No-One Ever Has Sex on a Tuesday (20 page)

He lifted Millie out of the bath in all her shimmery glory and laid her on a towel on the floor.

‘Say, night-night to Mummy,’ he said. ‘And promise to go to sleep quick so Mummy and Daddy can go out and pretend they’re normal human beings who go out on Friday night and talk crap. And I mean crap of the ridiculous variety, not crap of the shitty nappy variety.’

Over an hour later and Katy still hadn’t got hold of Braindead. He wasn’t answering his mobile. She’d texted him explaining the situation, asking him to confirm he’d received the message, but there was no response. Her efforts to contact him had been interspersed with attempts to turn herself into the fabulous person she used to be when stepping out for the night with her boyfriend. The legs were now smooth since she’d slathered them in moisturiser after shaving, but she was kicking herself for not having done a bikini wax the night before. She daren’t risk it now – the sight of her lying there prostrate with goo round her bits wouldn’t exactly get Ben in the mood for some love later.

Her outfit selection was also proving to be a shocker. She’d been planning to wear her old faithful LBD, which she could always rely on to show off her assets brilliantly, but her boobs seemed to have metamorphosed into an entirely different shape. They were bulging out all over the place, and if she wore the bra that could keep them under control then it was visible over the low neckline. At a loss, she started rifling through all her old going-out outfits until there was a pile on the bed, none of which her amended body shape was entirely happy with. She wanted to feel good tonight – feminine, sexy and glamorous – but it was rapidly looking like she would be shrouding herself with clothes she normally reserved for her zero body confidence days. Clothes that didn’t display her assets but hid her lumps and bumps in copious amounts of fabric.

In the meantime Ben had shrugged on a shirt and jeans. She was desperate to ask him to shave but didn’t like to come across as the hen-pecking wife. He was now lying on the bed reading the paper whilst Katy fretted over clothing and Millie wailed via the monitor.

‘I’ll go, shall I?’ Katy said when Ben made no move to go and soothe her. She was eager to take her fair share of trying to get Millie to go to sleep by babysitter arrival time.

Ben shook his head and glanced up at her.

‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘She needs to learn that we won’t appear by magic, just because she cries.’

‘Oh,’ said Katy, unable to hide the confused look on her face.

‘Just something I read,’ he said hastily. ‘You have to teach them to stop themselves crying.’

‘Right,’ said Katy, nodding. Ben reading something that was not sport related? Too weird.

‘So you just let them wail?’ she asked, as Millie’s shouts got louder. She wanted to go to her, but she had no right, she realised. With a pang it hit her that it was Ben’s right now, to call the shots on Millie.

‘For a bit to start with. Then you go to them so they know you’re there, but you don’t pick them up. You are calm and reassuring and then you walk out again. They get it eventually, apparently,’ he shrugged.

‘So where did you read all about this then?’

Ben looked quickly up at her.

‘Can’t remember,’ he said. ‘Must have been in one of the Sunday supplements.’

Ben didn’t read Sunday supplements. In fact, he often said they were a waste of the earth’s resources and should be banned. He thought no-one in their right minds should want to be preached at on a Sunday by self-righteous journalists telling them how to improve their lives. He didn’t know who gave a toss any more about the TV listings, and why should he be bothered about the latest art show or theatre production in London when he lived on the other side of the country? And he could not care less about the intimate details of the stupid, inane lives of ridiculous reality TV personalities.

‘Anything wrong?’ he asked.

Katy was suddenly aware that she was staring at him. He was lying. He didn’t go near the Sunday supplements.
Why
was he lying?

‘Nothing,’ she said, looking away and picking up her phone to see if Braindead had responded. ‘Nothing at all. If you’re okay with Millie I’ll just go and try Braindead again.’

She left the bedroom and walked down the corridor and into the living room, closing the door behind her so she couldn’t hear Millie’s cries. She tried Braindead again but he still wasn’t answering. She glanced up and spotted the pile of newspapers beside the sofa. Looking furtively at the door, she bent to rifle through them. Sure enough, the supplements from the weekend were still safely in their plastic. It was clear that Ben hadn’t touched them.

She sat back on the sofa, thinking. Ben was behaving so weirdly. It was then that she spotted his mobile sitting on the coffee table. She caught her breath. She couldn’t . . . could she? Yes, she could, she decided, and reached to pick up the phone. She knew his entry code. It was the date his football team won the FA cup final. She was in. She looked up at the door again to reassure herself that it was shut and so she would have warning if Ben decided to come in. She clicked on his text messages, glancing up and down the screen. Braindead, Rick and her own name came up over and over again but then she stopped as something unusual appeared.

