Strictly My Husband: It's funny, it's romantic and it's got dancing - what's not to love! (8 page)

‘Yes, I do need some air,’ Tom said, leaping up and gathering his papers at rapid speed. ‘Been feeling a bit odd all morning, to be honest. Thank you, Hazel. You are so right. I need fresh air.’ He was already walking to the door as fast as he could when she called after him.

‘I’ll drop by your office later and take you through the Y2H Health Benefits Rights Form and the Casual Dress Awareness Review Away Day that you need to prepare for,’ she shouted.

‘Thanks, Haze.’ He waved over his shoulder. ‘If I’m not there then talk Amy through it.’

He shut the heavy door behind him and leant against it, heaving a sigh of relief. He turned round and peered though a small glass pane three-quarters of the way up. Hazel was already in full flow, undeterred by the blank looks being directed her way. Sam was waving two fingers at Tom out of Hazel’s eyeline whilst trying to look as though he was listening. Tom gave him a thumbs up and dashed back to his office.

‘Good meeting?’ asked Amy, when he banged his notepad on the desk and reached for his coat.

Tom grinned. ‘Excellent. Hazel gave me a pass-out.’

‘What!’ exclaimed Amy. ‘Doesn’t sound like the old bat.’

‘She thought I might pass out so she gave me a pass-out. Best meeting ever.’

‘Oh,’ Amy grunted, before looking back at her computer. She looked different today but Tom couldn’t work out why. ‘Louise rang,’ she added. ‘She’s refusing to use fishnet stockings for the female sexy zombie costumes. She says it’s sexist and against her feminist principles. And that we as a market leader should be making a stand and not succumbing to traditional stereotypes.’

Tom stared at Amy, at a loss at what to say. Amy blinked back at him expectantly. When he didn’t reply she put the words in his mouth as she quite often did.

‘I told her to put the male zombies in fishnets as well.’

‘Genius,’ exclaimed Tom. ‘What did she say?’

‘She said that wasn’t the point she was making.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said if she had a problem with costume design then perhaps she shouldn’t work in costume?’

Tom nodded. ‘Again, genius.’

‘And perhaps she should therefore consider herself more suited to a position serving hamburgers since there is nothing remotely sexy or sexist about a polo shirt, elasticated trousers and a hairnet.’

Tom gasped. ‘What did she say to that?’

‘She put the phone down on me.’

‘Amy,’ declared Tom, putting his hand on her shoulder, ‘an excellent morning’s work.’

Amy blushed slightly and shrugged, pretending to scrutinise something on her screen.

‘Right, seeing as you’ve got it all under control here, I’m going on park,’ Tom told her, grabbing a litter-picker. ‘To, er, go and check out how the Halloween set build is coming along.’

‘Say hello to Jerry,’ said Amy, turning to face him.

‘How do you know I’m going to see Jerry?’

‘Because you only take a litter-picker if you are skiving off somewhere but want to look like you are busy and still willing to muck in with everyone and pick up litter. If you’re really going out to do something you don’t bother.’

Tom looked down at the metal extended claw in his hand. How come he was so transparent? He carefully put it back in the corner.

‘I’m going out to see how the building of the Halloween set is coming along,’ he repeated.

‘Say hello to Jerry,’ replied Amy.

‘I will,’ he said and left at speed for the second time that morning.

It took Tom fifteen minutes to walk across the park to a wooded area located next to the Wonderland Hotel. There was six-foot-high hoarding surrounding the area and an intimidating number of men walking around in hard hats and yellow high-visibility jackets. There had been much cause for celebration when Jerry’s firm had secured the contract to build twenty-five woodland lodges for guests who wished to extend their stay on park. Tom was delighted
that he suddenly had a bolt-hole he could disappear to when his work got too depressing and Jerry was very happy to have a project so close to home. He was taking full advantage of being able to legitimately escape the office on the edge of town and avoid any administrative duties that Hannah tried to put in his path.

As Tom walked through the site-access gate he bent his head low, trying to avoid all eye contact with the hard-hat men scattered everywhere. However many times he visited, he never stopped feeling less of a man when he stepped into the macho environment of the building site. He was so intimidated by those who could do the manly things he couldn’t – like drive an enormous beast of a digger when he could barely work a domestic drill. As they strutted around in their steel-toecapped boots and neon jackets he knew what they were thinking: that you’re not a real man if your job doesn’t require you to wear a hi-vis vest.

