I admit. “I mean the hot tub, not the multiplayer sex,” I hastily clarify—but Suze jabs a triumphant finger at me as though this proves everything.
“You see?”
“No, I don’t see! Suze, people have hot tubs! They’re not all having multiplayer sex!” I catch Suze’s eye and she bites her lip, as though she can suddenly see the funny side.
“Well, anyway,” she says. “You’ve been warned.”
“Thank you,” I say with elaborate courtesy. “And I appreciate your concern. See you tomorrow.”
“Be in denial, Bex,” says Suze, as we both head out the door. “But I’m right.”
* * *
—
As I’m walking down the Letherby Hall drive, I give a giggle as I rewind our conversation. Honestly. Multiplayer sex. Suze is mad!
Although—
No. Stop it.
But now I can’t help it—I’m remembering Craig last night, inviting us round. The way he came up so close to me. The way he said softly, “We’ll enjoy the hot tub and…whatever, yeah? Just the four of us, nice and private.”
The way he put a hand on my arm. The way he looked at me, kind of intent.
I mean…he wasn’t…?
That wasn’t?
No, Becky. Of course it wasn’t. Don’t be ridiculous.
From: Myriad Miracle
To: Becky Brandon
Subject: Query!
Hi, Mrs. Brandon (née Bloomwood):
We hope you’re enjoying the Myriad Miracle Training System™!
Our team have noticed your exercise activity so far is rated at “Negligible.”
Are you having trouble with operating our interactive system?
Please contact our friendly Customer Services Team, who will help you with your settings, so that all your exercise activity is correctly logged.
Debs
(membership assistant)
But the idea won’t go away. At 9:30 A.M. on Thursday I’ve dropped Minnie at school and I’m sitting at the kitchen table, cutting out fabric for her Nativity-play costume, but my mind’s not on it. I’m half-thinking, Concentrate, and half thinking, Oh my God, I’ve never even been in a foursome.
How does it work, anyway? Like, what are the logistics? I’m quite tempted to google sex parties what actually happens, only Luke might walk in and get the wrong idea. In fact, here is Luke, coming into the kitchen. Should I mention it to him?
No, because it sounds crazy. It is crazy.
“How’s it going?” He surveys the ocean of dark blue silk filling the table. “Looks good.”
“Oh, right.” I force my attention back to Minnie’s costume. “It’s going pretty well. Thanks!”
I don’t want to boast, but I’ve chosen fabulous material for Minnie’s costume. It’s the most sumptuous midnight-blue silk, embossed with gold spots. And, OK, it wasn’t the cheapest option—but then how often is your little girl a king in the school Nativity? I bought some gold velvet ribbon, too, and sequins. Minnie’s going to look spectacular.
“Just cutting out the pattern,” I add briskly, picking my scissors back up and trying to sound like a sewing expert. I won’t mention that I’m cutting it out for the second time. Total disaster first time round—but I bought some pins this time. They’re so nifty! Someone should have told me about them before. And at least I had plenty of spare material. (I got a bit carried away in the fabric shop and thought maybe I’d make a matching dress for myself. Which is looking a tad less likely, to be honest.)
“I’m going to make a coffee to go,” says Luke. “You want one?”
“Yes, please,” I say absently as I resume cutting. I love the metallic sound the scissors make as they slice through the material. It makes me feel like a pro. I work carefully round the curve of the sleeve, then look up to see Luke watching me, a fond expression in his eyes.
“What?” I say.
“Nothing. Just, lucky Minnie.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling a tiny glow inside. “Well, you know. I want her to have the best costume she can. Although she might not be lucky,” I add honestly. “It might be a disaster. I’m not exactly brilliant at all this craft stuff. Not like Suze.” I can’t help a gusty sigh. “You should see the stuff she makes—”
“Becky.” Luke cuts me off firmly. “You’re you. Other people are other people. This is going to be an awesome costume, and Minnie’s going to be an awesome king. Has she got any lines to learn?” he adds with sudden interest. “Should we be practicing?”
“No,” I say with a giggle. “They have to make it up. Miss Lucas is into improvisation. She thinks it makes the children creative.”
“Improvisation?” Luke raises his eyebrows. “Isn’t that a high-risk strategy at that age?”
“You’d think. Apparently at the last rehearsal one of