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we don’t.”

“Yes, Lisa, we do. I’ll get them for you. I must say you look quite unwell and very hot and flushed.”

Although I really didn’t care she’d been playing away, as we both knew our relationship had been over for some time, my male pride was dented. I was going to milk this moment and get the most out of watching Lisa in her state of panic. Lisa stood by the spare room door, I guess, trying to quickly think of a reason to prevent me from entering and discovering her naked lover. The squeaky floorboard was now playing its repetitive tune as Lisa nervously jiggled on the spot, but I was curious to know who it was, so I pushed my way past. The room was empty, but there was only one hiding place, and that would be difficult as those wardrobes were crammed with winter clothes and various boxes of tat. Glancing at Lisa, who squirmed as she stood with her hand planted across her mouth, I grinned ear to ear. I inched open the wardrobe.

“No, you’re right. There’s none in here. I’ll nip out and get you some.”

“Oh, God, thank you so much.”

The relief on Lisa's face was as if she’d just received the all-clear from some deadly disease. Smiling at her, I laid my hand on her elbow, then turned back to look at the wardrobe. Lisa glared at the five-inch gap between the mirrored sliding door and the wall where some winter coats sleeves had sprung out, and I guess praying that her nude lover was hidden deep inside behind the coats.

“But it would be good to check anyway, that head must be pounding … or perhaps you’ve had a good pounding!”

The relief on her faceevaporated as I leant back and pushed the door open. It glided on its runners, stopping as it nudged the rubber stopper. Nestled between the coats was a pale, hairy, male backside sticking out. I didn’t stop to see the rest of him, as dented male pride had taken over. I left for the pub, where I proceeded to get hammered.

17

Eliza Doolittle

Why the hell I thought Jenny and Martin would be in a lovers’ embrace I have no idea. But I guess my mind was on over-drive with the concern of what the hell they were talking about, well, more to the point, what Martin was saying. I knew Martin was a ladies’ man and always seemed to have a volley of woman attracted to him, but I was disappointed with myself for thinking Jenny would be sucked in by his magnetism. As I checked the bedrooms, I gave myself a bollocking for entertaining those thoughts.

‘She’s better than that, Apsley. And you should remember how lucky you are, you tosser.’

The upstairs proved to be as empty as the downstairs. As I glanced out of the back bedroom window, I spotted them standing on the patio, illuminated by the light from the kitchen window. Martin stood holding Beth wrapped in a blanket whilst Jenny powered her way through a cigarette, which was not a good sign as she’d given up as soon as we’d adopted Christopher and Beth.

Steeling myself for what was about to come, I opened the back door as they stepped back to the house. Martin and Jenny looked up in surprise to see me standing there. For a few seconds we all stood still and stared at each other in total silence.

Back in the kitchen, Beth became the prize in a game of pass-the-parcel. Martin handed Beth to Jenny who in turn passed her to me, so she could remove her coat which she folded and plonked on the countertop. Martin stood in that old parka staring at the floor, which suggested he felt extremely uncomfortable.

‘Well, not as uncomfortable as me, pal!’

“Can we all sit, please?” Jenny instructed, as she took her seat and folded her arms. She seemed very calm and controlled, which was the exact opposite to me and, I suspect, Martin. I shot Martin a concerned look, but all he offered was a raised eyebrow. Beth wriggled in my arms as I tried to settle her.

“Jenny—”

“No, Jason. Please let me say something first,” she interrupted, as she held up the palm of her hand to me. “So, Martin and I have had a long chat. At the moment, I just don’t know what to think. I have you and George telling me some ridiculous story which Martin here seems to be going along with. I can only conclude this is some elaborate ruse which the three of you have concocted, but for what reason I have no idea—”

“Jen—”

“No, sorry, Jason. Please don’t interrupt me. Let me finish what I have to say. What I do believe is that you’re a good, honest man.”

“Yeah, right!” blurted Martin. Both Jenny and I swivelled our heads to look at him as he slouched in his seat, arms folded and shrugging his shoulders.

“As I was saying, you’re a good man, so I can only conclude that there are two reasons for this story. Firstly, I’m wrong about you.”

“No!” Although technically, she was correct. Bollocks.

“Let’s face it, Jason. We met in August last year, so we haven’t known each other long and I know nothing about you apart from what you’ve told me. There’s no one in your past you’ve introduced me to, and your closest friends, George and Don, have only known you for the same amount of time. It would be reasonable for me to conclude that you’re not who you say you are.” Jenny stared at me, her vivid green eyes boring deep into my skull.

Beth settled as I gently bounced her on my arm as she laid her head on my shoulder. Martin sat there now leaning back on the chair legs, watching the show.

“What's the second reason?”

“The second reason you came up with this story is because it’s true, which is frankly ridiculous. What the three of you have concocted is hugely

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