No-One Ever Has Sex on a Tuesday (4 page)

‘You’ve not had sex with Alison since that almighty cock-up with Katy?’ demanded Ian.

‘Well,’ said Matthew, running his fingers through his hair. ‘Alison realised she was pregnant just after . . . you know . . . me and Katy slept together, and she was so focused on that, and I guess I was all screwed up and feeling guilty about Katy, and then the twins arrived, so we sort of never got round to it.’

‘Fuck me, mate,’ declared Ian, for once looking genuinely concerned. ‘That’s bloody tragic.’

Becki was staring at Matthew open-mouthed.

‘It’s not what it seems,’ he somehow felt compelled to tell her. ‘It was just a one-night stand, that’s all. At a school reunion. I’d not seen her since we went out together as teenagers. It should never have happened.’

Becki continued to stare at him.

‘That’s nearly a year,’ she eventually breathed. ‘You haven’t had sex in nearly a year!’

‘And the last time wasn’t even with your wife,’ added Ian.

Matthew had nothing to say on the state of his sex life.

‘You have to sort that out,’ declared Ian, shaking his head. ‘I mean, seriously concerning.’

Chapter Four

‘So when’s Katy going to start coming to the pub again?’ Braindead asked, as Ben placed three pints on their usual table in the Whitlocks pub. ‘I miss her.’ He stuck out his bottom lip. ‘I need her to tell me what to say to that new woman bouncer at the Blessington Carriage. My usual chat-up lines aren’t working.’

‘You’ve got chat-up lines?’ exclaimed Ben. ‘Really?’ That’s as likely as Rick not wanting to spend all night showing off about how amazing his honeymoon in the Maldives was.’

‘Wasn’t going to mention it, actually,’ muttered Rick, gulping his pint in the fashion of a man who’d endured cocktails for a solid three weeks.

‘Good,’ said Ben. ‘So you coming to the pub on a cold, wet, miserable Leeds night wearing cut-offs and a white T-shirt is nothing to do with showing off that disgusting brown colour you’ve turned, then?’

Rick licked his lips. ‘Only thing that was clean,’ he grinned.

Ben sat down and picked up his pint.

‘Cheers,’ he announced, holding up the glass. ‘Good to have you back.’ And it was. Although it all felt a bit awkward. It was the first time the three of them had been together properly since Ben had become a dad, Ricky had become a husband and Braindead . . . well, Braindead hadn’t changed, that was something you could always rely on. And it was the first time in a while that they were in a pub together without Katy.

‘It was like a gift from God, wasn’t it, really?’ asked Braindead, picking up his pint. ‘Katy getting pregnant.’

‘Not sure God actually had anything to do with it,’ Ben said.

‘I know, but having someone in your crowd of mates who couldn’t drink and therefore
had
to drive. How amazing was that? We could literally go to any pub in the whole of Yorkshire. It was like a dream come true, really, wasn’t it?’

‘Good times,’ Rick nodded.

‘We have seriously been looking for a mate like that for years,’ Braindead declared. ‘Little did we know that all we had to do was get Ben to knock someone up, and hey presto, pub crawl heaven every weekend.’

‘Yeah, Katy’s fine, thanks for asking,’ Ben responded.

‘But I don’t just miss her for her driving prowess,’ Braindead continued. ‘I actually miss
her
.’ He shook his head in bewilderment, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. Braindead had come to treat Katy like an older sister, while she had attempted to give him some insight into the female perspective. In his opinion, his inability to grasp the inner workings of a woman’s mind was the only thing stopping him from getting a girlfriend. Everyone else knew his total lack of a filter when he spoke had more to do with it.

‘She’ll be able to come out soon, hopefully,’ said Ben. ‘She’s finally decided to ditch the breastfeeding, so the Millster is going on the bottle, which will give her a bit more freedom. As long as we can get a babysitter, of course.’

‘Breast . . . feeeeeeding,’ Braindead pronounced slowly.

‘Yeah, what about it?’ said Ben.

‘I was just thinking . . .’ Braindead started.

‘You had a brain transplant since I went on honeymoon?’ asked Rick.

‘Will you stop going on about your honeymoon?’ said Ben.

Ricky thumped him on the arm.

‘I was just thinking that we only ever say
breast
feeding. Never boob-feeding or bosom-feeding or tits-feeding or even jubbly-feeding. Why is that?’

Ben and Rick stared back at Braindead.

‘Well,’ sighed Ben, knowing he needed to nip this in the bud quickly or else Braindead would be stuck on the subject for hours. ‘Because it doesn’t sound right, does it? They’re words you might use when talking about sex, I guess. And believe me, there’s nothing sexy about breastfeeding.’