Tom tiptoed around the huge muddy tracks in his immaculately polished, on-trend brown brogues and prayed that he wouldn’t fall over. The humiliation, surrounded by so much testosterone, would be too much to bear. Breathing a sigh of relief, he reached the Portakabin which acted as the site office and hoped that it would be empty apart from Jerry and he wouldn’t get the an-alien-has-landed looks from the real workers.

Thankfully Jerry was sitting there alone with his steel toecaps up on an untidy makeshift desk, his red hard hat set at a jaunty angle and a mobile phone glued to his ear.

He motioned Tom to take a seat and stood up, hauling his canvas trousers up over his protruding belly. Somehow, despite his outfit, Jerry never intimidated Tom. Probably because Tom knew that Jerry never really got out there and dirtied his hands doing the real work. Jerry was definitely the outward face of the company; his skills lay in schmoozing prospective clients rather than any of the actual heavy lifting.

‘You are an utter dog,’ cackled Jerry into the phone. ‘And a dirty dog at that. If I’d been Kempy I’d have left you there, I can tell you. At least until you’d dried out . . .

‘No way was I as bad, you lying fucker,’ he continued down the line after a comment. ‘I was completely sober . . .

‘Fuck off. I never did that, did I?’ Jerry collapsed in hysterics. ‘Pair of dirty dogs, you’re right. Now, I can’t waste any more of my extremely valuable time chatting with you, my next appointment’s just arrived.’ He winked at Tom.

‘Yes, it’s someone way more important than you. Now piss off and I’ll get the office to send those contracts out today. See you. Bye.’

‘Who was that?’ asked Tom, wandering over to a site plan on the wall.

‘Richard Marsh. Ops Director for Horncliffe Hotels. I think I hooked him for another new build during that shooting thing I went to at the weekend.’

‘Good.’ Tom nodded. ‘When do you reckon our chalets will be done then?’

‘Chalets!’ exclaimed Jerry. ‘We don’t build chalets, Tom, these are dreams. This development is fulfilling every middle-class family’s desire to shell out a fortune to stay in a wooden shed.’

Tom smiled.

‘Honestly, this project is the most bonkers thing I have worked on,’ Jerry said in amazement. ‘All our conversations are about de-speccing to fit in with this so called “Rustic Theme”. We’ve downgraded the toilets three times and your bosses still aren’t happy. But it’s hard to source a rustic toilet. Where would you go for a rustic toilet?’

‘The loos in the Celebration Theatre could be described as rustic, if not decrepit. Take one of them out and show them. Put new loos in the theatre.’

‘Do you know what? I might,’ said Jerry, getting up. ‘Rustic toilets – I ask you. Tea?’

‘Yeah, decaf please.’ The minute he said it he knew he’d made a mistake.

‘For fuck’s sake, Tom, decaf?’

‘I know, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.’ He looked around the empty room nervously in case anyone else had overheard his error. ‘I’ll have whatever you’re having.’

‘Obviously,’ replied Jerry, sloshing hot water out of a filthy kettle over two teabags in enormous mugs. ‘So did you get my text?’ he asked.

‘Which one?’

‘The one I sent you on Saturday morning.’

Tom cast his mind back. Jerry was a prolific texter. If his ear wasn’t
glued to his phone his finger was. ‘Doesn’t really narrow it down,’ he said.

‘Why do you never reply to my texts?’ asked Jerry.

‘Because I need time to eat and sleep and have a life.’

Jerry threw him a confused look, picked up his phone and started to scroll through it.

‘It said:
What a night. How the bloody hell have you got away with that you sly dog?
’

‘And what is
that
referring to?’ asked Tom. This was exactly why Tom chose to ignore most of Jerry’s texts: they often came with no explanation for whatever was going through Jerry’s mind.

‘Carly, of course,’ he said, slamming down Tom’s tea in front of him. ‘I have to say I’m seriously impressed, mate. Takes some balls, that does.’

‘What does?’

‘Are you serious? Moving a hot piece of stuff in like that. Under your wife’s nose. Fucking awesome. I told all the guys at the shoot about it; they literally took their deerstalkers off to you. You are a fucking legend.’ Jerry raised his mug to chink against Tom’s. Tom stared back at him.

‘She had nowhere to stay.’ He picked up his mug and instantly scalded his lips. ‘We’re just helping her out, that’s all.’

‘Well, helping her out of something is what I’d like to do.’

‘Jerry. Do you have to?’

‘Oh come on, Tom, you can’t say it hasn’t crossed your mind, seriously? She’s a babe.’

Tom shrugged, blowing on his tea. ‘OK, she’s pretty, I guess.’

