wondered how long she had before the baby woke up. He would be hungry when he did and she was out of formula. Her husband was trapped at work and she couldn’t be without the formula when Jamie woke up. There would be no going to the shops; she doubted most of them were even open.
Martina threw another log on the fire; even though it wasn’t cold inside the house, she loved the feeling of security the flames gave her. The fire kept her company when she was alone, when the baby was asleep. Her husband had been stuck at work more times than she could remember; since she had had the baby she was almost certain he was having an affair. She was always aware that she was a trophy wife in the first place and she had lost her sparkle in the last year or so; pregnancy had almost destroyed her and post-partum depression was finishing the job. She just hadn’t expected it to be this hard, this lonely. She picked up the red Bakelite phone she’d got for Christmas and dialled the neighbours.
Charlie and Sophia had been their next-door-but-one neighbours for the last three years and in that time they had become close. Martina and Sophie had gone through their pregnancies together.
Charlie answered the phone.
‘Hi Charlie.’
‘Martina? Is everything all right?’ His voice was a whisper.
‘Sorry, did I disturb you?’
‘No, it’s just Soph has the flu, she’s asleep and I don’t want to wake her up.’
‘Oh, I was just wondering if you had any formula I could borrow, I’m all out and when bub wakes up I’m going to be in trouble.’
‘Yeah we have an extra tin … I’ll bring some over … hang on.’ His voice tailed off.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Just thinking I should probably bring the little ’un with me, Soph’s in no condition to deal with him.’
‘Have you eaten?’ Martina asked. ‘I’ll do you a trade – grown-up food for baby food?’
‘That sounds brilliant, are you sure?’
‘It’s just me and the baby here, you’ll be doing me a huge favour so it’s the least I can do.’
‘OK, give me half an hour to sort some soup out for Soph and feed the baby, then I’ll be over.’
‘See you then.’
Martina poured the Badedas into the water and watched as it bubbled. Why was she having a bath? She was excited at the prospect of Charlie coming over on his own, but she felt guilty for it. This was probably the first time she had thought of Charlie as a man, usually he was just Sophie’s husband, the neighbour, but the idea of seeing him without Sophie had separated him somehow: now he was just Charlie.
She put some rollers in her hair, she’d only washed it yesterday, so hopefully it would hold the style better. She was making herself pretty for a man who wasn’t her husband. It was his own fault; he had made her feel ugly, both during the pregnancy and since the baby had been born. She knew she wasn’t ugly and so maybe this flirtation would be enough to boost her confidence, encourage her to start making an effort again. She sprayed herself with Opium and opted for a green chiffon dress; the red was maybe a little too daring but the green made her brown eyes look like creamy dark chocolate. She looked at herself in the mirror and reached for the lipstick that was the right colour for her; she had read in Cosmo that you should wear a lipstick the same colour as your nipples if you wanted to attract someone – as if they would even know, but the user surveys assured her it worked.
The doorbell rang and Martina answered it, her heart beating fast. It was still glowing outside even though the sun had gone down, the snow reflecting the street lamps. Satisfaction crept over Martina as she saw a flicker in Charlie’s eye, a recognition that she was a beautiful woman. She hadn’t seen that look for a while, least of all from her husband. He handed her the baby formula. She looked at the tin in her hand, confused for a moment, almost forgetting why she had invited him over. Smiling, she walked inside, leaving the door open and without even asking the question. She put the formula next to the sink and turned to see Charlie standing behind her, a little too close. She could see him concentrating on making sure his eyes stayed fixed on her face; no glancing down.
‘Would you like some wine?’
‘Yes please, that sounds perfect. Can I put the baby down somewhere? He’s just nodded off.’
‘Sure, put him in the cot with Jamie.’
Charlie disappeared upstairs and Martina adjusted her breasts, undoing one more button on her dress. She took the roasted chicken she had made in the afternoon out of the oven and placed it on the table, then set the table for two and took a bottle of white wine out of the fridge.
Charlie appeared again and smoothed down his trousers nervously before sitting at the table. Martina served him some salad and a leg of chicken while he poured the wine for them both. She cleared her throat. This felt like a date, which hadn’t really been her intention. Or had it?
She tried to think about Sophie laid up in bed, or her husband stuck at work, kept away by the snow. The smaller villages outside the city were never really a priority for the salt that the council sometimes provided to keep the roads clear.
They ate together, making small talk while the babies remained asleep. Martina opened a second bottle of wine, aware that she was feeling tipsy, a welcome warmth in her belly that only came when she was drunk. It had been so long since she had relaxed, it hadn’t even occurred to her before how tense she felt usually. Being in a conversation with a different man awakened her to how bad the conversations she had with her husband were, with him always making her feel stupid or shutting her down before she had even started.
His obsession with their son had taken over their lives; she had become someone who only existed to make sure the baby got everything he needed. She didn’t begrudge Jamie, but she did begrudge the change he had made in her husband – who was now only ever interested in the world as it affected his son. It was as though it were the first time he was feeling love, and the intensity of that had driven him slightly insane. She wondered what he had felt for her, if his professions of love were more to do with lust and the fact that she was desired by others.
She needed to shake this feeling; she needed Charlie to leave. It was closing in on eight o’clock and somehow this had become something real, something dangerous. As they finished the second bottle of wine she caught Charlie looking at her; within half an hour she had seen his eyes rest on her knee, her breasts, her eyes and now her mouth. Slowly, he leaned forward to kiss her, she leaned in too and they met halfway. The line had been crossed, now there was nothing to stop them as they moved in clumsily, crashing into each other, standing and pawing at the buttons and zips, frantically searching for a way to an intimate connection.
As Martina’s dress dropped to the ground she felt the wetness of Charlie’s lips on her breasts; unfamiliar, not her husband’s, not better or worse, just different. She couldn’t pretend she was the faithful one anymore, though she was aware that her husband wasn’t innocent. Maybe he was snuggled in front of a different fire with some other woman right now. She refused to feel bad. He showed her no affection and so this was his fault. That’s what she would keep telling herself anyway.
Charlie moved with her and against her; this was the first time she’d had intercourse since the baby, it had been months and it felt good. She was an attractive woman, a mantra she
