"Do you need a hand?" Gary asks, coming up besides me and placing more crockery on the work surface as i stand at the sink, hand washing all of the wine glasses and china plates you only get out on special occasions because theyre too delicate for the dishwasher.
Pulled from my thoughts, i take a moment to answer, staring into the foam of bubbles swallowing my hands. "What, with the washing up?"
A quiet; "Um-huh." Is my answer, and i can only assume Gary is nodding too. I cant see him though, my hair hangs annoyingly in front of my face, bedraggled and un-kept until i have a dry and soap free hand spare to brush it over my shoulder with; i smirk behind it never the less. "When was the last time you hand-washed a dish?"
A long finger from behind me pulls my face free of my hair and i take the moment as a chance to glance across to Gary who is mindlessly running the tip of his left index finger around the rim of a wine glass. "Could be tonight?"
I go to tut, but an unmistakable bustling behind us halts me.
"Oh move out of the way will you, dear?" Marjorie brushes Gary out of the way as she comes, arms lavished with dishes, to the sink. "Youre neither use nor ornament standing there, i dont know.."
The elderly woman tusks, shaking her head and giving me a knowing look. I cant help but grin back, setting two glasses upside down on the drying rack. Gary, who has now come to stand at the end of the kitchen island, merely gapes at the both of us.
"Oi! I was offering to do the washing up there, mother!"
Marjorie, who has now busied herself with a tea towel and is beginning to dry the items next to the sink, makes another sound of utter disbelief and i laugh a little harder.
"I dont think so Gary, dear. Youve not washed a dish since at least 1993."
"Now thats not true and you know its not!" Gary gawks, but that simper tugging at the right hand corner of his mouth doesnt go unnoticed. Marjorie, however, is not impressed.
"Shoo!" She ushers, flapping the tea towel at her son in jest. "Go and do something useful, i think people are wanting more drink. Not for Alison, Peter and myself though, we're off to bed in a mo'."
Theres a heavy groan to our left as Gary heaves himself from the work surface hes been leaning on. "Yes, mother. Whatever you say, mother. Anything else, mother?"
Marjorie just shakes her head, either immune, or choosing to ignore the tone that drips with sarcasm. "No thank you, dear."
When Gary has finally found his way back into the living room, there is a moment of passing silence as Marjorie and i work at a steady rhythm of wash-pass-and-dry, the pile to the left of the sink quickly becoming smaller than the pile on the right. And, as much as i would rather be staring at Garys flexing biceps as he dries the plates, im pretty sure that Marjorie can do it ten times faster than he would ever be able to and i am grateful of her help.
"Youre good for him, you know?" The womans voice pulls me from my momentary daydream.
"Sorry?"
"Gary, you're good for him. Better than you realise." Marjorie doesnt look at me as she speaks, and so i keep my eyes focused on scrubbing at the, already gleaming, wineglass in my hand, caught more than a little off guard by the direction of this conversation.
"You think?" Is the only real response i can think to give. Today is fast becoming a day of DMC's with OAPs'.
"Oh yes. Most certainly. You keep him grounded, -you and Ethan. I used to worry about his ego like you wouldnt believe."
Just the mention of my husbands ego is enough to turn my lips into a slow smile. "Oh its still there you know."
"I dare say it is," Marjorie turns, only the smallest amount, and i when i look up she is smiling fondly. "Some things never change. But i dont worry anymore. Thanks to you."
Turning my attention back to the one remaining wine glass, i chuckle. "Believe me when i say that the pleasure is all mine."
"And i have to say," Marjorie straightens, discarding the tea towel onto the drying rack as i pull the plug from the sink. "You're very brave, letting him tour the way he is in the midst of a pregnancy."
"What?" My stomach drops so quickly and with such weight that i nearly sway on my feet, reaching subtly for purchase on the edge of the sink, im pretty sure that should i look into a mirror all of the blood will have drained from my face in a gush too.
"You know," Adopting a cloth and a bottle of Detol and beginning to wipe down the drying rack and surrounding damp area, Marjorie is oblivious to my oblivion. "You're brave for letting him tour while you're pregnant. Braver than me anyway, how far along will you be by the time that comes around? Six, seven months?"
