But his words couldn’t take away the sting of his laughter.
‘I just…’ I tried again, but my throat was closing up and I knew if I carried on, I’d start to cry.
‘Come on, let’s get you out of that nonsense.’
He unhooked the bra – easily enough, because there was just one tiny clasp – and tugged the stretchy elastic thong down over my hips, tossing it into the corner of the room, where Frazzle leaped on it and started to savage it ferociously. Even if I was dishonest enough to try and return it, I thought, my cat had put paid to any chance of that.
‘If you’re in the mood, you only have to say, you know,’ Jude went on.
I’d never, ever, been less in the mood in my life. But still, I felt I had to go through with it, and I did. Knowing it would be over in just a few short minutes, which it was.
I’d lain awake for what felt like hours afterwards, cold with misery. And now I was going to have to spend the evening with him, with that between us.
Jude was in the flat, lying on the bed, his shoes still on, his laptop on his knees.
He glanced up when I came in. ‘Evening, babe. Busy day?’
‘Crazy.’ I leaned over to fuss Frazzle hello, and so I didn’t have to meet Jude’s eyes. ‘Has he had his dinner? Have you?’
Jude shook his head. ‘I literally just walked in. I’m starving, actually.’
And he and Frazzle both looked at me hopefully, expecting me to magic up their dinner. Well, Frazzle was entitled to, of course – he was a cat and if I didn’t provide regular meals, he would decimate the local wildlife and probably leave home. But I couldn’t help feeling slightly resentful that Jude, knowing I’d spent almost all day cooking for other people, now expected me to cook for him, too.
‘I ate earlier,’ I reminded him. ‘Family meal in the pub, remember? Five every evening.’
‘Oh, right.’ Jude looked crestfallen. ‘Haven’t we got anything in, then?’
‘There’s some bread,’ I said. ‘And some porridge oats. And the twenty-four-hour Tesco down the road. And Uber Eats.’
I opened the fridge and found a pack of the special raw cat food I’d started buying for Frazzle, on the basis that it was organic and ethically produced and apparently identical to cats’ natural diet, even though it cost a fortune and every time I ordered it I felt like the manufacturer, and my cat, had seen me coming. Frazz wound himself around my legs, meowing urgently as he always did, like he was quite sure that if he didn’t keep reminding me, I’d change my mind and do something else instead of feeding him.
‘I wouldn’t mind some ramen,’ Jude said. ‘Fancy any?’
I shook my head. ‘Like I said, I ate earlier.’
‘Okay. Only, do you mind ordering on your account? I’m kind of skint, to be honest.’
I felt resentment flare inside me. He’d been living here rent free for three months and never paid a penny towards the bills, and now he expected me to bankroll his takeaway as well? He’d laughed at me when I’d tried to make our sex life better by pushing my own boundaries.
But was any of that his fault?
He couldn’t have expected my clumsy attempt at seduction. The Zoë he’d met lived in trainers and was on a year-long shopping ban. I’d never said that there was anything amiss with our sex life; I’d just expected him to understand that what was okay for him wasn’t for me.
I’d known when he moved in that he wasn’t earning a proper wage. It was unfair to judge him for that. But was it unfair to expect him to go to the supermarket on his way home and sort out some food for himself to eat, like an adult? Or eat toast and peanut butter, like I’d done on more occasions than I cared to remember, when my finances had been even more perilous than usual?
But Jude was lying there on the bed, looking at me with wide pleading eyes just like Frazzle’s, and I found I didn’t have the energy to point any of that out to him.
‘Sure. Where do you want to order from?’
‘Blessing Bowl?’ he said immediately. ‘White natural with shiitake broth, crispy tofu, bamboo shoots and seaweed? And a side of edamame, and maybe some pumpkin gyoza? And a couple of bottles of lager. Thanks babe.’