No Bra Required!
Authors: Nikki Ashton
Tags: #Humor & Entertainment, #Humor, #Love; Sex & Marriage, #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Romantic Comedy
“No Bra Required!”
By Nikki Ashton
Text Copyright © 2013 Nikki Ashton
All Rights Reserved
This book is dedicated to those special people who are no
longer with me, but I know are up there giving me a helping hand, especially my
wonderful Dad and my Pops
Thanks go to all my family, friends and work colleagues who
have supported and encouraged me (I think the gates are sometime away yet Mr
Price), to Jean for the endless cups of tea, to TC for her medical knowledge
and lunches, HB for her proof reading, and GTRL for his excellent copy editing
(you were right 99.9% of the time!). To my Mum I give extra special
thanks for her love, help and support, and lastly, but most importantly, a
massive thank you and lots of love to David, for his constant love, pride &
encouragement and reminders not to stay up too late writing.
“Lucy, give me the bobble hat now! I mean it. I’ll slap you
if you don’t hand it over!” Sarah reached across, and snatched at the
bright green woolly hat which was pulled down firmly on Lucy Meadow’s
head. “It even clashes with your hair!”
“Gingerist!” Lucy cried, frowning at her friend.
“You always say its Titian, so I can’t be a gingerist, can
I?”
“Oh, leave me alone Sarah.” Lucy placed one hand on
her head and flapped her other at Sarah’s arm. It had been two weeks and
three days since Simon had gone, leaving Lucy feeling broken hearted, and she
hadn’t been out of bed, or her bobble hat since.
*
It had been a normal Sunday in May, a late breakfast, an
afternoon spent chilling out, Simon reading the papers and Lucy the latest
frothy romance that she’d bought the day before. Suddenly, without any
announcement, Simon threw the papers to one side, got up and left the lounge.
At first, Lucy thought that he had gone to the bathroom or even, unusually for
Simon, to make them a cup of tea, but when he didn’t re-appear after half an
hour, she began to feel slightly irritated. Lucy decided to investigate.
She found Simon searching through a drawer, throwing various pamphlets and
papers onto the floor.
“Simon why on earth are you making such a mess?” Lucy asked
Simon, placing a hand on his back.
“It’s got to be here somewhere. You’ll need it if the
boiler breaks down.” He didn’t look up at Lucy but carried on searching.
“What, what will I need? Simon, please tell me what
are
you talking about.” Lucy shook her head, perturbed by his behaviour.
“If I’m not here, you’ll need the guarantee and service
documents for the boiler.” He looked at Lucy with sadness etched across his
face.
“What do you mean ‘if you’re not here’? You’re scaring
me now, are you ill or something?” Lucy asked, pulling him into a hug.
Simon pushed her away. “No, Lucy, I’m not ill.”
His head dropped, and he looked down at his feet that were scuffing the tiled
floor. “I'm so sorry Luce, but I’m leaving you. I’ve met someone else,
and I love her,” Simon blurted out as he turned and left the room.
Lucy clutched at her chest, fearing that her thudding heart
was about to explode. She slid to the floor. “Simon, no you can’t,”
she screamed. “Please, don't Simon, no. You don’t mean it. I know
you don’t.” Bile rose in her throat, and a cold sweat enveloped her body.
She scrambled to her feet and ran up the stairs. Simon was in their
bedroom packing his clothes into a suitcase.
“It doesn’t matter Simon. I forgive you. You've made a
mistake, and we can get over it.” She grabbed at the clothes in his suitcase,
and started pulling them out, and throwing them onto the bed.
“Lucy, stop it!” Simon grabbed both her wrists and
pushed her away. “It’s over. I'm sorry.”
“It can’t be. You can’t just throw five years of marriage
away for some fling with someone you hardly know.” Fighting to catch her
breath, tears rolled down Lucy’s face.
“It’s not a fling. I love her.” Simon paused and
turned his face away from Lucy. “It’s Jenny from work. We've been
seeing each other for a while and…well it’s got serious, so I’m sorry Lucy.”
“Her! You hate her, you said she was a cow.
Please Simon, just give me another chance, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
She grabbed his arms, her eyes pleading for him to change his mind.
Simon removed her hands and moved away. “She’s pregnant
Lucy, so I’m sorry, there’s nothing you can do to make me change my mind.”
Lucy’s heart broke when he’d said he was leaving, but now it
had been ripped from her chest and stamped on. She howled like an injured
animal as she collapsed onto the bed. Simon simply continued packing, without
even a glance, or any offer of comfort.
*
When Lucy and Simon married they had wanted to start a
family as soon as possible, so eighteen months after their wedding, their
daughter Lottie was born. She was a beautiful, chubby, baby, always
smiling and very rarely crying and they both adored her. One terrible
night, when Lottie was almost six months old, Lucy had gone to bed before
Simon. She didn't look in on Lottie for fear of disturbing her, but an
hour later was woken by the sound of Simon screaming. Lottie wouldn’t wake up.
