he did so.
She withdrew her finger, leaned forward, kissed him and rolled onto her back. He went to kiss her lips again but she pushed his head down over her belly and towards her thighs, down between her legs.
‘My turn,’ she said.
Jamie drove to work. The first day back after his enforced holiday, he had been terrified. Firstly, he was afraid that they would have decided to sack him after all and, secondly, if they didn’t do that, he was afraid that his colleagues would hate him. He had almost been sick in the lift up to his floor. But the moment he had stepped out of the lift he had seen Mike, who had come straight over to talk to him.
‘Welcome back,’ he said.
‘Thanks. Has my desk been cleared while I was away?’
‘Eh? No, of course not. You don’t think they’d sack you over that, do you?’
‘I was worried they might.’
Chris rolled his eyes. ‘Listen, the management have got more important things to worry about than you and your virus. Have you heard?’
‘What?’
‘The takeover’s definitely going ahead.’
They walked over to their desks and sat down. All around them, people were chatting, gossiping, an electric current of nervous excitement buzzing around the office. Nobody paid any heed to Jamie. He relaxed, felt the knot in his shoulders untwist itself.
‘Has it been officially confirmed?’
‘Not exactly. We had a memo to say that the rumours were correct, that the company was on the verge of accepting an offer from another company, but that we shouldn’t panic, blah blah blah.’
‘Panic about what?’
Mike gave him a funny look. ‘What do you reckon? Our jobs. That’s been the number one topic of conversation this last fortnight. Will there be redundancies? Who’s for the chop? Lots of worried faces around – especially among the management. The word is that we plebs are pretty safe, but the middle managers are going to be – what’s the word? – culled.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Yeah. Ouch, indeed.’
‘And do we know who’s taking over?’
Mike shook his head. ‘Not officially. But I reckon it’s going to be Software Logistics.’
‘That Croydon firm? Really?’
‘I’d put money on it.’
Jamie switched his terminal on. To be honest, he didn’t care who his boss was, as long as they paid his wages and didn’t interfere too much or try to change things for the sake of it. And he was so relieved that he wasn’t a pariah among his colleagues. Now he just wanted to get down to work. Lose himself in it for a while.
At lunchtime, Mike said, ‘So how are things at home? Have you had any more grief from those neighbours of yours?’
Jamie paused. ‘Well, it’s strange. We haven’t. I saw Chris – that’s the bloke downstairs – and he said hello to me. He was quite civil, actually. I was a bit freaked out.’
‘I bet.’
‘But since then, we’ve heard nothing from them. No letters, no hoaxes, no banging on the ceiling. Nothing weird has happened at all.’
Jamie thought back to that day, the day they had said goodbye to Paul. After that day he had felt wrecked, emotionally drained by all the tears and laughter. But he also felt a little better. Their sex life had reignited, although at first he had been worried about harming the baby (Kirsty had to assure him that it would be OK). Even though, unable to help themselves, they had been quite noisy they hadn’t received any complaints. Jamie had even done a bit of DIY, putting some shelves up in the spare room, which was going to be the nursery. He was sure Lucy and Chris would write to them about the hammer blows, or even his footsteps as he walked around stripping and painting the walls, but no. Not a peep from them.
‘Well, maybe they’ve given up,’ Mike said. ‘You never know.’
Jamie smiled. It would be so wonderful if they had given up. Or maybe – just maybe – they felt remorseful about what they had done.
Wouldn’t that be fantastic?
A month had now gone by. Thirty one days without a threat or a complaint. There hadn’t even been any spiders in the flat, although, Jamie thought, that was probably because of the cold weather. As each day went by, he felt himself relax more and more, massaged by this new trouble-free life. He worked on the nursery in the evenings, painting the walls a neutral, sunny yellow. Kirsty spent a lot of time curled up on the sofa, reading; sometimes novels, sometimes books about pregnancy and motherhood. The