Chapter Four
Dee slotted her key into the front door of her Northfleet apartment. It was a pleasant low-rise block set back from the main road. She and Josh had bought it off-plan when they’d first started living together. By coincidence, it was the same block that Chrissie’s brother lived in. Sometimes Chrissie would pop in on Dee after visiting her six-month-old nephew. Chrissie was besotted with the baby boy.
‘I reckon it’s the closest I’ll ever get to having children,’ Chrissie had said.
‘Why? Aren’t you and Andrew planning on having a little’un one day?’ Dee had asked.
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ Chrissie had looked flustered for a moment. She’d spoken without thinking. ‘But I suspect it won’t be for a long time. Not until we’ve managed to buy our own place. I wouldn’t want to raise a family where we currently live. The kids are more street-wise than sewer rats. By the time my son reached two, he’d probably be mugging other toddlers for their toys. Where I live, any child over ten is too scary for words.’
‘How’s the saving-up coming along?’ Dee had asked.
‘Nicely, thanks,’ Chrissie had replied, and then swiftly changed the subject.
Dee had thought Chrissie to be very twitchy on the whole subject, so hadn’t asked her friend any more personal questions.
She walked into the flat’s inner hallway and slipped off her coat. Dee wouldn’t mind moving. Perhaps Chrissie might be interested in buying this flat? It was light and airy with a big balcony. It afforded a pleasant view of the communal landscaped area to the rear. However, it was crammed with hers and Josh’s belongings. The longer they lived here, the longer starting a family would be a non-event. Such plans required a second or even third bedroom, and preferably a little garden. Dee loved Amber’s green postage-stamp lawn bordered by shrubs and blooms. It was perfect for a child to play in. Some time ago she’d broached the subject of moving to Josh, but he’d shaken his head.
‘Not yet, Dee. We can’t afford it.’
His reply was at odds to what he grandly liked to tell people. Josh liked nothing more than showing off and telling anybody who’d listen that he was managing director of his own company. High Fliers Limited oversaw cleaning contracts. However, when you stripped away the fancy words, the reality was that Josh was a window cleaner. Even so, his earnings were good. He’d secured work with the management companies of several blocks of flats and offices in the area, which had given him the idea of the company name. Putting on a safety harness and leaping, like Spiderman, down the walls of a high-rise block to clean external windows didn’t daunt him. What did scare Josh, however, was spending money. And Dee knew it. Josh was meticulous about finances. He made sure all their bills were split fifty-fifty. Josh never indulged Dee. Even if they went out, she always paid for her share of a chicken korma and glass of wine.
Dee loved working for Alan Mann in the matrimonial department at Hood, Mann & Derek, but her wage was only in line with local businesses in that part of the country. If she’d worked in London she could have doubled her salary, but she’d held off doing that until her CV could show loyalty and experience. Apart from anything else, she was now twenty-seven years old. She was very keen for Josh to make an honest woman of her before knuckling down to the business of making babies. These days it wasn’t important whether babies came first and the wedding second, but either way both subjects were close to her heart. Unfortunately, as yet they weren’t close to Josh’s. She knew that if they went down the road of starting a family first, they’d need a bigger home. With her biological clock starting to stir, Dee thought it might be better to move first, have a family second, and finally get married. She had all the time in the world to walk down the aisle in a big white dress, but ovaries had a shelf life. Her mother had taken years to get pregnant. If Dee experienced the same problem, she wanted to ensure she was young enough to have time for tests and all the rigmarole that came with it.
She folded her coat in half and, seeing the bedroom door open, leant through the doorway and aimed the garment at the bed. It sailed through the air and landed with a gentle whoosh. The wardrobe space in their one-bedroomed apartment was at a premium. Coats took up a lot of room. These days Dee and Josh increasingly seemed to be using the top of their bed as a place to dump coats, which wasn’t practical. Also, it looked messy. Josh hated untidiness. Come bedtime they’d be fighting their way through a layer of coats, jackets, and waterproofs just to get to the duvet. She decided to tackle the subject of space – as in the lack of it – with Josh later this evening. Hopefully the idea of moving would register in his brain.
Dee went into the kitchen. She hung her handbag over the corner of one of the tall stools next to the breakfast island. Now then, what to cook for dinner? She didn’t want to mess about preparing from scratch. It was Friday night, and Dee wanted something quick and easy so she could later relax. Peering into the fridge, she selected a quiche, some slices of ham, and a pot of fresh potato salad. Dee was preparing a salad when she heard Josh come in.
‘Wotcha,’ he called.
‘Hiya. I’m in the kitchen. Tea’s ready.’
‘Really? That’s quick.’ Josh appeared in the kitchen doorway.
‘That’s because it’s a cold meal tonight,’ Dee explained.
‘Oh,’ said Josh. The one word was loaded with annoyance. ‘I was expecting something hot. In case you’d forgotten, Dee, it’s January. Outside it’s colder than Mr Frosty the snowman’s bum. I’ve been working out there. All day. Some of us don’t have the luxury of warm offices to sashay off to, or drink endless cups of coffee while we gossip with our mates.’
