'Tis the Damn Season by Fiona Gibson

Author:Fiona Gibson [Gibson, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books
Published: 2024-09-11T00:00:00+00:00

23

Something feels different at Carmel’s this time. It’s the way she greets him, Joel thinks. Is he too early at 5.30 p.m.? The kids were obviously unconcerned whether he was at home or not – or living or dead, probably. So he’d come out with some guff about heading over early to the gallery opening ‘to help set things up’.

‘All right,’ Martha said nonchalantly. Things felt a little funny there too. A bit too quiet, too calm – almost eerie. But hovering about was making things worse, so Joel had left them a couple of twenty-quid notes – guilt money – and taken the Tube to Finsbury Park.

Carmel hadn’t fancied the pub this evening. ‘Just come to mine,’ she’d said. Disappointing, Joel thought, as he’d enjoyed the prospect of spinning things out, luxuriating in the many hours they would have together tonight, all the way through to Sunday morning. He’d panicked slightly about morning breath. But in his nifty burnt-orange man-bag, Joel has packed breath spray along with his toothbrush, inter-dental sticks and a clean pair of boxers and socks. There’s also a small Christmas present in there for Carmel. Small but very expensive. He’d also wanted to pack another outfit to wow her with tomorrow, but thought it might arouse suspicion if he turned up at home tomorrow in different clothes. Silly really. Joel suspects he could wander in sporting a gorilla costume and his kids would barely glance up from their phones.

Now that he’s arrived at her place, he’s happy that he and Carmel are skipping the pub bit. He stopped off to buy a bottle of champagne anyway, as tonight is definitely worthy of celebration. Already he’s feeling unbelievably horny and he can’t wait to knock back a few glasses and jump into Carmel’s bed.

He jabs her buzzer. ‘Hi, come in,’ she drawls through the intercom, as if he’s an Evri delivery guy. What is this? he thinks irritably. National Nonchalance Day? He steps into the building and there she is, in faded jeans and a loose black sweater, waiting at the open door of her flat.

‘Hey, beautiful!’ He kisses her and hands her the bottle of champagne.

‘Oh, thanks,’ she says, as if it’s Lucozade. She struts into the flat, plonks it in the fridge and pours him a glass of red wine from the open bottle sitting on the worktop.

‘So, how’s things?’ Perching on a stool at her kitchen island, Joel wonders if something is bothering her today. Normally they’d launch into kissing right away. She’d have him rammed up against her fridge, the brushed steel appliance grumbling and gurgling in his ears as she snogged him in her thrillingly aggressive manner. Then they’d pause for a drink and a bit of chat before heading briskly to bed.

‘Since yesterday, you mean?’ Carmel asks.

‘Uh, yeah.’ His mouth sets in a line. Why is she being like this? Not frosty exactly; just sort of unbothered. As if they have been married for twenty-five years and it’s unthinkable that they might have had sex over her dining table just last week.

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