The Aftermath by Gail Schimmel (free ebook reader for ipad .TXT) 📕

‘That’s an excellent idea,’ says my mother. ‘I should have thought of it myself. I’ll tell your father to put some money into your account immediately. And don’t skimp, darling. Go somewhere fabulous. Not a cheapo. Daddy will pay.’

‘Thanks, Mummy,’ I say, feeling guilty. My parents are predictable in their ability to throw money at a problem, and I’ve fallen into the lifelong habit of counting on it.

‘Which reminds me, darling,’ says my mother. ‘Daddy and I were talking about it, and Daddy says that if that bastard’s being difficult about money, you mustn’t stoop to fighting about it. We’ll look after you if he’s too cheap to do so.’

Since the split, my mother’s referred to Daniel only as ‘that bastard’. It’s supportive and irritating at once, which is probably an apt summary of my entire relationship with my mother.

‘He’s being perfectly generous,’ I say. ‘And I actually earn money too. But not enough for a week in Mauritius on the spur of the moment.’ My mother, who’s never earned a cent of her own money, laughs. ‘And why should you spend your money on something like that?’ she demands, genuinely outraged. ‘Daddy would love to help you.’

We talk a bit more, and when we finish I feel my usual mix of guilt and love and quiet horror at my parents’ lifestyle. Which I realise is hypocritical under the circumstances. Before I can have too many misgivings, I find the package I want and mail the agent. Mackenzie and I will leave for Mauritius on Saturday.

I will, of course, need to tell Daniel and get him to sign the requisite affidavit so I can travel with Mackenzie alone. I know the law is good, that it’s there to help combat child trafficking, but it really is quite a pain when it comes to actually having to comply. I download the form from the government website, and fill in the details. Then I email it to him.

‘Please sign this,’ I say.

He can piece the rest together himself.

Julia

I’d forgotten this was one of the days I’d be working with Steve. But Steve hasn’t forgotten that he’s working with me, because he arrives at the office with a pair of warm slippers, because he’s heard that pregnant women get cold extremities and swollen ankles. As he hands them over, we both look down at my feet. They are possibly the only part of my body that are still their original shape.

‘Ah well,’ says Steve, ‘maybe they’re cold?’

He looks so hopeful that I assure him they are very cold, Arctic even, and desperately in need of slippers. To prove this, I immediately take off my smart high heels – which, to be honest, are pinching me.

At this point, of course, Gerald walks in to the meeting room, carrying various files. He looks at my feet in their new sheepskin slippers, and then at the shoes lying next to them. ‘Um . . .’ he says.

‘Is there something you need, Gerald?’ I say.

‘I brought the files you’ll be working on.’

‘They’re on the computer, Gerald,’ I say. ‘But thank you. That was kind of you.’

Gerald smiles and adjusts his rather incongruous tie. ‘Well,’ he says. ‘I’ll leave you to it then. You’re in good hands, Steve.’

For some reason, both Steve and I find this very funny, and Steve laughs and pats Gerald on the back, and tells him he’s sure he’s in wonderful hands, and Gerald goes off smiling like he’s pulled off some major corporate coup.

‘He’s an odd chap, your boss,’ says Steve.

‘He is,’ I say. ‘But he’s awfully clever, you know. Just not quite of this century.’

‘Or this planet, really,’ says Steve with a smile.

We both sit down and open our laptops, and I expect that we’ll start working. But apparently Steve’s in no hurry.

‘So, tell me about the baby,’ he says. ‘Tell me what’s been happening in your life. Clearly quite a lot.’

And so I tell him. With all the complications, even though I know how bad it makes me look. And he’s interested and curious, and asks questions and says nice things about how it’s not my fault, these things happen. For the first time in ages, I feel like I’m speaking to a friend who’s completely on my side. I’ve thought of trying to reconnect with my friends – especially Mandy, now that we have something in common again – but the whole living-with-a-married-man thing is a bit hard to explain, and I’d feel judged even if I’m not.

Steve’s not even slightly bitter that he’s basically one of the victims of my relationship with Daniel. And he laughs when I’m funny, and I can’t remember when someone last did that. Daniel used to laugh with me a lot, and make me laugh. But now, I realise, we’re either fighting or having sex. And while we once might have laughed during sex, that doesn’t happen any more.

The thought makes me feel disloyal to Daniel, so I pull the laptop towards me.

‘We’d better get to work,’ I say, interrupting Steve.

Steve looks a bit baffled.

‘Sure,’ he says after a pause. ‘Let’s do that.’

FRIDAY

Claire

Now that I’ve booked the holiday, I’m frantically trying to get on top of everything before we have to leave. I realise that I really didn’t think the whole thing through, and between work and the arrangements I’ve made for next week, I’m going to spend the whole day sorting things out, and cancelling appointments and play dates I set up literally hours before. People will think I’m losing it. Not to mention the packing.

I try to get Mackenzie to school early – partly to have more of a morning, partly to avoid bumping into people and wasting time talking. It’s because I want to be quick that Mackenzie has other ideas.

‘It’s show-and-tell today,’ she announces as she eats her breakfast.

‘No, it’s not,’ I say from the kitchen, where I’m packing her lunchbox and school bag. ‘Show-and-tell is