He kisses Agata’s slender neck, her skin as pale and fine as his favourite china tea mug, and then her breasts, and her smooth, flat belly.
He wants her. He really wants her. She is breathing heavily, and they’re kissing again on the mouth, and then – oh God, it’s going to happen and he is powerless to stop it – she climbs on top and straddles him.
He looks up at her, thoughts crashing through his brain. Well, Kate left him and hotfooted it to Scotland without telling him and he doesn’t know when she’s coming back. Maybe it’s all over and she’ll want a divorce and why shouldn’t he sleep with Agata, as they’re both consenting adults? Yes, he’s still married in theory and she’s married in – well, she’smarried. But look at her now, so beautiful sitting on top of him and he’s so horny and wants her so, so much, and never mind Dr Kemp and the fact that this is the sofa his mum chose from DFS about twenty-seven years ago. He’s an adult man, he has needs and he’s tremendously excited and—
Arf-arf-arf-arf-arf-arf-arf!In a cacophony of barking Jarvis runs in.
‘Oh, my God,’ Agata gasps.
‘Jarv, out. Out!’ Vince commands. Jarvis stares up at them, then turns around and plods dejectedly out of the room.
‘What made him do that?’ Agata asks. She’s still straddling him but it feels somewhat ridiculous now.
‘I don’t know,’ Vince starts. ‘Some noise maybe. Some frequency only dogs can detect...’
They look at each other and, for a moment, neither of them says anything. Then Agata’s expression turns to one of resigned acceptance. ‘Aww,’ she murmurs. Then: ‘Never mind.’ Is anything worse, Vince reflects, than hearing those words just as you’re about to do it? As if you’ve scraped your knee and need a plaster on it? She bends to kiss him lightly on the lips. But it’s no good. The moment has been lost and now, on top of the rude interruption, Vince is thinking that Agata’s his neighbour and fucking hell –they nearly shagged on the sofa in his house.
Agata clambers off him as if dismounting her bicycle. ‘Sorry,’ he mutters. ‘It was just a bit distracting, Jarvis running in like that.’
She sighs and smiles acceptingly, and reaches for her plain white knickers and bra and quickly pulls them on. Her dress and cardigan follow. She smooths down her hair with the palms of her hands. Vince gets up, retrieves his boxers from over by the TV and pulls them on, hoping to convey aWell, that’s thatkind of message. To put a full stop to that crazy little episode there.
Maybe they can both pretend it never happened.
‘Don’t worry, Vince,’ she offers.
‘It’s fine. I’m not worried,’ he insists, blushing madly and pulling on his jeans and T-shirt. He looks around for his socks. Where the hell are his socks?
‘It happens to most guys sometimes,’ she adds.
He blinks at her, aware that he’s still blushing, which seems ridiculous considering he was kissing her breasts moments ago. ‘I, er... it’s never...’
‘D’you know you don’t have to go to the doctor for it anymore?’
The word ‘doctor’ is like a massive alarm going off in his head. ‘For what?’ he manages, trying to avoid her gaze.
‘For...youknow. Little blue pills.Viagra.You can get them over the counter now—’
Vince feels as if he has fallen through a hole into some alternative, terrible universe in which Agata Kemp – who he was on the brink of having sex with – is reassuring him that it won’t be necessary to consult with her husband about his erectile difficulties.
He doesn’t have erectile difficulties! He never has in his life! Well, not unless he’s had a skinful and that happens to every bloke; it doesn’tmeananything. But try to remain fully excited on the very sofa where he and his wife have sat drinking wine and nibbling Wotsits and devoured all four seasons ofSuccession, with a spaniel barking at them? Try being some kind of super-stud in those kind of conditions?
‘I don’t think I need anything,’ he murmurs, ‘apart from my socks.’
Agata smirks, finding them partially disappeared under the sofa, and pulls on her shoes, the Daisy Janes or whatever they’re called. Vince inhales deeply to steady himself as she pecks him lightly on the cheek and says, ‘That was fun. Naughty us!’
‘Ha-ha, yeah,’ he says without humour.
A beat’s silence hangs. ‘Well, I’d better get home.’
‘Yes!’ he says, too eagerly. She trots through to his study to fetch her dinky little toolkit. Aware of sweat beading on his forehead, Vince hovers awkwardly in the hallway, waiting for her to leave. Agata opens the front door and steps outside.
‘Let me know if you need any other flatpack erecting,’ she quips with a grin before sauntering off down the street.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Kate
October is beautiful here. Forests are dusted with copper and gold, and although visitors still come, the town has taken on a sleepier quality. Curls of woodsmoke fill the crisp, cold air and frost sparkles on the ground on our walks.