I find the strength, from God knows where, to nod, muttering a distracted. "Yeah, something like that i think." And managing to take a deep breath, plastering on a smile just as Marjorie finishes her job and clasps her hands together.
"Well thats me done for the night!" My mother-in-law leans in, envelopes me in a tight hug, thanks me for inviting her to stay before she scurries out, leaving me all alone in my kitchen to reel in the news i have just been accidentally told.
Tour? But he'd be away for months.
When i slip back into the living room, enough time later that my cheeks have regained their colour, but not enough for the sickening feeling churning stomach to settle, i stand in the door way, waiting for a break in conversation. Im noticed pretty quickly. I cant usually go three seconds without Gary sensing my presence.
"You okay, babe?"
I swallow, even though my throat is bone dry, and as a result, my voice scratchy. "Yeah, um, could you come here a minute please?"
"Ay up!" Ian booms from the far side of the living room where he stands with my brother and Lisa, "Someone is in trouble!"
Gary ignores his brother, picking up is wine glass from the top of the piano and making his way over to me. I, however, try my best to offer Ian a polite smile before turning back into the kitchen.
"Everything okay?" Garys asks, following behind me.
"Yeah. Close the door." I turn just in time, leaning my bum against the kitchen island, to see him silently do what i ask.
"Libby, whats up?"
"Im going to ask you one question okay?" I swallow again, wishing i could have a glass of wine -Or a shot of Vodka- to help my shaky speech. "Simple Yes or No question, and i want you to give me a one hundred percent honest answer, okay?"
"Okay?.." Gary answers warily, setting his glass down on the worktop next to his resting hip.
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Taking a steadying breath, i nod. "Are you touring this summer?"
I watch, as if it were all happening in slow motion, as Garys face falls, one large hand coming to rub the space between his eyebrows, two long fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. His mouth opens long before he speaks.
"Not..Not a-such, no.."
"Not a-such?" I choke before im even sure that he's finished his sentence. "Not a-such?! Gary its a simple yes or no question!" My voice is so shrill i dont even recognise it as my own and my fingers claw desperately against the edge of the work surface i grip behind me.
"I know- no- i mean, nothing def- nothings decid-"
"We're off to bed now, Darling." My mothers unwelcome intrusion interrupts Garys explanation and he turns quickly to face her.
"Good night Alison -night Pete, you can find your room okay?"
"They can find it just fine." I snap, glaring past Gary and straight through to my mother, letting her know that shes interrupted something important, and that she better scarper- fast. She does so, all too willingly, leaving me once more stood, glaring at my husband. "Well?" I fold my arms restlessly across my chest. Garys eyes drop to the V-neck of my dress for a split second, but he knows better than to aggravate me now.
"Nothings definite. It'd only be a couple of gigs."
"And a couple of gigs entails what, Gary? Two, Three? I dont think so." I try to ignore the burning flush of panic creeping up my neck and scorching my flesh in its wake. And the white hot anger that melts through my stomach and courses into my bloodstream "I mean, of course, it would have to be fewer than ten, being as you cant have me wondering where you are because im getting suspicious because you didnt fucking tell me!"
"Lib!" Garys eyes widen and he turns quickly to look at the cream double doors separating the two of us from our veteran party guests. "Keep your voice down!"
"No!" I screech, childishly i'll admit; but it felt good.
Gary groans, flattening his hair as he runs a hand over it. "Who told you? Was it Ian?"
I gape then, more angry now, if even possible, than i was at the start of this conversation. "Ohh. Ian knew too did he? How about my parents? I know theyre off to bed now, but if youre fast enough you might just catch them before they turn the light out for the night!"
"Libby..." Gary warns, taking a slow step towards me. "You're over reacting, it would only be a few gigs across Europe, its just, they miss out on the bigger stuff, you know?"
Astounded, i gape, dumbfound, for a moment before i regain the ability to speak. "Europe?"
Garys eyes widen, clearly as he realises i was, in fact, in the dark about this insignificant factor. He swallows, but doesnt speak.
"Fucking Europe?! Im going to be seven months pregnant and youre going to be in Europe?! Have you lost your fucking mind?!"
Gary merely stares at me, his face as white as mine was only fifteen minutes ago. Concerned about my rocketing blood pressure, i attempt a calming breath, running my palms down the sides of my face.
