What became of us

earth I’m going to wear.’ She wandered into the bathroom where Barry was now giving George his bath.
    ‘Why don’t you go and buy yourself something new?’
    ‘It’s tomorrow,’ she said impatiently.
    He glanced at his wet left wrist, and then at the watch that he had taken off and placed on the side of the sink.
    ‘There’s time. The shops are still open. Treat yourself. Put it on AmEx. I’ll pay.’
    ‘No...’
    ‘Why not? Go on...’
    She thought of the heap of sombre clothes on their bed.
    ‘Will you get the boys to bed?’
    ‘Of course I will.’
    ‘Mummy, you’re not going to be away too long, are you?’ George asked as Barry squeezed a spongeful of warm water over his shoulders.
    ‘No, I’m not going to be away too long.’
    She watched as he flopped onto his front and tried to swim. His body was almost as long as the bath. Without her really noticing, he had changed from a toddler into a little boy.
    ‘Is that a whale in there?’ she joked.
    ‘No,’ he said firmly, sitting up again, ‘it a boy.’
    Barry laughed, and so George laughed too, understanding that he had said something funny, but not why.
    ‘You’re not going to be away so long?’ he asked again, not yet able to distinguish between so and too.
    ‘No, not long at all. I’m just going to buy a dress.’
    ‘No, I mean tomorrow,’ he said impatiently, as if she had deliberately misunderstood him.
    ‘Just one night.’
    His face crumpled dramatically. The little boy changed back into a baby.
    ‘You will look after Daddy?’ she asked quickly, trying to get a distracting question in before he began to howl.
    ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m too young. Chris and Luke can look after Daddy. I don’t feel very well.’ He put on a sad little voice.
    It was pure emotional blackmail. She wished she had not put the idea of looking after into his head.
    ‘You’ll be able to go to football with Chris and Luke and Daddy,’ she suggested.
    Normally, Barry took the older boys to football while she looked after George on Saturday mornings. She was well aware which option he would prefer, given the choice.
    ‘Football!’ he shouted as Barry picked him out of the bath.
    ‘Go on,’ Barry told her.
    ‘I’m going,’ she said, but was somehow unable to tear herself away from the comforting domesticity of the steamy bathroom.
    ‘Why can’t I come with you?’ George asked, as Barry began to towel his hair dry.
    ‘Because it’s a grown-ups’ thing.’
    ‘But Saskia and Lily are going to be there. They’re little girls.’
    ‘Well, that’s different.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘It’s too far to take you, I’m afraid. It’s a long way.’
    ‘Not too long...’
    ‘No, not too long.’
    ‘Not so long...’
    ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ said Barry, kindly.
    She left them to it.
    ‘Half an hour before bathtime,’ she said, putting her head round the door of the older boys’ room. ‘Oh Mum, it’s Friday!’
    ‘OK, an hour, then.’
    Neither looked up from the computer game.

    It was still sunny outside. The unexpectedness of starting the car and pulling out of their drive at this time of day made her feel as if she were playing truant. She immediately thought of Liam and wondered if he was still working. Of course not. Friday evening.
    At the traffic lights at the bottom of their street, she fumbled in her handbag for her mobile phone and stabbed out a number. It rang two, three times, then clicked onto voicemail. She was not going to leave a message. She was not. She took a deep breath, cut off the call. The traffic lights changed to green. Just as well.

    The mobile rang when she was trying on a turquoise dress. The first ring always made her panic. Barry had bought her the phone to make her worry less about leaving the children, but every time she heard its annoying half-melody ring, or the same signal coming from another phone in someone else’s briefcase, her heart missed a couple of beats as she frantically searched for the handset in her capacious handbag and stabbed the answer button assuming it was an emergency.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Did you ring me?’
    Liam’s voice was smooth and resonant and could make the simplest sentence suggestive.
    She giggled like a besotted teenager.
    ‘Yes,’ she admitted.
    ‘And I was just thinking about you...’
    ‘It must be telepathy,’ she said.
    ‘Just what I was about to say!’
    They both laughed.
    She looked at herself in the changing-room mirror, trying to suppress the