Braindead furrowed his brow. Ben knew they were on dangerous territory. Braindead’s lack of sensitivity on such matters could prove disturbing. For once he was glad that Katy wasn’t with them in the pub.

‘So is there, like, an off switch, then, or something?’ asked Braindead.

‘For what?’

‘The milk stuff. How does the milk know not to come out when you’re, you know, doing it?’

Ben looked over to Rick, who grinned inanely back at him.

‘Would you like me to tell you about my honeymoon now?’ he offered.

‘No, seriously,’ continued Braindead. ‘How?’

‘I didn’t get any of these questions on my absolutely brilliant honeymoon in the Maldives where I got this blinding tan,’ Rick interrupted.

‘I need to know,’ continued Braindead, ignoring Rick completely. ‘What stops breasts leaking during sex?’

‘I don’t know,’ Ben finally shrugged.

‘So they just go back to normal when you’re having sex, despite the fact they create enough milk to fill an entire baby every day.’

‘I said I don’t know,’ Ben repeated. ‘We haven’t got around to testing if they’re leak-proof during sex yet. Okay?’

‘Oh,’ said Braindead.

‘Shall we drop it now?’ said Ben.

‘But you’ll let me know,’ Braindead persisted.

‘Let you know what?’

‘When you find out?’ Like you said. If they leak or not?’

‘No,’ replied Ben.

‘Why not?’

‘Because no-one ever has sex when they breastfeed . . . probably.’

‘Oh,’ said Braindead. ‘Right.’

‘We had lots of sex on our honeymoon,’ said Rick.

‘That’s just brilliant, Rick,’ said Ben. ‘Thanks for that.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Rick grinned, slapping Ben on the back ‘Anyway, won’t you be getting hitched soon? You’ll be all right then. Normal service resumed.’

Ben picked up his pint and took another slug.

‘Doesn’t look like it will be anytime soon,’ he sighed, nursing his glass in his lap. ‘Katy’s too exhausted with looking after Millie to even think about organising a wedding. She barely gets round to getting out of her pyjamas these days. Reckons she’s flat out all day.’

‘Doing what?’ asked Braindead.

Ben shrugged.

‘You know, baby stuff. Feeding, nappies, washing. I go to work and she’s sat in front of breakfast telly feeding Millie, and I get home and she’s sat
in exactly the same spot, watching reruns of
Location, Location, Location
and feeding Millie.’

‘Sounds like a doddle,’ said Braindead. ‘I could happily spend all day watching Kirstie Allsopp get stroppy.’

‘Didn’t you actually do that once?’ asked Rick.

‘Oh yeah,’ said Braindead. ‘You’re right. I did attempt a whole day of Kirsty Allsopp once. Unfortunately she didn’t appear to be on anything between two and three p.m. Had to resort to Sarah Beeny.’

‘I think I’d call that welcome relief,’ said Rick.

‘So if I had a baby I could have Kirsty Allsopp all day every day if I wanted,’ Braindead said to Ben. ‘That’s like the best job in the world.’

‘I think there’s a bit more to it than that,’ said Ben.

‘Like what?’ asked Braindead. ‘They can’t talk, they just dribble. They can’t go anywhere. In fact, they’re the perfect audience for daytime telly. And you have to be there with them because they can’t be left on their own. This is a genius plan dreamed up by women to be able to have a legitimate excuse to watch continuous reruns of
Bargain Hunt
.’

‘I think if Katy were here she’d have something to say about that,’ said Ben. ‘She’s certainly not acting as though spending the day with Kirstie Allsopp day in, day out is the best thing that’s ever happened to her.’

‘Do you know what I’d do if I had to be at home every day looking after a baby?’ said Rick, slowly nodding his head as if he’d been contemplating how he would handle the issue for some time.

‘I’m not sure I want to know,’ Ben replied.

‘Online poker,’ Rick announced. ‘I got into it on honeymoon.’

‘That’s a crap honeymoon if you spent it playing cards with a computer,’ said Ben.

‘Actually, there was a casino attached to our resort. I went a few times to watch the high rollers play, but I didn’t dare join in myself, so I thought I’d have a go online to get some practice in. I’m so addicted now, I can’t tell you. I actually won some money last week. Imagine being able to stay home all day and play poker? Awesome.’

‘Mmm,’ Ben nodded. ‘Maybe I should suggest it. We could do with a windfall. We’re supposed to be saving up for the wedding, but I don’t know
how. Katy’s maternity allowance is so much lower than the whopping wage she was getting paid at the agency. Not sure how we’re going to pay the mortgage, never mind a wedding. And I know she’d really like to move out of the flat and buy a house with a garden, you know, for Millie when she’s older. Somewhere like Chapstead, but we’re never going to be able to afford a place there on the pittance I get paid.’