"When were you going to tell me Gary?"
He swallows again.
"When?!"
"I dont know..." His voice is hoarse as he shakes his head, his gaze focused on locking his knuckles together rather than my face. "..didnt know how to tell you."
"Really?" I award him my best pantomime sigh. "How about; Hi babe, im thinking about touring Europe this summer. I know youll be seven months pregnant and trying to look after a three year old, but i really want to do it and they miss out on the bigger stuff so youre going to have to suck it up and deal with it!"
"Libby! Its not like that!"
"Who else knew Gary?!" I ignore the plea in his tone, and when he stares up at me like a deer caught in the headlights, it only prompts me to push again. "Gary, who. Else. Knew?" Making sure i enunciate each syllable, the way we both do when we're trying to teach Ethan a new word, i reach behind me again, feeling like i may need the support of the work surface to keep me upright.
"Tickets go on sale two weeks on Friday.." Gary mumbles, so quietly that i have to strain to hear him. "..thats the best way i can explain it."
The world seems to stop dead for a second as i stare across the kitchen at Gary, hoping against hope that this is some kind of sick joke and the whole of Europe didnt really find out that my husband is touring before i did.
"You've got to be kidding me." I push the words out on a menacingly soft exhale. Gary takes another slow step forward.
"Libby.." He wavers, trying both to gauge my reaction and delay the harrowing outburst that is about to befall him.
"Ohh!" I clasp my hands in front of my face, seemingly calmly and i applaud myself for not screeching at the top lungs right then and there. "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! So not only did your mother, Ian, Lisa, and a whole PR team know that you were planning on touring Europe before your wife did, but the whole of fucking Belgium knew too!"
"Libby!" Gary clears the space between us in under a second, standing close enough for me to smell the Tom Ford and red wine.
"Go away." I wave a hand in front of my face, cursing my hormones and hoping i can get him out of the room before my facade slips and my wet eyes loose a tear.
Gary doesnt move, instead he stands in front of me, seemingly looking around the kitchen for inspiration and rubbing the scruff of stubble at his chin. "No, we need to talk."
"Gary." My voice wavers as i work on a swallow. "Get. Out."
Pulled from my thoughts, i take a moment to answer, staring into the foam of bubbles swallowing my hands. "What, with the washing up?"
A quiet; "Um-huh." Is my answer, and i can only assume Gary is nodding too. I cant see him though, my hair hangs annoyingly in front of my face, bedraggled and un-kept until i have a dry and soap free hand spare to brush it over my shoulder with; i smirk behind it never the less. "When was the last time you hand-washed a dish?"
A long finger from behind me pulls my face free of my hair and i take the moment as a chance to glance across to Gary who is mindlessly running the tip of his left index finger around the rim of a wine glass. "Could be tonight?"
I go to tut, but an unmistakable bustling behind us halts me.
"Oh move out of the way will you, dear?" Marjorie brushes Gary out of the way as she comes, arms lavished with dishes, to the sink. "Youre neither use nor ornament standing there, i dont know.."
The elderly woman tusks, shaking her head and giving me a knowing look. I cant help but grin back, setting two glasses upside down on the drying rack. Gary, who has now come to stand at the end of the kitchen island, merely gapes at the both of us.
"Oi! I was offering to do the washing up there, mother!"
Marjorie, who has now busied herself with a tea towel and is beginning to dry the items next to the sink, makes another sound of utter disbelief and i laugh a little harder.
"I dont think so Gary, dear. Youve not washed a dish since at least 1993."
"Now thats not true and you know its not!" Gary gawks, but that simper tugging at the right hand corner of his mouth doesnt go unnoticed. Marjorie, however, is not impressed.
"Shoo!" She ushers, flapping the tea towel at her son in jest. "Go and do something useful, i think people are wanting more drink. Not for Alison, Peter and myself though, we're off to bed in a mo'."
Theres a heavy groan to our left as Gary heaves himself from the work surface hes been leaning on. "Yes, mother. Whatever you say, mother. Anything else, mother?"
Marjorie just shakes her head, either immune, or choosing to ignore the tone that drips with sarcasm. "No thank you, dear."