She didn't have an illness. Nothing went undetected. Lucy and Simon did nothing
wrong; their beautiful baby girl was the victim of Sudden Infant Death
Syndrome.
Doctors had said the possibility of it happening another
time would be minimal. Every precaution would be taken for Lucy and
Simon’s other babies, to ensure it didn’t. Lucy couldn’t take that
chance. She couldn’t go through that again. She couldn’t handle a
child, which they’d created from love, being snatched from them. Simon had
agreed that it was too much to bear, and so they’d decided that they would
create a fantastic life for themselves without any more children.
*
As Lucy watched Simon, she couldn’t understand how distant
he’d become. He didn’t seem to care that this was killing her that she
was reliving the agony of losing their daughter all over again, as well as
losing him, her husband, and the love of her life. Lottie had barely been
gone three years, but he was willing to move on and replace her, replace Lucy
too.
“Simon,” she whispered. “What about Lottie, did she
mean nothing to you?”
Simon faltered for a moment. “I loved Lottie, but
she’s gone Luce. You need to try to accept it too.”
“We agreed Simon…you agreed that we wouldn't have any more
children.”
“It’s what you wanted Lucy, I just wanted what you
wanted.” He looked at Lucy, unshed tears for his beloved daughter,
glistening in his eyes.
“You could have told me how you felt. You didn’t need
to go and get someone else pregnant. I would have listened.” Sitting up,
Lucy wiped her face against the back of her hand and sniffed loudly.
“Would you? Would you honestly Lucy? I don’t
think so, and besides…” Simon stopped speaking, and looked inside his wardrobe.
“Besides what…Simon?” Lucy asked.
Simon sighed deeply, turning back to her. “Besides
Lucy, I just don’t love you anymore.” With that, Simon picked up his
suitcase and left the house and hadn't contacted Lucy since that day.
*
Sarah’s sigh broke Lucy’s thoughts. “Please Luce,
we’re worried about you. Lying in bed for two weeks can’t be healthy.”
“And two days,” Lucy corrected her.
“Okay for two weeks and two days, whatever length of time it
is, it’s not healthy. Even your mother has been ringing me to find out
whether you’ve surfaced, or not. The local press thinks that it’s a
hostage situation, you’ve been up here so long.” She smiled at Lucy, hoping for
a reciprocal grin, but there wasn’t one.
“I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to leave the house,
and I certainly don’t want my mother around here. If you let her in with
your key, or even get her to call me, I would never speak to you again.”
Lucy closing her eyes and pulling the bobble hat further down on her head,
disappeared under the duvet.
Sarah shook her head and sighed. “Okay, I’ll leave you
for today, but I
will
be back tomorrow, and please seriously think about
having a shower - you stink.”
Lucy sat up from under the duvet, sniffing at her
armpits. “No, I don’t...do I?” She sniffed again. “Phew
you’re right I do. Okay, I might have a shower when you’ve gone.
Anyway, why are you so tarted up for a Wednesday afternoon?”
Lucy couldn't see Sarah blush in the dim light of the
curtained bedroom. “I'm meeting Ben.”
What Sarah didn’t elaborate on was that Ben, her husband,
had booked a hotel room, and they were going to pretend that he’d picked her up
in the bar before going upstairs for some rampant sex. The breakdown of
Lucy and Simon’s marriage has scared them both, knowing that they rarely had
time for each other now that they had two young sons, Noah aged 4 and Milo aged
10 months, they had decided that changes should be made to avoid going the same
way as their close friends.
Lucy, sensing that her friend wasn’t telling her the whole
story, gave her a small smile and squeezed Sarah’s hand gently. “Well,
have a good time, and give my love to Ben, and the boys.”
Sarah smiled back. “I'll do both things Luce, now, please
get up, have a shower, and eat something. Crisps and digestive biscuits
are not a staple diet.”
“Okay.” Lucy surreptitiously pushed the empty family
bag of crisps under her pillow. “Now go, I’ll be fine.”
Sarah kissed Lucy on the cheek, and with her face etched
with concern, she left the room. She knew that Lucy was stubborn, and if
she continued pushing her Lucy would stay in her bed, and her bobble hat, for
the rest of eternity.
After an hour of contemplating whether to take Sarah’s
advice or not, Lucy decided that she would get up and have a shower. She
may even change the sheets from the bed; the smell of Simon had disappeared
anyway. All she could smell now was her own stale body, cheese and onion
crisps, and coffee. Lucy looked around the usually pristine bedroom. She
grimaced at the numerous coffee mugs that had made rings on the wooden floor,
and the pile of ripped up photographs next to the bed. On her third day
of isolation, she hauled a box of photographs from the bottom of her wardrobe
and had systematically ripped Simon, or his head, out of them all. The
only one that she hadn’t touched was the one in the mirrored frame next to her
bed. It was of the three of them - the day after Lottie had been born -
and she and Simon looked extremely happy, and so in love with each other, and
with Lottie. She couldn’t bear to rip the photograph as it reminded her
too much of her beautiful daughter.
Lucy sighed as she heaved herself out of bed, and dragged
herself to the en suite. She turned the shower on, full blast, and
undressed as the hot water created a cloud of steam around her.
