Page 31 of A Midlife Marriage

‘1999.’

Helen turned. ‘Really?’

‘Yes.’ Caro waved her arm. ‘And hello! Why do you think it was invented?’

‘Well, that’s easy.’ Kay smiled. ‘So, men could keep an erection.’

‘Ta dah! And who is making a fortune from it?’

‘Men with erections?’ Helen picked up her glass.

‘Men with erections, making money from men keeping erections?’ Kay said, and the three of them looked at each other and burst out laughing.

‘It’s true though,’ Helen shook her head. ‘Viagra has been around for ages. Everyone knows about it. But topical HRT.’ She turned to Kay. ‘Have you even heard of that? It’s a cream you can get for … and it sort of … well, rejuvenates it.’

‘Rejuvenates?’ Kay frowned. She could recite maths equations that were two pages long, do complicated long-division in her head, but there were parts of her body, she was beginning to realise, she had simply come to accept she would never see again. The back of her knees for example, her vagina, definitely. It was a sealed vault, an abandoned mineshaft that hadn’t seen the light of day, or human contact, for many years. But she was the same age as Caro and Helen, and a year younger than Marianne. And the idea of a secret key that might open a part of her she thought had been permanently sealed was all sorts of things: intriguing, scary, exciting. ‘Topical HRT?’ she murmured, her glass at her lips.

‘Vibrators too.’ Caro tipped her glass.

‘What!’

‘I bought one in America,’ Helen said.

‘I’ve used one too,’ Caro added.

‘Oh …’ Kay shifted her weight. ‘Oh,’ she said again, feeling the heat of embarrassment spread up her neck and across her cheeks. This conversation was a rollercoaster and with anyone other than Helen and Caro, she would have stopped the ride and stepped off. Then again, with anyone else she wouldn’t have got on in the first place. ‘Marianne,’ she said quietly, ‘is on Tinder. ‘

Helen laughed. ‘Now that doesn’t surprise me.’

‘She has what she calls “friends with benefits”.’

Caro nodded.

‘Really?’ Kay looked from one to the other. ‘You’re not shocked?’

Helen shook her head. ‘Are you?’

‘No … and yes.’ Kay looked at them. ‘I don’t know!’ She was thinking of the photograph Marianne had shown her. The image of a woman in her prime, a handsome, confident, experienced woman. A woman who had cropped an ex-lover out of the frame. What did she think? She still didn’t know, in fact the only thing she did know was that she could never be that woman. And never could have been. She was the kind of woman who had worn dungarees all through university. CND t-shirts and Doc Martens.All of which was OK, because at twenty you can wear anything and still have sex. But now? Who was going to look at a grey-haired woman in size eighteen jeans now? She was shaking her head, because when she thought about it, she found she wasn’t shocked. And she was shaking her head because when she thought about it, she found it was a shame. But somewhere along the line she had mislaid her sexuality and hadn’t noticed, and now that she had, it was simply too late. Like neglecting to water a pot-plant for a decade.

‘Why not though?’ Helen’s voice broke her chain of thought. ‘She’s not looking for a hero, or a sperm donor. Just some fun. I understand what she’s doing.’

‘Some intimacy.’ Caro nodded.

Kay pressed her lips together. ‘A cuddle would be nice,’ she said wistfully.

No-one spoke. Helen looked at Caro and Caro looked back at Helen and across the table, Kay looked at both of them. ‘No,’ she said and shook her head. ‘Oh no. I couldn’t … I mean Ireallycouldn’t.’

‘You really could, Kay,’ Helen said.

‘Are you on it?’

Helen smiled.

‘You are!’ Caro cried.

‘I downloaded it in the States, but I haven’t had time to do more than just chat with a couple of people.’

‘You’ve chatted?’ Kay said. ‘You can chat to people?’

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