He had texted someone called ‘A’. Just ‘A’, nothing else. She opened the text, holding her breath.

Thank u 4 yesterday – Ben

She didn’t have time to process it before the doorbell rang. She leapt up, surprised by the alien sound. She put the phone back down and hurried out the room to the door.

For what?
she kept thinking. What was he thanking A for? Who was A? She was still racking her brains when she thrust open the front door, to be confronted by Braindead standing there in a jumper and jeans and absolutely soaked through to the skin.

‘Can I get into your tumble dryer?’ he asked, pushing past her to stand shivering next to the radiator in the hallway.

‘Didn’t you get my message?’ she said, feeling instantly terrible that Braindead had come all this way in the rain for nothing.

‘What message?’

‘I texted and rang several times to tell you we’ve managed to get a babysitter.’

‘Really?’ said Braindead, looking uplifted from his sodden mess. ‘So you can come out too? Wow,’ he said, leaping forward as if to hug her. She caught his wrists just in time to stop him soaking her through.

‘Oh Katy,’ he exclaimed. ‘It’ll be just like old times. You, me and Ben. Let’s ring Rick, see if he’s around. We could even go to the Red Lion in Otley. See if we can steal a friend for Gloria.’ He was grinning in excitement. ‘It was the best day of my life when you managed to sneak that stuffed puffin out of there. Seriously. Let’s go there again and see what else we can get.’

Katy raised her eyes to the ceiling. This didn’t bode well. How was she meant to explain she’d scuppered his entire evening?

‘To be honest, that’s why I was calling you,’ she began.

‘To tell me we were going to get a mate for Gloria?’ asked Braindead.

‘No,’ said Katy, now regretting having stolen the said stuffed puffin just to prove to Ben and his mates that she was as young and daring as them, despite her being eight years older and pregnant. She took hold of Braindead’s wrists again in an effort to get him to focus on what she was saying. ‘I was ringing to tell you that I’d no idea that Ben had planned to go out with you tonight and I’d planned a surprise night out for the two of us instead.’

‘Aw Katy, what a lovely thought. I know we haven’t seen much of each other lately, what with you being busy with work and the baby and what have you. Actually, I do have lots of questions to ask you about Cheryl at work. She’s taken a dislike to me and I have no idea why, or what to do.’

Katy let go of Braindead’s wrists. This really wasn’t going to be easy.

‘I meant me and Ben, not me and you,’ she said.

Braindead didn’t respond for a moment, clearly considering the situation.

‘But you see Ben all the time,’ he said eventually. ‘Why do you need to go out with him?’

How could the evening already be turning into more hassle than it was worth? she thought. And they hadn’t even gone anywhere yet.

‘Because we haven’t been out together since before Millie was born.’

‘But you’ve been together all that time. Katy, I know maths isn’t your strong point, but if you counted up how many hours you’d spent with Ben in the last few months you’d realise that you were in no way deficient of spending time together. Ben and me, however, are sadly lacking, and me and you, well, virtually zero. I think if we all just sat down and thought about this and ran up a quick chart, we would certainly conclude that the people most requiring a night out together are in fact me and you, Katy. So let’s go now and get ourselves to that microbrewery before Ben even notices. You can explain the numbers to him when we get back.’

Katy counted to five before she responded.

‘Flattered as I am that you would like to spend the night with me . . .’

‘Drinking, nothing else, mind. No offence, Katy, but I just don’t see you that way.’

‘I’m so pleased to hear that, Braindead,’ Katy sighed. ‘So like I say, nice as it would be to have a night out with you, I really need to spend some time with Ben. I’m really sorry you’ve had a wasted journey, but Ben can’t come out to play with you tonight. Maybe one night next week, eh?’ What about Sunday night? Is the microbrewery open then?’

‘What have we here?’ came a voice floating from the stairwell.

‘Hi Daniel,’ Katy called.

‘Danny boy,’ exclaimed Braindead. ‘Long time no see. Must be, what, the day Millie was born? What are you doing here?’ He turned back to Katy. ‘Are you and Ben going out with him? How come he gets to go out and I don’t?’

Katy put her head in her hands. This could not be happening. She looked up at Daniel pleadingly.

‘Ben had already arranged to go out with Braindead,’ she said, as calmly as she could. ‘I’m just trying to explain to him that me and Ben are going out and unfortunately Ben needs to postpone his night out with Braindead to another time.’