Dee felt peeved, but held her tongue. She supposed Josh had a point. It was cold outside. However, his snide words that she did nothing at work other than put the kettle on and have a tête-à-tête with Chrissie or Amber had infuriated her. She worked damned hard for Alan Mann, churning out Petitions and Statements and Affidavits and piles and piles of correspondence – not forgetting fielding calls from distraught clients. Sometimes it was a stressful job. Of course she enjoyed a bit of chit-chat with Chrissie and Amber, but it was hardly all day. If that were ever the case the three of them would be sacked.
Two angry blotches began to mottle her otherwise pale face. Not for the first time Dee realised that, lately, Josh tried to provoke arguments. She wondered why? Yesterday he’d complained about the heating being on, and turned it off. Josh had pursed his lips and told her to wear a fleece if she was cold – which hardly made sense after professing to be frozen due to being outside all day long. The day before that Josh had asked if she’d put on weight because her face looked fat. Dee had felt incredibly hurt. There were other little digs that had occurred over the last several weeks. Her clothes were frumpy. Her short hair was unfashionable. Her conversation was boring. And no, he didn’t want sex with somebody who only ever lay in the missionary position. Embarrassment whipped up the two red marks on her cheeks until her whole face felt like it was on fire. Her self-esteem was unravelling faster than dropped knitting. She gave herself a mental slap.
Come on, Dee. Buck up. Take a trip to Bluewater this weekend. Buy a ramped-up bra so your boobs are bigger than Cougar Kate’s. Then push Josh backwards onto the bed, tug down his trousers and straddle him like a cello.
She picked up the plate of quiche and moved towards the microwave. ‘This won’t take a second to warm up.’ She pressed a button and the microwave’s door sprang open.
‘Don’t heat it up in there,’ Josh warned, ‘it will make the pastry soggy. I can’t bear microwaved pastry.’
Dee tried not to show her frustration. It seemed she couldn’t do right for wrong. ‘I can put it in the oven, if you’d prefer. It will only take half an hour.’
‘No, Dee. I’m hungry. I don’t want to wait half an hour. Just forget it,’ said Josh moodily. He turned on his heels.
‘Where are you going?’ Dee called after him.
‘Out. I’ll get myself a takeaway. Preferably one that’s piping hot to warm me up.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, trotting after her boyfriend’s rigid back. ‘By the time you’ve driven to the restaurant, waited your turn in the queue, and then got back home again, the quiche would long be hot from the oven.’
‘No thanks,’ Josh growled. ‘I don’t want bloody quiche.’ He stomped past the open bedroom door and saw Dee’s coat lying on top of all the other coats. ‘And put that little lot away,’ he snapped. ‘The flat looks a tip. You’ve turned into such a slob, Dee.’
Dee’s mouth dropped open, but she hastily closed it again. Now was as good a time as any to mention the lack of space in their apartment. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised, ‘but there’s no room in the wardrobes. Perhaps, darling, we could spend this weekend looking on-line at some properties? It’s about time we took the next step up the property ladder.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Josh roared. ‘If space is such an issue we’ll buy another wardrobe. There’s plenty of room for one in the hall. Oh, and before I forget, I’m out tomorrow night.’
‘Oh, that’s good,’ said Dee with a conciliatory tone. ‘I forgot to tell you that I’m out too.’ She watched as her boyfriend shoved his feet back into his work boots, and bent down to do up the laces. ‘It’s a girlie evening. What about you?’ she gabbled, desperate to diffuse Josh’s anger and get everything back to some level of calm.
‘I’m schmoozing a potential client. There’s several blocks of flats in Thamesmead that are run by the local council. I’m wining and dining the contracts guy and his wife.’
‘That’s brilliant, Josh. Well done. Don’t you need me there?’ Dee’s brain whirred. She’d happily forego her evening at Cougar Kate’s if it meant helping Josh.
Her boyfriend suddenly stopped lacing his boots. He glanced up at her in bemusement. ‘Why would I need you there?’
‘Well…to…to…support you. Maybe I can keep the gentleman’s wife company while you talk business.’
‘My mistake,’ said Josh, finishing his lacing. ‘His wife isn’t coming.’ He straightened up. ‘But even if she was, I wouldn’t want you there. You’d bore the pants off her.’ He opened the apartment door. ‘See you later.’
And then he was gone. As the door shut behind him, Dee stood in the hallway shocked to the core. Had Josh really said that? Her lovely, good-natured, sunny Josh? Surely, she’d imagined it? The words reverberated round and round in her brain like a merry-go-round, until she swayed with dizziness. And she wanted to marry this man and be mother to his children? As two fat tears ran down her cheeks Dee decided not to forego Cougar Kate’s psychic night, even if Josh came back and kissed her feet by way of apology. She hoped this Madam Rosa was as good as Cougar Kate proclaimed, because Dee wanted to know what the hell was going on in her relationship. Roll on tomorrow night.