‘Are you real?’ replied Jerry. ‘She’s stunning, and . . . and her moves when she was dancing – oh my God – in your dining room, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven for a minute there.’

‘Well, I guess I’m around dancers all the time so you kind of get used to all that.’

‘What, the near-nakedness, the perfect bodies, the sheer . . .
bendiness
– you can’t get used to that, surely? That decaf shit must be doing something to your manhood.’

Tom couldn’t deny that the odd exciting thought did pop into his brain every now and then but he thought he’d learnt to shove them to one side and
get on with the job.

‘They’re just people like you and me.’

‘If I had a body like that I’d love myself even more than I do now.’

‘Not possible,’ said Tom, shaking his head.

‘But fair play to you, mate, for getting her in the door past Laura. Oh my God, what I would have given to see her face when you arrived home with that.’

‘She’s totally fine about it. Sure, she was a bit upset that I didn’t ask her first but apart from that she’s chuffed to bits with the extra money and it’s not for long anyway.’

‘She really thinks that?’ asked Jerry.

‘Yes. She’s absolutely fine. No problem with it at all.’

‘Not even the fact that Carly looks frighteningly like Natalie?’

‘She doesn’t look a bit like Natalie.’

‘Oh come on, Tom, she’s the image of her. Must be freaking Laura out that you’ve brought a younger version of your ex-fiancée into the marital home.’

‘She doesn’t look anything like her and so what if she did. Natalie’s history: you know that; Laura knows that. Don’t know why you’re even bringing her up.’

‘She still sending you Christmas cards?’

‘Yeah.’ Tom shrugged again. ‘It’s just a Christmas card.’

‘Does Laura know she still sends you a Christmas card?’

‘No. I don’t see the point in having to raise the subject of Natalie every flipping year for no reason. The card comes to work, I open it, read what she’s been up to then put it in the bin.’

‘Right.’ Jerry nodded. ‘Mmmmm.’

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ asked Tom. ‘I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m helping someone out and you’re acting as if I’ve invited the leaders of al-Qaeda to move in.’

Jerry shook his head and drew his breath in through his teeth. ‘This is women we’re talking about,’ he said. ‘A known terrorist moving in may have been preferable to a beautiful woman.’

‘You’re worrying about nothing,’ said Tom. ‘Besides, I have other hopes
for Carly.’

Jerry’s eyes flew wide open.

‘Will,’ declared Tom.

‘Will!’

‘Yes, Will,’ replied Tom.

‘ . . . and Carly?’

‘Yeah.’ Tom nodded vigorously. ‘He needs a woman. I’m worried about him.’

‘He needs a shag is what he needs.’

‘Has he mentioned a girlfriend at all?’ asked Tom.

Jerry shook his head. ‘Four-eyes Chloe was all over him for a while. You know, who does the accounts in the office?’

‘You’ve mentioned her in a derogatory manner before, I believe.’

‘She’s such a nag and she looks over her specs at me in a weird way when I don’t have the paperwork she wants.’

‘So she’s just trying to do her job?’

‘Well, yes, but I’m paying her and I certainly don’t pay her to nag me. Anyway, when I got Will a desk in the office so he had somewhere to do his paperwork, Chloe looked like all her Christmases had come at once. She was all over him. It was great, got her off my back for a bit. I told him he should take advantage and he looked at me like I’d told him to stick his hands in a cement mixer.’

Tom shook his head. ‘Perhaps he’s got one on the go and not told me. I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s can be very secretive. I don’t know half of what he’s up to at times. Mum rings me if she wants to know what he’s doing – not that I’m much help.’

‘Well, I’ve not spotted him making a fuss of anyone at work,’ said Jerry.

‘Unlike you, you mean,’ said Tom. ‘Fussing up to anything on two legs despite the fact you’re married. You were a bit full on with Carly on Friday night if I’m honest, even for your standards.’

‘Blah.’ Jerry threw his hands up. ‘That’s just me, isn’t it? I don’t mean anything by it. Hannah knows what she signed up for.’

‘Yes, well, I’d prefer it if it was Will giving her the eye and not you. I think she’s just what Will needs. If she can’t get him interested then no one
can.’

Jerry raised his eyebrows at Tom. ‘Whatever it is you’re trying to achieve with this apparently innocent move – inviting a beautiful stranger into your house – it’s got trouble written all over it. Major trouble.’ Jerry stood and picked up the empty mugs. ‘But you clearly know what you’re doing,’ he added with a grin. ‘And I will personally enjoy the company of the gorgeous Carly until it all blows up in your face. Friday night at ours as usual then?’