would touch me, and I touch myself the same way. I hold the vibrator close to the phone when I switch it on, knowing it’s a turn-on for him.

‘Let me hear you,’ he says, when I come, and I’m loud, gasping and screaming into the phone. A moment later he comes and I hear his groan across the miles, feel it deep inside me. I lie back on the bed, panting as the little aftershocks course through me. For a moment we lie there in silence, listening to each other breathe.

‘So, how was your day?’ he asks eventually, and we start a low, murmured conversation that soothes me.

‘Sleep now,’ he says at last, in that masterful way of his. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow – same time, same place.’

‘I’ll be here,’ I say.

I can’t wait …

‘So,
Luca
’s your fuck buddy!’ Yvonne didn’t waste much time before cutting to the chase the following day. ‘When did this happen?’

‘Just in the past few weeks.’

‘And you’ve been seeing him? Like, more than once or twice? Unbelievable!’

‘Thanks a lot,’ Claire said drily.

‘Sorry – no offence. It’s just Luca doesn’t usually like to repeat himself, if you know what I mean.’

‘Well, it’s not serious or anything.’

‘I know that,’ Yvonne said. ‘I mean, it’s Luca.’

Her dismissive tone was getting on Claire’s nerves, but she stopped herself jumping in and defending Luca because she knew Yvonne would take it the wrong way. Still, at least now that it was out in the open, she didn’t have to think of an excuse to talk about him with Yvonne.

‘What’s his surname, by the way?’ she asked.

‘Why?’ Yvonne narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘What do you want it for?’