a hotel.’
‘They’re asleep. The kids.’
‘I imagine so.’ He lets her hand fall with his onto the table and pushes his fingers through hers, making one big, complicated knot.
His stare becomes too much. She watches their hands instead, locked together.
‘I’m just saying they’re in the house, like,’ she says. ‘The kids, you know. That’s all. Though our Graham’s not a kid.’
Jim moves his head back slowly before nodding it forward again.
‘A-ha. I get it. You think I’m going to pounce on you? You think that’s what I’ve come for?’
‘No, I …’ Her cheeks burn. ‘I don’t know. No. I don’t know.’
He moves his chair closer, until their knees touch. She thinks of her legs, bare beneath the cardie, her vest and knickers, her stomach, her ribs and heart. There’s no movement from upstairs. If one of the kids were to wake, she would hear footsteps. She’d have time to move away from him. But even so.
Jim strokes her wrist, the soft inside of her arm, her shoulder. She closes her eyes. He reaches up and squeezes her neck softly. ‘I’m just here, that’s all.’
She opens her eyes, leans in and kisses him, listening out all the while. He pushes his forehead against hers and sighs. They stay like that, heads pressed together, in the silence.
‘It’s nice to see you,’ he says after a moment.
‘To see you – nice.’
‘Stupid. Are you warm enough?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want my coat?’
‘No. I’m fine.’
She runs her hand up his thigh and takes hold of him. He is already hard, silky in her hand.
Without moving his forehead from hers, he pulls the bobble from her ponytail and strokes her hair. ‘You don’t have to do that.’
She leans back a little from him, so she can watch his face. ‘I can’t take you upstairs.’
His breathing changes; his eyes are closed. ‘But what about you?’
‘What about me?’ She keeps a rhythm, keeps her eyes on the door. They are both fully dressed. Well, he is. And she can move away at the slightest sound.
He stays her hand. He moves his chair so that it meet hers, lifts her legs over his. He presses his forehead back to hers and holds both her hands.
They kiss, their hands tightening, until he lets go and reaches between her legs.
‘No,’ she says, pushing him away.
‘But what about you?’
It takes her a moment to understand what he means, what it says about him, about how he sees her, himself. Them.
She pulls her cardigan around her. The kids are so near, separated by sleep alone from the shock of seeing their mother with someone in this way. ‘I can’t,’ she says. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘No, I’m sorry.’
‘How much did Tommy tell you?’
Jim shakes his head, just a fraction. ‘Bits and pieces. Nothing really. And I saw … you know.’
She makes herself meet his eye. They stare at each other until, embarrassed, she breaks his gaze.
‘I was married to him for a long time,’ she says. ‘He did things. He—’
‘It’s OK. You don’t have to tell me.’
She shakes her head. ‘He never thought about me in … you know, in that way. I mean, what I might have wanted. I just don’t think it crossed his mind. He just … did what he had to do, like.’
‘Carol, he abused you.’
‘He thumped me about, you mean.’
‘That’s not what I meant. I mean, yes, but the other. If he … took advantage. It’s supposed to be about two people.’
She laughs. But it isn’t funny, what Jim has said.
‘Ted was always the star of the show,’ she says. ‘He had a very strong sense of humour. Once, he locked me in the porch. The kids were in bed and he told me there was a letter for me. He kicked me from behind and locked the door and he didn’t let me out until, well, until about four in the morning. I was freezing. I only had my nightie on. He thought it was hilarious, like. And I couldn’t shout for help, obviously. You shout for help when there’s no one there, don’t you? Not when there’s someone right there on the other side of the door.’
‘Ah, Christ.’ Jim rubs at his head.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I shouldn’t have said owt.’
Jim goes very still. His lips press together. She recognises the look and feels her shoulders rise. He brings the flat of his palm down on the table with a loud bang. She jumps, despite having braced herself.
‘Jim, love,’ she whispers. ‘You’ll wake the kids.’
He pushes back his chair. Both his hands