Daniel coughed, put a large vintage suitcase down on the floor and unwrapped the scarf from around his neck before he responded.

‘Leave it with me,’ he said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘Go and put something on that at the very least makes you look pear-shaped rather than potato-shaped and I’ll sort this out.’

‘Thank you,’ gasped Katy, scuttling away. She’d accept the insult if Daniel could get rid of Braindead.

Daniel watched her disappear then turned to face Braindead.

‘I’m here on extremely important work,’ he hissed. ‘We are staging an intervention and your presence could blow it all.’

‘Staging what?’ asked Braindead.

‘An intervention.’

‘Never heard of it,’ shrugged Braindead. ‘Is this some new type of play or something?’

Daniel blinked at Braindead several times before he could recompose himself.

‘No,’ he said. ‘An intervention is when you can see that someone has a problem and you step in to try and sort it out for them.’

‘Right,’ said Braindead, nodding slowly. ‘So what’s the problem then?’

‘Well,’ said Daniel, glancing down the hallway. ‘It’s a bit delicate, actually. I’m not sure if I should be telling you.’

‘I can do delicate,’ replied Braindead. ‘What makes you think I can’t, Danny Boy?’

‘Please don’t call me Danny Boy.’

‘If I don’t call you Danny Boy, will you tell me what’s delicate?’

‘If I tell you, will you leave?’

Braindead thought for a moment.

‘Okay then,’ he shrugged.

‘Well,’ said Daniel, lowering his voice, ‘Ben and Katy actually haven’t had sex in—’

‘A fucking long time,’ interrupted Braindead. ‘Yeah, I know, and so?’

Daniel looked taken aback.

‘You know?’

‘Yeah, Ben must have mentioned it sometime.’

‘Right, okay,’ said Daniel, slightly thrown. ‘Well, that’s the problem that we are staging the intervention for. Katy is taking Ben out for the night for a few drinks to loosen everyone up a bit. I’m babysitting, and while they’re out I’ve brought the necessary equipment in this case here to prepare their bedroom for Luuuuurve.’

Braindead looked down at the battered brown case.

‘What’s in it then?’ he asked.

‘Just a few tricks up my sleeve. I will transform that room into the sexiest thing you have ever seen whilst they’re gone. If they don’t end up having sex, well, then I’m a Dutch cap.’

Braindead glanced between the case and Daniel several times.

‘Can I help?’ he said eventually.

‘No,’ replied Daniel instantly.

‘But I need to know how to prepare a bedroom for luurve. It’s clearly what I’ve been missing all this time. I need to know your tricks, Daniel. You show me how to set up this room of love thing and I will be your best mate ever, seriously. You could change my life – well, my sex life at least. Please, Danny Boy, please.’

‘Don’t call me Danny Boy.’

‘Sorry. Look, I can help you look after Millie too. If she wakes up I’ll hold her. She likes me, seriously. You show me the love bedroom and I’ll look after Millie.’

It didn’t take Daniel long to accept. He’d been mildly concerned about what he was going to do if Millie woke up, not that he’d told Katy that.

‘You’re on,’ he said. ‘But there will be no inflating of condoms or playing with matches,’ he added firmly.

‘Understood,’ replied Braindead, giving him a swift salute. ‘This is epic,’ he continued. ‘There was me dreaming of a pint of Old Peculiar all day. Little did I know I was going to turn my sex life around. Just shows that you never know how a Friday night can turn out.’

Chapter Twenty

It wasn’t a microbrewery, thought Ben as they approached their venue for the evening. There was too much sparkle and reflection and weird lighting fixtures for it to be a microbrewery. And was that a doorman? Definitely not a microbrewery. He could feel his heart sinking. He should be excited about a night out with Katy, he knew he should. And she was absolutely right, they needed some quality time together, but he’d spent all day gearing himself up for the microbrewery with Braindead. It was the same as when he used to plan with Katy on a Friday morning that they were going to have a Chinese that night and then he’d get home and Katy would have changed her mind. She fancied a curry instead. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with curry – Ben could pine for a good curry any day of the week – but when you’d spent all day planning exactly what you were having from the Happy House Chinese Takeaway, then having a curry came as a crushing disappointment. He also realised as they sidled past the black-suited doorman that he’d come out dressed to go to a microbrewery. He’d unearthed a slightly cleaner pair of jeans than the ones he’d been wearing all day, then thrown an England rugby shirt on. Katy had made a real effort, he realised guiltily. She looked every bit like she fitted into this well-dressed crowd. He, however, stood out for all the wrong reasons.