Eventually, after staring into the water for about five minutes, she stepped
under it and let it run over her body. She hoped that somehow it would
wash not only the smell away, but all her troubles and unhappiness. Lucy soaped
herself and shampooed her hair until finally she felt clean and smelled a lot
sweeter. She felt a little calmer now, and decided that she was ready to
leave the bedroom. After dressing in a track suit, Lucy tied her long hair into
a ponytail - she had considered pulling the bobble hat on, but it had started
to make her head itch. As she made her way downstairs, Lucy realised that she
felt hungry, for something more than crisps and biscuits. She knew that
Sarah had done some food shopping for her yesterday. She sighed as she
thought of Sarah. She was such a loyal friend, and Lucy had treated her
appallingly this last couple of weeks. She’d shouted at her, called her a
smug bitch because her own marriage was so successful, and at one point, Lucy
had even thrown a book at her. She didn’t deserve a friend like Sarah,
but they’d been friends since college and been through a lot together: the
death of Sarah’s mother, the loss of Lottie, the “scandal” of Lucy’s gay dad,
too many boyfriend troubles to mention and now this.
Lucy opened the fridge door and looked inside; Sarah had
clearly surpassed herself. It was full of lots of tempting foods, including
Parma ham, eggs, salad and smelly cheese plus a variety of fresh fruit.
Lucy pulled out some eggs and cheese to make an omelette, avoiding a large
enticing Cornish pasty that she’d noticed on the top shelf. As she
reached inside the cupboard for a bowl, her mobile rang. Lucy glanced at
it, tempted to ignore the call, but it was a blocked number and something
inside her, stupidly, thought that it may be Simon, ringing to say he’d made a
mistake.
Lucy quickly answered it. “Hello Simon, is that you?” she
asked, her voice full of anguish.
“Don’t be so ridiculous Lucy, why on earth would that stupid
man be ringing you?” The clipped tone on the other end of the line
replied.
Lucy felt both disappointment and anger.
“Mother, what do you want?” she asked, pushing the heel of
her hand against her forehead.
“Charming greeting for your own mother, I must say. I
wanted to check how you were and to see whether you were out of that stinking
pit yet.”
Lucy didn’t answer, but took a deep breath and started to
count to ten. Her mother infuriated her, and any conversation they had
invariably ended in a screaming match. Annabelle, Lucy’s mother, had made
it blatantly obvious that her two daughters, Lucy and her sister Sophie were
merely accessories. At least, they had been when they were cute little babies,
but as they grew older, she decided that they were nothing more than a
nuisance. It was when Lucy was nine, and Sophie seven, that Annabelle
passed all significant care of the girls over to her husband, Gerald. As
a middle-class family living in a detached house, in a Cheshire market town, Annabelle
didn’t understand why the girls couldn’t have a nanny. Gerald insisted
that he wanted to be part of his daughters’ upbringing and not just a bystander
while someone else made the crucial decisions about their lives. He also
made the point that the house was a modest detached property, not a mansion. He
didn’t earn millions in his job as an English Lecturer at the local university,
and most importantly Annabelle, or Annie as she had been christened, was
herself from a council estate in a nearby town, so maybe she was getting ideas
above her station. Hating to be reminded of her humble beginnings, it was from
this point that Annabelle left the marital bed - not that there had been much
action there for at least five years - and took various lovers whom she flaunted
in front of Gerald at every opportunity. Gerald was not in the least
bothered. When the girls were old enough to understand, he was finally
able to reveal to them what he’d known for a long time: he was, in fact,
gay. Annabelle had tried to turn the girls against him, saying some
unpleasant things about Gerald, but it didn't work. Neither Lucy nor Sophie was
surprised at Gerald's news, and certainly weren't going to take their mother's
side over his. Gerald's ‘coming out’ actually gave Lucy some kudos at college
with the drama students who for some reason thought that Gerald would love The
Sound of Music, and show tunes. Annabelle, however, played the ‘hard done by’
wife at every opportunity, and tried to create a scandal. Caring little how
Gerald, or their daughters, would feel she would allow it to leak out to the
most indiscreet people, those whom she knew would gossip. Then when Lucy was in
the second year of her teaching degree at university, Gerald told Lucy and
Sophie that he had met someone with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his
life; Richard, who was the university’s new librarian. Both girls were
thrilled, even more so once they’d met Richard. He was a kind,
considerate man, who adored their beloved father. Annabelle, on the other
hand, despite having had a string of affairs over the last eleven years,
insisted upon a divorce, on the grounds of Gerald’s adultery. She made Gerald’s
life a misery, to such an extent that, after a year of arguing and being
harassed by Annabelle and her cronies, Gerald and Richard decided to move to
County Durham. It was far away from Annabelle but also, unfortunately,
from the girls. Sophie was desperate to move to London to study photography, so
she didn’t mind too much, but Lucy never forgave her mother. She had gone to
university locally so that she could be near her dad, and now Annabelle had
driven him, and Richard, away.
