Over You (3 page)

‘Bye then, boys. Be good,’ she said. It was Saturday morning and Josie was crouched in the hall, holding her sons tightly as if she were trying to imprint their shapes on to her body.

‘Are you going to bring us back a present?’ Toby wanted to know.

Josie laughed and kissed his freckled nose. ‘Maybe. If you’re really really good for Dad . . .’

‘Yeah!’ he cheered, confident already. ‘Thanks, Mum! Come on, Sam, let’s get the pirate stuff out.’

Toby ran out of the room, but Sam stayed close to Josie as she hugged Pete goodbye. ‘Have fun,’ she said. ‘I’ll ring you later, OK?’

‘OK,’ he replied. ‘And have fun yourself.’

‘I’m going to, don’t worry,’ she said. Then she picked up her bag. ‘I hope I’ve got everything,’ she muttered, fighting the urge to undo it and check.

Pete rolled his eyes. ‘What are you like? You just need PMT – pants, money, toothbrush. That’s all anyone ever needs.’

Josie hoisted her bag up on to her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him. ‘For starters, no self-respecting woman calls them “pants” – and for seconds—’ She smiled, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. ‘For seconds, I’m going to be late. Bye, Pete. Love you. And don’t forget – tomorrow’s you-know-what day.’

He frowned. ‘What?’

Josie flushed. He
had
forgotten. Well, she wasn’t about to remind him right now, what with the boys’ ears being so finely tuned to anything remotely personal. ‘Nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow. God, that sounds weird, doesn’t it? I can’t remember when I last said that! I—’

‘Josie – train,’ Pete reminded her. He opened the front door for her. ‘Go get.’

‘OK, I’m going, I’m going.’

‘Bye, Mum!’ Sam shouted, leaning against the doorframe.

‘Bye, love,’ she said, a lump rising in her throat at the sight of his pale little face. Come on, she told herself, walking down the drive. It’s not like you’re
leaving
them. It’s not like you’re never coming back. This is one night away – one well-earned night away – and you’ll be home tomorrow. And then before you know it you’ll be sucked back into real life, and this will just be a single blip of excitement that once happened. End of.

Josie felt her stride picking up as she went down the road. There she was, clip-clopping along in her high-heeled brown boots and nicest pink coat, looking for all the world as if she was quite unattached. Quite free.

A grin slid over her face. Free. It wasn’t a word she’d used to describe herself for a long time. But today she was free from the kitchen sink, and the washing machine, and the—

Oh, bollocks. She knew there was something she’d forgotten. She fished in her pocket for her mobile and dialled home.

Pete answered on the sixth ring, breathlessly beating the answerphone. ‘We’re all right! We’re surviving!’ he told her before she’d even said hello. ‘Nobody’s injured or crying yet!’

Josie laughed. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘it’s just I remembered I left my coat in the washing machine, and I put it on the synthetics programme, so when it stops, you need to take out the coat and give the rest a spin. Oh, and—’

‘Hang on, let me write this down,’ Pete said. ‘Synthetics, coat, spin . . . OK, got it.’

‘And don’t let the boys play with the furry collar from it, will you?’ Josie added. ‘They pretend it’s a fur snake and . . . Well, anyway, I took it off before I washed it – it’s a detachable one, it just buttons on and off – and I’ve put it on one of the shelves on the dresser. So . . .’

‘OK, got it,’ Pete repeated. It was hard to tell whether he was bemused or on the verge of irritated. ‘Anything else?’

Josie licked her lips, then whipped her tongue back in her mouth before she removed all her new lippy. ‘Um . . . No. Sorry. That’s it,’ she said.

A shout went up from Pete’s end of the phone, and Josie strained her ears to tell whose voice it had been. Sam or Toby? Was one of them hurt?

‘Better go,’ Pete said. ‘Bye, Jose.’

‘Wait – who’s—?’ Josie started, but the line went dead. She held the phone to her ear for a moment, half wondering if she should call again in a minute to find out if either of the boys was injured, and if she needed to rush back home to wait for the ambulance, and . . .

No. Don’t, she told herself, stuffing the phone back in her pocket. She strode forward assertively. The boys shouted all day long. In fact, the more she thought about it, the shout she’d heard just then had sounded like a fighting-pirate kind of shout, rather than a broken-bone kind of shout. She hoped.

