Jessica Hart - Promoted - to Wife and Mother

‘So you’re only prepared to get involved with a childless man?’ Ed’s voice was unconsciously hard.

‘And there’s not that many of them around when you get to your forties-or, at least, not the kind of man you’d want to have a relationship with, I know!’ Perdita managed another smile, a better one this time. ‘But I’ve faced up to that. I can grow old disgracefully on my own, if need be. I don’t need a man to make my life worth living.’

She hesitated. ‘There’s no point in me pretending that I don’t find you attractive, Ed,’ she said and his head jerked up, the grey eyes alight with an expression that made her heart lurch. ‘I do,’ she told him. ‘But I know what would happen if we got together. We’d go out and Cassie would need a lift, or Tom would need support or Lauren would have forgotten her key…and I’d start to feel resentful, and that would be terrible. Or I might fall in love with you, and my heart won’t stand being broken again. I won’t let that happen. I…I can’t be more than a friend.’

Ed nodded slowly. There was no point in trying to argue with her and, in any case, how could he ask her to take that risk? And she was probably right. His children were demanding in ways they would never recognise. Of course there would be evenings that would be interrupted. Ed himself didn’t think that was a reason not to try, but he recognised that Perdita had suffered so much after Nick that she was afraid to try again.

It was strange to think of a woman as brave and as confident as Perdita being afraid, but Ed could see how much it had cost her to tell him about Nick. This wasn’t just a little something she felt awkward or embarrassed about. The determination not to find herself in that situation again was part of her now.

‘Friends it is,’ he said after a moment and mustered a smile. ‘At least, if we’re friends, I’ll see you. I’ve missed you,’ he confessed.

Perdita’s throat was aching with unshed tears and she swallowed. ‘I’ve missed you too,’ she said unsteadily.

‘So,’ Ed said, determinedly jolly after a tiny pause, ‘Millie and Grace tell me the launch party is going ahead in a couple of weeks. Will you be coming?’

‘If my mother is well enough,’ said Perdita, who had heard all about the plans for the party from Millie. ‘It sounds like it will be a good night.’

A party sounded fun and, God knew, she could do with some of that.

She had almost resigned herself to not being able to go but, as the days passed, her mother recovered her appetite and began to seem so much stronger and so much more like her old self that the doctor talked about the right antibiotics kicking in at last, and Perdita began to think that it might be possible to leave her mother alone at night again.

‘Go!’ Helen James ordered, making shooing motions with her hands when Perdita talked tentatively about going back to her flat that evening. ‘You’re making me feel like an old woman, fidgeting over me the whole time. I’m perfectly fine.’

Perdita didn’t believe that , but it did seem that her mother would be happy to be left overnight, and there was no doubt that it felt wonderful to let herself into the blissful solitude of her own flat once more.

For the first hour or so she really enjoyed herself. She stood on her balcony and watched the river, breathing in the cool, damp air and relishing the quiet. She poured herself a gin and tonic and ran a deep bath. She lay stretched out on her squashy, comfortable sofa and listened to the silence. Her mother always had the television on in the background nowadays and the constant sound had driven Perdita mad. Now she was alone at last and could listen to whatever she liked.

Bliss.

Except that after a while, she began to feel…well, restless . Padding into the kitchen on her bare feet, Perdita looked in her larder cupboard for something to eat. The best she could find was a tin of soup, which she opened without enthusiasm and poured into a saucepan.

A tin of soup for one. How sad was that?

She had wanted to be on her own again, Perdita reminded herself. She had longed to come back to her own flat and have time to herself. It was perverse to stand here waiting for the soup to heat up and feel wistful as she remembered the evening before. She had gone over to Ed’s house when her mother was happily tucked up in bed and watching the television and had taught them all how to make a cheese sauce.

It had been a surprisingly successful evening. In spite of some initial moaning and groaning, particularly from Tom and Cassie, all three of the kids had had a go and the final result had met with unqualified approval.

‘I wish you could come and cook every night,’ Lauren said, scraping out the dish. ‘It’s not that you’re that bad, Dad,’ she added kindly. ‘But you’ve got to admit that the same old things get a bit boring after a while. It would be more interesting if Perdita were here.’

‘Sadly for us, Perdita has her own life,’ Ed said evenly. ‘She’s got better things to do than cook for us.’

Did she, though? Perdita wondered glumly as she watched the soup obstinately refusing to come to the boil. At least last night had been fun. Even Tom had come out of his shell and there had been some lively discussions and a lot of laughter, punctuated with a few spats and more than a little shouting on Cassie’s part, which had had Perdita and Ed exchanging amused glances.

Yes, it had been a good evening, and Perdita had been sorry to say goodnight and leave them all behind in the warm, chaotic house with the sound of raised voices and clashing music and thunderous footsteps on the stairs.

At least she and Ed were friends again, she reassured herself. It was as if a huge, black cloud had lifted, knowing that she didn’t have to be careful any more, that she could go round whenever she liked. There would be no misunderstandings now. She had told Ed about Nick and he had accepted that friends was as much as they were ever going to be.

Being friends was the perfect situation, Perdita decided. No tension, no yearning, no need to touch or feel or taste. Just enjoying each other’s company. Just friends. Perfect.

So why, she wondered as she poured soup for one into a mug, didn’t it feel perfect?

Perdita saw Ed as soon as she walked into the party. He was in a group with Grace and when she saw him smile she felt the familiar longing clench at the base of her spine.

She had never realised that being friends could be so difficult. It had been fine at first. Perdita still thought about how much she had enjoyed the evening she had spent teaching the Merricks how to cook, and she had assumed that things would be settled between them after that.

Only they weren’t. It wasn’t that anything was said. Ed had obviously accepted her point of view and never introduced anything into the conversation that might be construed as pressure to make her change her mind. Perdita herself was always careful to keep things strictly impersonal.

But there was too much left unsaid. Perdita had yet to convince her body that being just good friends with Ed was enough. He only had to turn his head or smile and every cell in her body started pulsating with a terrible awareness of him. No matter how sternly Perdita commanded her heart to stay firmly in place, the moment Ed walked into the room it would be off, turning handsprings and ricocheting off her ribs until she was breathless and dizzy.

And worse was the insistent buzzing feeling beneath her skin, the one that said, Forget friends, put your hand on his thigh, press your lips to his throat, tear off his clothes and kiss him all over-go on, you know you want to, until Perdita was quivering and fizzing with tension.