Page 83 of Textbook Romance

‘ZOE!’ another little voice interrupts. It’s George. My kids’ eyes bounce between these two little kids. There are two of them, Mum. What’s happening? The problem is you think I’m probably friends or more with this man and his twin sons. I don’t know if the truth is worse. ‘Were you here to see Uncle Jack?’ George continues.

Even the sound of Jack’s name makes me blush. Mainly because last night I was sexting him at midnight. What we have remains the most illicit yet charming of liaisons and still not something to talk about here.

‘Oh no, this is my son, Dylan, and we came to watch him play football. This is Lottie, my daughter and this is…’ I don’t know how to label Brian anymore. He’s still legally a husband, not quite an ex, not quite a friend. ‘This is Brian.’ He’s just Brian.

I notice Dom’s tired brain and memory sifting through the details of my family arrangement and trying to piece it all together, trying to show them all some civility. I guess he’ll know as much as Jack has told him. He pauses when he goes to shake Brian’s hand that tells me he knows something about our relationship. Brian seems cautious if very, very curious. I need to say something.

‘No one ate the oranges I brought, Dom. I’ll have to eat these all myself now,’ a voice sounds and I know who it is immediately. He did tell me he was going to watch his nephews play but I didn’t think to ask him where that would be. I inhale deeply to hear his voice but can’t quite focus knowing all my worlds have collided on this very muddy, cold football pitch. ‘Zoe?’ he says, a huge beam hitting his face to see me. I see him coming in to hug me but I angle my body so he can’t get close. I won’t be able to cope with the spark of that physical contact. He senses something’s up and looks around. Yes, Jack. Look who’s around. Oh, shit. And with that he just puts a hand to my shoulder.

‘Look at you in your football gear.’

‘I look like a Womble, Jack. I know.’

He laughs before we realise where we both are, and the many pairs of eyes we have on us.

‘You’re Jack?’ Dylan says out loud.

Dylan has spoken to Jack on the phone. He knows it’s Jack’s friends who gave him a lift to Birmingham, but I guess he expected someone different. Someone older? Because there are no farmer vibes here. It’s a tracksuit, football boots and a long puffa coat, a beanie stylishly finishing off the look.

‘I am. Dylan?’ Jack puts out his hand and Dylan goes over to shake it. ‘I remember your mum telling me you played. How’d you get on today?’

‘We won two-one.’

‘And Dyl scored,’ Lottie adds. ‘I’m Lottie,’ she says, less keen to offer out her hand. Her eyes study him cautiously.

‘Of course. I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘All good, obvs.’

‘Obvs.’

She laughs in response which is a relief given it’s Lottie. She scans him up and down, assessing the ‘fit’ as she does. Jack looks at me, waiting. I am not quite sure what I’m supposed to do. This doesn’t feel like the time and place to fill you in on how we are all connected. I look down at Jack’s nephews, standing by their dad, stuffing sweets in their face and carefully watching all these exchanges. Please, boys. Please don’t say I’m Jack’s girlfriend and that I told you I’d rather have a giant eye than two noses.

‘So, Jack is a teacher at my school, Dom is his brother, and these two cuties are Dom’s boys,’ I explain for clarity. ‘I did go to their party, and it was brilliant.’

‘You went to Laser Tag?’ Lottie asks me, curiously.

‘I returned a favour. They needed more adults to supervise.’

Dom furrows his brow. He can see George about to say something and hands him another bag of sweets to divert his attention. I notice Brian taking it all in quietly. I can tell he can’t quite believe that cover story. ‘You’re the Jack who helped Dyl in Manchester?’ Jack turns to Brian and whilst they’ve never met, I know he’s worked out who he is. Please, Jack. Not here. Brian outstretches his hand, and I may have an aneurysm. ‘Then thank you for helping him out, mate.’

Mate. God, you wouldn’t be calling him that if you knew the things he’d done to me, that we’d done to each other. For a moment, a cold winter’s morning feels positively balmy, my scarf feels like a noose.

‘Brian,’ Jack says, still gripping on to his hand. Please let it go. Their eyes meet.

‘Yeah. I’m Zoe’s husband.’

Fuck. Does Brian know? He knows it’s more than favours. Yet what an awful and territorial thing to say over someone who isn’t yours anymore. Over someone who didn’t even want me. I hope my completely bemused look tells him that much.

‘But not anymore, right?’ Jack replies.

Lottie smirks but I see her huddled into her brother for support, for comfort, both of them trying to work out this man. Brian looks like he doesn’t know what to say. I swear the earth has stopped spinning.

‘JACK!’ Dom interrupts, sensing the awkwardness has reached its peak. He puts a hand to his brother’s arm. ‘Uncle Jack, we’ve got to get these boys in a hot bath.’ Barney goes over to get in between them and offers Jack a sweet. He smiles and takes it. The boys run over to me and unsure of what to do, I let them both hug my legs and get my coat smothered in mud. ‘See you soon, Zoe,’ they say before running off towards the car park.

‘Bye kids, see you soon.’

‘Dom has a point,’ Jack says, his gaze still piercing Brian’s. ‘Zoe,’ he adds, turning to me. Please don’t look at me like that. Because it’s a look of concern, possibly some confusion to have met the four of us out together like some sort of happy family. But there’s also some resigned sadness there that I can’t be honest about who he is to me, what we are, that I can’t communicate all the emotion I feel for him, that I can’t tell Brian, Lottie and Dylan that this is Jack. Jack who has loved me, held me and pieced me back together these last few months. Jack who communicates with me via emojis and Post It notes in my work pigeonhole. Jack who I think I may be in love with. ‘I will see you on Monday at school. Lovely to meet you all.’

---