OK.

Back to the weekend. Yes!

London, here she came!

Josie could hardly sit still as the train approached King’s Cross. It was all so familiar and yet so strange. She’d actually lived near King’s Cross for a while (although, of course, she’d told everyone it was Islington) and had loved being in the thick of everything. Yeah, sure, there were smackheads and prostitutes on every corner, there were burger wrappers blowing in the wind, plastering themselves around your ankles anywhere you walked, and there were the hustlers too, always on the look-out for dumb tourists with cameras hanging off them and pinchable wallets in pockets. That came with the territory. But there were some good pubs, too; it was close to everything, she could walk to work, and it had made her blood leap with happiness to feel part of the city bustle and pace.

Now, obviously, she couldn’t imagine anything worse than having to live here. Too dangerous, too hectic, too scary. Which was why she and Pete had upped and left for the suburbs as soon after the boys had been born as they could manage it.

The ’burbs. She had a love–hate relationship with where she lived, the bland Toytown streets and houses with their neat Identikit gardens and people-carriers on the drives. Their house was only ten years old, and Pete had jumped at it during one of their house-hunting missions, especially as his new job was just a few miles away. In hindsight, Josie hadn’t been in a fit state to pass judgement, having only recently given birth. At that point she’d been sucked in by the big, clean kitchen, the stretch of lawn, the safe, secure feel of the place. She’d been too tired to traipse around any more houses with the babes mewling in the double buggy. ‘OK,’ she’d said, without any real conviction. ‘Let’s buy it.’

Sometimes she wondered if it had been the right choice. However hard she and Pete had tried to imprint their own style on the house, with their soft furnishings and painted walls, it still looked like a box to her, with its square rooms and boring brick frontage. She wouldn’t choose it if they were house-hunting now. No way.

But hey. It was only brick walls and a roof. It didn’t matter that much, at the end of the day. And Pete still loved living there, so . . .

The train wheezed into the station, and she felt her heart step up a beat. She was really here, in London, on her own. Her phone bleeped and she grabbed it quickly. A text from Nell.

Josie grinned. No time to reply. She was here too, and Nell could see that for herself in a few minutes. She stood up as the train rattled to a stop and waited impatiently for the automatic doors to hiss open. Come on, come on!

Sssssssssssssssssss!

She was released from the smelly carriage, and jumped down on to the platform. ‘Hello,’ she said to the city under her breath. ‘I’m back.’

They’d arranged to meet outside WH Smith in the station, where half the population of London seemed to be hanging out too. A wild-haired woman with a tatty blue sleeping bag around her shoulders was asking for money, one hand outstretched. A gaggle of Japanese girls were poring over an
A–Z
, all talking at once. A manic-eyed lad leaned against a pillar staring at his own hands as if they were newly sprouted from his wrists.

Josie scanned the crowd for Nell’s blond curls. And then . . .

‘Hey! Over here! Josie!’

She spun around at the sound of her name and there was Nell hurrying towards her, Nell with the same wide grin and sparkly blue eyes, her hair in a new jagged urchin crop, but still as slim as ever – God, she looked fit! – in a dark denim skirt and biker boots, assorted beads slung around her neck and fuchsia feather earrings. She also had on a pink coat. A much nicer one than Josie’s – shorter and brighter and louder. Josie’s coat looked the pale insipid relative next to it.

All these thoughts whirled around Josie’s head as she rushed into her friend’s arms. Nell might not feel the same to hug – no bobbing curls going ticklingly up the nose any more – but she still wore the same perfume, and Josie breathed it in as if she were hungry. It was a smell of friendship and good times.

Then they were standing apart and looking at each other, grinning like fools. ‘God, you look great,’ Josie blurted out, trying to keep the envy from her voice. ‘I love your hair – it’s so funky! I almost didn’t recognize you!’

‘Cheers – it was a bit of an impulse chop,’ Nell replied. ‘I don’t recognize myself any more either.’ She grabbed Josie’s hands and squeezed them. ‘Oh Josie, I am so excited about this weekend,’ she cried. ‘I can’t believe we’re back together in King’s Cross like this. You’re a star to have sorted everything out. We’ve left it too long, haven’t we?’

