Strictly Love. Julia Williams
your Charlie is only sticking up for George.’
‘How exactly is Charlie sticking up for George?’ Katie had a sinking feeling in her stomach. What had Charlie done now? Katie had given up going to football when Molly arrived, using the excuse that it was too cold to be out with a baby, but really it was because she couldn't stand the embarrassment anymore of listening to Charlie's roars of disappointment from the touchline when George missed a shot at goal, or succumbed to a tackle. George always looked embarrassed at this, and Katie felt for him, but being unwilling to undermine his father's authority in front of him, she never said anything. And, in the end, she just stopped going.
Still, in all other aspects of their life, she couldn't complain. If it was inevitable that their early feelings of lustful desire had settled down into something more sensible and solid, she knew Charlie loved her, and she loved him. They were comfortable together. Despite the stress of being dragged over to his parents' once a month and having to endure Marilyn's withering scorn as to why Charlie still hadn't made it to the top of his firm of accountants: ‘His father was at the top in his thirties, though, of course, not everyone can be as talented as him.’ But other than that, she was happy enough.
Of late, though, Katie had been getting the feeling that Charlie perhaps wasn't so happy. He hadn't said anything, but she wondered if he was getting twitchy about his fortieth birthday later in the year. He seemed a bit down about it. Or maybe it was that combined with the vasectomy he'd insisted on having after Molly was born. He'd certainly changed lately. He could be moody and difficult. Making a spectacle of himself on the touchline was probably just a symptom of a wider malaise.
‘Only doing what any dad should,’ said Mandy. ‘Shouting for George, yelling at the opposition. It's what I always do.’
I bet you do, thought Katie silently.
‘It's that arse Bill who's at fault,’ Mandy continued as they made their way out of the school grounds.
‘How so?’ asked Katie, thinking, poor bloody Bill, someone has to stand up to the hecklers.
‘Oh, you know what he's like,’ said Mandy, tossing her long fair mane back. ‘He goes on and on about not being too com petitive and not putting pressure on our kids. But the way we all see it, it's a competitive world, innit? They‘ve got to learn sometime.’
Have they? thought Katie. Do they have to learn this way?
‘So why was George put on the subs bench?’ Katie asked, but deep down she knew what the answer would be.
‘Bill said your Charlie was putting the other players off, and George was taken off as a punishment.’
Katie frowned. It didn't seem at all fair to George to make him suffer for Charlie's bad behaviour. But then it wasn't the first time Bill had warned Charlie off.
Charlie would be bound to shrug it off if she raised the subject. Maybe it was time she started going to football again to see for herself.
A squawk from the buggy indicated that Molly was getting tetchy, so Katie made her excuses and was slowly pushing her way home when she had a better idea. Sod going to football. Who wanted to get their feet cold? What Charlie needed was cheering up. And that was her job. So that's what she'd do. She'd start tonight by cooking him a nice meal. Who knew where it might lead …
Emily arrived into work late. She'd spent the night at Callum's, despite her best intentions. But weekends on her own in Thurfield were so lonely. She could have gone to see Katie, but she felt she'd imposed on Katie's friendship too much of late. Besides, despite acknowledging to herself the meanness of the thought, Emily couldn't help feeling a twinge of jealousy when she spent time in Katie's perfect house with her perfect family. It only highlighted the complete and utter mess her own life had become.
The trouble was, Emily thought moodily, she was always so busy at work, and her weekday social life revolved around London, so at the weekend there was nothing for her to do. Or, rather, there was plenty. If she didn't work such long hours, she might have made some friends here other then Katie. Then she could spend her weekends with friends on long walks and cycle rides on the Downs, or going to the cinema or out for a meal. Normal stuff. Like other people did.
Instead of which she was practically chained to her desk, and when she wasn't, she was out late schmoozing people she was coming to despise, or partying like there was no tomorrow with so-called friends with whom she had increasingly little in common.
This wasn't how she'd planned things, back when she'd started law school in Cardiff, all those years ago. Then she'd been full of naïve optimism about how she was going to take on cases like her dad's (languishing at home a semi-invalid thanks to the incompetence of the firm he'd given most of his life to). She felt ashamed that she'd ended up at Mire & Innit – a small media law firm which specialised in defending the low-level famous, in cases which, in the main, were pretty indefensible. Her boss Mel had promised her the earth at her interview seven years ago.
‘This is a small firm,’ she'd purred silkily, ‘but we are going places, and for the right person the rewards are high.’
The rewards had certainly been high financially. Emily was earning far more than in her previous job, but the mortgage on the cottage was correspondingly high too. And the promised promotion to senior associate seemed as elusive as ever, while Mel continued to pile on the work. One thing she'd failed to mention at interview was that, being a small firm, they were constantly short-staffed. Great in one way, as it had given Emily opportunities she would never have had elsewhere, but not so good in terms of having any kind of decent life outside the workplace.
Emily sighed. It had all seemed so glamorous when she'd first come to London. Now it just seemed tawdry to be raking through the muck of zedlebrity lives.
Callum, too, had seemed the height of glamour when she first met him – the gorgeous public school boy with the golden tongue had bowled her over from the start, and though she'd always known he was incredibly bad for her, now he was like a bad habit she couldn't quite shake. When Callum deigned to let her, she was allowed into his world, in small bite-sized pieces. He had perfected the knack of just keeping her interested. She hated herself for giving in to him.
Take this weekend, for instance. She had resolutely ignored his calls all day Friday, cried off a party that Ffion was going to, claiming a headache, and crashed out in front of the TV with a pizza and a bottle of wine.
But come Saturday, after a desultory morning spent catching up on household chores, and a dull afternoon alone trailing round the shops in Crawley, Emily had let herself into the flat to find three messages from Callum on the answerphone. When she switched on her mobile (which she had purposely left behind), she discovered he'd inundated her with messages.
‘Come on, babe,’ the last message had urged her, ‘what else do you have to do tonight but come out clubbing with me?’
What else indeed? In the end, she'd given in and driven up to his flat in town, where they had made up over a bottle of wine, before dancing the night away at a local grungy club that Callum and his less salubrious friends liked to frequent.
‘I promise to be good,’ Callum had said as they left the flat. He'd looked so solemn and schoolboyish when he'd said it, Emily couldn't help but laugh.
‘You better had be,’ she'd said. And then he'd kissed her, and she'd forgotten why she'd been so cross with him in the dizzying intoxication she always felt when he was near.
Callum had been as good as his word, in that he hadn't taken any drugs in her presence, which wasn't to say that he hadn't taken any at all, but it was enough for her to maintain the fiction that all was right with the world.
They had got up late on Sunday, gone for a pub lunch, and though Emily had known she should really have headed back home on Sunday evening, Callum's urgent plea of, ‘Stay, babe,’ coupled with the thought of another long, lonely evening, was enough to keep her from going back. Maybe that was why she couldn't quite let Callum out of her life. She knew he was bad for her, but he was pure escapism. Maybe she needed that right now. Perhaps