Love... And Sleepless Nights MAY 2012 by Nick Spalding Read Free Book Online Page A

happen to people outside terrible American soap operas.
    Jamie looks mortified. ‘I’m so sorry honey!’
    I look down at the lovely cream blouse I’d elected to wear, knowing it will be going in the bin later.
    ‘I love this blouse,’ I tell the table. ‘It was on offer in Jane Norman.’
    Then the tears - held back thus far by my indignance - begin their onslaught on my eyeballs. Try as I might to avoid crying in front of my adopted family, I just can’t help it.
    …and it’s snotty.
    That’s always the worst, isn’t it? Water leaking from your eyes is bad enough, but add mucus dripping from your nose to the equation and you’re presenting an image to the world a hag fish would find unattractive.
    I feel a little light-headed. Bolognaise sauce drips off my ear.
    Jamie grabs a napkin and starts dabbing at my face with it. I look up at him. ‘Your mum thinks I’m a slag, Jamie. Why does she think I’m a slag?’
    ‘I never said you were a slag, Laura,’ Jane remarks haughtily.
    ‘Indeed,’ Michael agrees.
    ‘You pretty much did mum,’ Sarah argues.
    Chris remains silent and looks at his watch.
    ‘I’m sorry if that’s how it came across,’ Jane says. ‘I’m just very surprised. Jamie has always been dead against having children, so I thought – ’
    ‘You thought my wife would go and kick her heels up in front of the first passing provider of fresh semen?’ Jamie finishes.
    ‘That’s not what I meant.’
    I hold out a conciliatory hand. There’s a blob of sauce on it. ‘It’s okay Jane,’ I say in a slightly sing-song voice. I think the stress of the evening has been a bit too much for me. I’m not sure I’m completely in control of my faculties. ‘I’m not bothered.’
    ‘Thank you Laura,’ she says with a nod of her head.
    ‘After all,’ I smile sweetly, ‘it’s not your fault you’re a bitch, is it?’
    I’ve never dipped my whole head into a jar of freezing liquid nitrogen Mum, but I imagine the experience is much like our dining room at that moment.
    Jane looks like someone’s stuffed a lemon up her arse. Sarah is gob-smacked. Chris is concentrating very hard on the table cloth and Michael is looking at my tits.
    Jamie, sensing that the only way out of this horrifying situation is to act very calmly, clearly and with authority says ‘I think maybe this is a good time to end the meal.’ He stands me up. ‘I’ll go help Laura clean herself off.’ He gives his mother an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sure it’s the pregnancy hormones, mum. You probably remember, don’t you?’
    ‘Yes,’ she says, trying to keep any emotion out of her voice. ‘I don’t recall insulting anyone like that though!’
    Trying to retain some dignity I wave off Jamie’s arm and stand straight. My hair is matted with sauce and there’s a strand of spaghetti waggling off the end of my nose, but I still intend to exit the room with the final word.
    ‘Thank you for coming everyone,’ I tell them. ‘I’m sorry if things got a bit testy there at the end, but I hope that you’re happy for us. We’re going to be parents and we’re very pleased about it.’ I look directly at Jane. ‘Unless of course the baby is Fernando’s, the Mexican delivery boy I screwed last month in the chair you’re sat in Jane.’
    I’ve never visited the crushing, ice cold depths of the ocean floor, Mum… I’m sure you know the rest of that by now.
     
    Jamie’s family departed pronto. Jane was out the door slightly faster than a cat with its tail on fire. Michael got in one last sneaky stare at my chest before following his irate wife out into the night.
    Sarah kissed both of us and congratulated us on the pregnancy. Chris looked at me with what I thought was a new found sense of respect, before asking where we bought our table cloth. He left with the name John Lewis on his lips.
     
    After they’ve gone Jamie closes the front door very slowly.
    I gulp. This could go badly. I’ve just insulted the woman who