‘Too, too long,’ Josie agreed, unable to stop smiling. ‘And here we are, in our pink coats – yours is much nicer, of course – and—’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Nell said affectionately, giving her a nudge. It’s not a competition. Yours looks much posher than mine. I bet yours didn’t come from the Oxfam shop either. Now – where’s that Lisa-Lou? Eyes peeled for the old city slicker . . .’

Josie laughed. Suddenly the coat didn’t matter. So what? Actually, it gave her a feeling of solidarity. Sisters, comrades, put on your pink coats and they shall know us . . . She and Nell had always swapped clothes, back in the flat-sharing days. Although tonight . . . Josie sneaked another quick glance at her friend’s slender limbs. No. There was absolutely no way on earth she’d be able to fit into anything of Nell’s any more. Not unless Lisa had a liposuction machine at her place that Josie could borrow, anyway.

‘There she is!’ Nell said just then, and Josie stared into the distance, following her friend’s pointing finger. ‘God, look at her! The glamour-puss!’

Josie’s eyes widened in surprise as she clocked the confident, sassy woman who was approaching them, waving and smiling. Lisa’s long dark hair now had gorgeous plum-coloured highlights blended in, and fell in shining waves around her shoulders. Her skin looked sun-kissed, with just a hint of eye make-up and dark lipstick. And she was the picture of classy chic in her camel-coloured suede jacket, fitted at the waist, her plain white T-shirt, dark jeans and wedge-heeled sandals.

‘Bloody hell,’ Josie said, trying not to gawp. Lisa looked sensational. There was no other way to describe it. She seemed so groomed and polished, Josie half expected to see an army of personal stylists slinking back to their headquarters behind her, high-fiving each other and saying, ‘Good job!’ at their work.

‘Hiya,’ Lisa said, her mouth breaking into a grin. ‘Nell – your hair! Where’s it gone?’

Nell laughed and hugged her. ‘The same place as your arse, by the look of things,’ she replied.

Lisa grinned and gave a little wiggle. ‘And long may it stay there,’ she said, before turning to Josie. She seemed to hesitate for a split second, then pulled Josie in for a hug. ‘Hi, darlin’,’ she said. ‘Long time no see.’

Josie’s mouth was suddenly full of Lisa’s musky perfume and her thick, soft hair – had she had extensions put in? There was so much of it! – and she was momentarily lost for words. It
was
a long time no see, way too long. They’d bumped into each other a year or so ago at a friend’s wedding, but despite Josie’s best attempts, she’d barely had five minutes alone with Lisa, who seemed to be working the room like a woman on a mission. And before that . . . Josie couldn’t think straight. Lisa had certainly come to see her when the boys had been born, but Josie couldn’t remember her visiting since then.

‘Lise – you look amazing,’ she said bluntly, once she was able to speak. ‘You’ve lost so much weight! You just look . . . incredible!’

‘Thanks,’ Lisa said. ‘Two stone gone, can you believe? And I still want to lose a bit more.’ She patted her flat, verging on concave, stomach. ‘Must get rid of this pot belly.’

‘What pot belly? There’s nothing there!’ Nell scoffed. ‘God, you cow. You look far too gorgeous for me to hang out with you. Can’t you put a bag over your head while we’re together or something?’

Lisa laughed again. ‘The only bags I’m planning to see today are shopping bags, filled with mucho purchases,’ she said. ‘Shall we get out of here?’

‘Definitely,’ Josie said. She followed Lisa’s confident stride across the station, slightly stunned. Talk about a transformation. She’d never seen Lisa so sparkly and self-possessed before, never. People were staring at her, and you could tell they were half wondering if she was a celebrity, with that head-high, I-know-I’m-fabulous march. Back when they’d been living in each other’s pockets, Lisa had never been the one to lead the way, had never strode ahead like that. Now look at her!

It was disconcerting, Josie thought, heaving her bag higher on her shoulder as she trotted after her friends. The dynamic had shifted. Once upon a time it might have been her, Josie, strutting ahead, taking control. But she didn’t feel like that Josie any more. She’d morphed into a follower, just as Lisa seemed to have morphed into the leader.