‘Chapstead,’ said Braindead, screwing up his nose. ‘You’re going to live in Chapstead?’

‘Not if I can’t work out how to win the lottery.’

‘You can’t live in Chapstead, mate,’ said Braindead, looking agitated. ‘You may as well give up. Nothing happens in Chapstead. There’s nothing in Chapstead apart from rows and rows of dull, boring houses where dull, boring people live. Ben . . . it’s the suburbs!’

‘I know,’ said Ben. ‘But that’s what happens when you have kids. You move out of the city into the suburbs so you can afford a garden. That’s just how it is.’

‘You’ve changed,’ declared Braindead.

‘How do you work that one out?’

‘The old Ben would never live in Chapstead.’

‘I’m a dad now. I’m going to get married. My priorities have changed, that’s all. Back me up, eh, Rick?’

‘No-one ever has sex in the suburbs,’ said Rick, shaking his head. ‘It will not help your lack of sex issue, believe me, if you move to the suburbs.’

‘Yes, they do.’

‘Have you seen the people walking round Chapstead?’ asked Rick. ‘They’re not getting any, you can tell. It’s full of knackered parents and pensioners. Stay in the city, mate. Give yourself half a chance.’

‘Well, we won’t be moving anywhere at this rate,’ said Ben. ‘We can’t afford to move or get married. I’m actually thinking of taking on some extra coaching so I can bring some more money in.’

‘Oh yeah,’ said Rick. ‘Where? Footie coaching would be perfect.’

‘It’s tennis coaching, actually,’ said Ben.

Braindead nearly choked on his beer.

‘You
hate
tennis,’ he exclaimed. ‘You bunked off every tennis lesson we ever had at school.’

‘I know,’ Ben nodded. ‘It’s the stupidest game known to man, but the tennis club in Henshall are desperate for someone in the evenings and the weekends, and it pays really well.’

‘Henshall!’ exclaimed Rick.

‘Yeah,’ said Ben. ‘What about it?’

‘Talk about suburbia. Henshall is bloody gold-plated suburbia. You’ll be coaching spoilt brats and bored housewives who have nothing to do but organise cleaners to tidy up after them in their six-bed mansions.’

‘Bored housewives,’ muttered Braindead. ‘Sounds good to me.’

‘You’re right,’ said Rick. ‘They definitely have sex in Henshall. They’ve got much more time for that sort of thing. Some desperate housewife is going to have you as her toy boy before you know it.’ Rick put his free hand up to his cheek, pretending to hold a phone. ‘Hi, Georgina, daaaaarling, just ringing to tell you the latest goss’. Yes, it’s true, I’m leaving David. Oh, you’ve heard, have you? Yes, all the rumours are true. I’ve been shagging the tennis coach. Can you believe it, daaaarling? Such a hoot. I’m moving him into the mansion next week.’

‘That’s not funny,’ said Ben.

‘But a tennis coach!’ cried Rick. ‘I repeat. You hate tennis.’

‘It’s not ideal,’ Ben admitted. ‘But we’re really struggling without Katy’s wage. I need to do something.’

‘Have you told Katy about this?’ asked Rick.

‘No,’ Ben sighed. ‘Not yet. Not sure she’s going to like the idea, either. She has a fit if I’m more than five minutes late home as it is. She’s often waiting at the door with Millie in her arms, ready to hand her over the minute I get through the door. Not sure how she’s going to react if I tell her I’ll be home even later and not around at weekends. But I don’t know what else to do.’

‘So Katy was a catch, then?’ asked Braindead.

‘What do you mean?’ said Ben.

‘She earned a packet at that advertising agency?’

‘Yeah. As I said, beats my job any day of the week.’

‘Fucking obvious, isn’t it?’ Braindead shrugged.

‘What is?’ said Ben and Rick in unison.

‘The answer.’

‘The answer to what?’ asked Ben.

‘All this money stuff and not being able to get married and online poker and Kirstie Allsopp.’

‘You’re making no sense, Braindead,’ said Ben. ‘Which I know is no major insight, but needs pointing out most times I see you.’

‘Katy goes back to work. You spend your days with Kirstie Allsopp.’

There was silence around the small table in the corner of the pub underneath a random framed picture of some fruit.

Rick spoke first.

‘I can teach you how to play online poker,’ he said.

Ben didn’t reply. His mind was grappling with Braindead’s idea.