When Gary has finally found his way back into the living room, there is a moment of passing silence as Marjorie and i work at a steady rhythm of wash-pass-and-dry, the pile to the left of the sink quickly becoming smaller than the pile on the right. And, as much as i would rather be staring at Garys flexing biceps as he dries the plates, im pretty sure that Marjorie can do it ten times faster than he would ever be able to and i am grateful of her help.
"Youre good for him, you know?" The womans voice pulls me from my momentary daydream.
"Sorry?"
"Gary, you're good for him. Better than you realise." Marjorie doesnt look at me as she speaks, and so i keep my eyes focused on scrubbing at the, already gleaming, wineglass in my hand, caught more than a little off guard by the direction of this conversation.
"You think?" Is the only real response i can think to give. Today is fast becoming a day of DMC's with OAPs'.
"Oh yes. Most certainly. You keep him grounded, -you and Ethan. I used to worry about his ego like you wouldnt believe."
Just the mention of my husbands ego is enough to turn my lips into a slow smile. "Oh its still there you know."
"I dare say it is," Marjorie turns, only the smallest amount, and i when i look up she is smiling fondly. "Some things never change. But i dont worry anymore. Thanks to you."
Turning my attention back to the one remaining wine glass, i chuckle. "Believe me when i say that the pleasure is all mine."
"And i have to say," Marjorie straightens, discarding the tea towel onto the drying rack as i pull the plug from the sink. "You're very brave, letting him tour the way he is in the midst of a pregnancy."
"What?" My stomach drops so quickly and with such weight that i nearly sway on my feet, reaching subtly for purchase on the edge of the sink, im pretty sure that should i look into a mirror all of the blood will have drained from my face in a gush too.
"You know," Adopting a cloth and a bottle of Detol and beginning to wipe down the drying rack and surrounding damp area, Marjorie is oblivious to my oblivion. "You're brave for letting him tour while you're pregnant. Braver than me anyway, how far along will you be by the time that comes around? Six, seven months?"
I find the strength, from God knows where, to nod, muttering a distracted. "Yeah, something like that i think." And managing to take a deep breath, plastering on a smile just as Marjorie finishes her job and clasps her hands together.
"Well thats me done for the night!" My mother-in-law leans in, envelopes me in a tight hug, thanks me for inviting her to stay before she scurries out, leaving me all alone in my kitchen to reel in the news i have just been accidentally told.
Tour? But he'd be away for months.
When i slip back into the living room, enough time later that my cheeks have regained their colour, but not enough for the sickening feeling churning stomach to settle, i stand in the door way, waiting for a break in conversation. Im noticed pretty quickly. I cant usually go three seconds without Gary sensing my presence.
"You okay, babe?"
I swallow, even though my throat is bone dry, and as a result, my voice scratchy. "Yeah, um, could you come here a minute please?"
"Ay up!" Ian booms from the far side of the living room where he stands with my brother and Lisa, "Someone is in trouble!"
Gary ignores his brother, picking up is wine glass from the top of the piano and making his way over to me. I, however, try my best to offer Ian a polite smile before turning back into the kitchen.
"Everything okay?" Garys asks, following behind me.
"Yeah. Close the door." I turn just in time, leaning my bum against the kitchen island, to see him silently do what i ask.
"Libby, whats up?"
"Im going to ask you one question okay?" I swallow again, wishing i could have a glass of wine -Or a shot of Vodka- to help my shaky speech. "Simple Yes or No question, and i want you to give me a one hundred percent honest answer, okay?"
"Okay?.." Gary answers warily, setting his glass down on the worktop next to his resting hip.
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Taking a steadying breath, i nod. "Are you touring this summer?"
I watch, as if it were all happening in slow motion, as Garys face falls, one large hand coming to rub the space between his eyebrows, two long fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. His mouth opens long before he speaks.
"Not..Not a-such, no.."
"Not a-such?" I choke before im even sure that he's finished his sentence. "Not a-such?! Gary its a simple yes or no question!" My voice is so shrill i dont even recognise it as my own and my fingers claw desperately against the edge of the work surface i grip behind me.
"I know- no- i mean, nothing def- nothings decid-"
"We're off to bed now, Darling." My mothers unwelcome intrusion interrupts Garys explanation and he turns quickly to face her.
