The House Swap by Rebecca Fleet

Author:Rebecca Fleet
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Random House UK
Published: 2018-05-03T04:00:00+00:00

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Caroline, June 2013

HE’S ALREADY WAITING for me at the station by the time I’ve fought my way off the Tube – wearing sunglasses and a short-sleeved shirt in response to the new heatwave, lounging back against the wall. I’ve seen him from way off, but pretend I haven’t, walking slowly and composedly, feeling the Lycra of my dress stretch and rub against my thighs. I know he’s watching, and it’s only when I’m a few feet away that I let my eyes meet his and quicken my pace, almost running into his arms. He sweeps me up and holds me tightly, kissing me as I slip my hand briefly inside his shirt. His skin is warm and smooth against mine, and I feel a pang of desire twist in my gut.

‘You look hot,’ he says simply, pulling back to examine the dress clinging to my body; the band of pink and red flowers running across the bodice that pushes my breasts out beneath it, the short black skirt moulded to my curves. I found it in the back of my wardrobe this morning. It’s been years since I wore it – probably not since I was his age. When I first tried it on and looked in the mirror, doubt rippled through me, but the longer I stood there, the more I liked it: the brazenness of it, the way it shouts for men to turn their heads and stare. I had forgotten that I had this power but, now that I’ve rediscovered it, I find I only want him.

‘Thanks. You too.’ His hands are running up and down my sides, as if they have minds of their own. It wouldn’t take much to peel this dress over my head and have me where he wants me, and for a crazy moment I wish he’d do it, right here in the station, with the sun beating over our heads through the glass roof. ‘Let’s go and get something to eat,’ I say instead. ‘I’m really hungry.’

He takes my hand as we walk out on to the street and head for the covered market. I hardly ever come to this part of town, and it’s taken me the best part of an hour to get here, but that’s its attraction. No one knows us here. We’re just a couple, scanned idly by strangers, accepted and dismissed.

I lace my fingers through his more tightly, unable to stop the spread of happiness and excitement pulsing through me. This feels like a treat. It’s the first time we’ve ever had a day off together and, although I need to pop back home and collect Eddie from nursery at five, I’ll be back with him again by eight. I’ve earned this, I tell myself. I’ve been a good wife all week. Made Francis’s dinner, cleaned up after him, listened to his ranting. Kept our son away from him when he’s too out of it to see him. I think of these things and a savage surge of entitlement steals my breath for an instant.

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