"Good night Alison -night Pete, you can find your room okay?"
"They can find it just fine." I snap, glaring past Gary and straight through to my mother, letting her know that shes interrupted something important, and that she better scarper- fast. She does so, all too willingly, leaving me once more stood, glaring at my husband. "Well?" I fold my arms restlessly across my chest. Garys eyes drop to the V-neck of my dress for a split second, but he knows better than to aggravate me now.
"Nothings definite. It'd only be a couple of gigs."
"And a couple of gigs entails what, Gary? Two, Three? I dont think so." I try to ignore the burning flush of panic creeping up my neck and scorching my flesh in its wake. And the white hot anger that melts through my stomach and courses into my bloodstream "I mean, of course, it would have to be fewer than ten, being as you cant have me wondering where you are because im getting suspicious because you didnt fucking tell me!"
"Lib!" Garys eyes widen and he turns quickly to look at the cream double doors separating the two of us from our veteran party guests. "Keep your voice down!"
"No!" I screech, childishly i'll admit; but it felt good.
Gary groans, flattening his hair as he runs a hand over it. "Who told you? Was it Ian?"
I gape then, more angry now, if even possible, than i was at the start of this conversation. "Ohh. Ian knew too did he? How about my parents? I know theyre off to bed now, but if youre fast enough you might just catch them before they turn the light out for the night!"
"Libby..." Gary warns, taking a slow step towards me. "You're over reacting, it would only be a few gigs across Europe, its just, they miss out on the bigger stuff, you know?"
Astounded, i gape, dumbfound, for a moment before i regain the ability to speak. "Europe?"
Garys eyes widen, clearly as he realises i was, in fact, in the dark about this insignificant factor. He swallows, but doesnt speak.
"Fucking Europe?! Im going to be seven months pregnant and youre going to be in Europe?! Have you lost your fucking mind?!"
Gary merely stares at me, his face as white as mine was only fifteen minutes ago. Concerned about my rocketing blood pressure, i attempt a calming breath, running my palms down the sides of my face.
"When were you going to tell me Gary?"
He swallows again.
"When?!"
"I dont know..." His voice is hoarse as he shakes his head, his gaze focused on locking his knuckles together rather than my face. "..didnt know how to tell you."
"Really?" I award him my best pantomime sigh. "How about; Hi babe, im thinking about touring Europe this summer. I know youll be seven months pregnant and trying to look after a three year old, but i really want to do it and they miss out on the bigger stuff so youre going to have to suck it up and deal with it!"
"Libby! Its not like that!"
"Who else knew Gary?!" I ignore the plea in his tone, and when he stares up at me like a deer caught in the headlights, it only prompts me to push again. "Gary, who. Else. Knew?" Making sure i enunciate each syllable, the way we both do when we're trying to teach Ethan a new word, i reach behind me again, feeling like i may need the support of the work surface to keep me upright.
"Tickets go on sale two weeks on Friday.." Gary mumbles, so quietly that i have to strain to hear him. "..thats the best way i can explain it."
The world seems to stop dead for a second as i stare across the kitchen at Gary, hoping against hope that this is some kind of sick joke and the whole of Europe didnt really find out that my husband is touring before i did.
"You've got to be kidding me." I push the words out on a menacingly soft exhale. Gary takes another slow step forward.
"Libby.." He wavers, trying both to gauge my reaction and delay the harrowing outburst that is about to befall him.
"Ohh!" I clasp my hands in front of my face, seemingly calmly and i applaud myself for not screeching at the top lungs right then and there. "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! So not only did your mother, Ian, Lisa, and a whole PR team know that you were planning on touring Europe before your wife did, but the whole of fucking Belgium knew too!"
"Libby!" Gary clears the space between us in under a second, standing close enough for me to smell the Tom Ford and red wine.
"Go away." I wave a hand in front of my face, cursing my hormones and hoping i can get him out of the room before my facade slips and my wet eyes loose a tear.
Gary doesnt move, instead he stands in front of me, seemingly looking around the kitchen for inspiration and rubbing the scruff of stubble at his chin. "No, we need to talk."
"Gary." My voice wavers as i work on a swallow. "Get. Out."
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