Free Comfort and Joy by India Knight Page A

minute ago.’
    ‘I was just putting Sophie and Hope in a cab,’ says Tamsin. ‘There was one right on the corner.’
    ‘I’m sorry about my wife,’ Tim says. ‘I don’t know what got into her.’
    ‘Life got into her,’ says Jake, shaking his head. ‘It gets into all of them eventually.’
    ‘Them?’ says Tamsin. ‘Them? Who’s “them”?’
    ‘Women,’ says Jake.
    ‘But … what do you mean, “Life gets into them”? Doesn’t life get into men too?’
    ‘Babe,’ says Jake. ‘It’s not the same. We’re not the same. Take my second wife. Gorgeous girl, just gorgeous. Real beauty.
     Tits like torpedoes.’
    ‘Right,’ says Tamsin.
    ‘She was the best fun ever. Oh, we had such a laugh. Everything was great. I actually
liked
her, you know? Properly liked her, not just fancying. Though I fancied her like mad too, of course. We were always at it.
     Couple of rabbits. But she was my mate as well.’
    ‘Right,’ says Tamsin, looking at me and making a ‘what the fuck?’ face. My own face has been set to ‘what the fuck?’ for the
     past twenty minutes.
    ‘So. Get hitched to make her happy. Get her up the duff to make her happy – I had a couple of kids already. Everything hunky-dory.
     We’re as happy as Larry. And then what happens? She goes mad overnight. She goes mental.’
    ‘What do you mean, she goes mad?’ This is me, wondering how literal Jake is being.
    ‘I mean, she goes mad. She looks different, for a start.’
    ‘That great indicator of insanity,’ says Tamsin, whose body language does not bode well for Jake’s nocturnal needs.
    ‘Well, you know. She piles a few pounds on. I’m not a monster. I know chicks do that when they’re pregnant. I don’t really
     get why they do it after, but anyway. I roll with it, you know? Even though fat chicks – not my bag.’
    ‘Right,’ I say, sighing.
    ‘But it’s not just the poundage. She used to have her hair done and stuff. Eyelashes. Dresses. Sexy underwear. Laughing. All
     gone. Now she’s mooching around with leaky tits, grumbling at me when I get in late. And I do get in late. I get in later
     and later, because I don’t like her standing there fucking leaking and moaning at me.’
    ‘Jesus, Jake,’ I say. ‘What about the children. Your children with her?’
    ‘Yeah, yeah – they were cute. Cute little kids. But I didn’t
marry to have more cute little kids. I married because I fancied my missus and she was my mate, and she wanted to get married
     and I thought I’d be nice.’
    ‘Good of you,’ says Tamsin, looking like she’s just had lemon juice squeezed in her eyes. ‘Princely. So then what happened?’
    ‘Ah, long story. But I slept with one bird too many. Got caught. Legged it. Bit of a relief, to be honest.’
    ‘I don’t know what to say,’ says Tamsin. ‘Pass me that bottle, would you, Sam?’
    ‘Oh, it’s different with you, my love,’ says Jake. ‘Water under the bridge, all that old stuff. Wouldn’t do that now. Badly
     behaved. Bit shabby,’ he says, and laughs.
    ‘You live and learn,’ says Pat. ‘Aye, so you do.’
    ‘So, Jake,’ says Tamsin. ‘When you said she went mad? You meant, you meant –’ she takes a big gulp of wine ‘– that, basically,
     she let herself go? Wasn’t sexy enough? Wasn’t hot enough? Didn’t want to shag you enough?’
    ‘Got it in one, babe,’ says Jake happily.
    ‘And that this was insane behaviour on her part?’
    ‘Yep,’ says Jake. ‘If you think I’m hot now, you should have seen me then.’
    ‘It wouldn’t have registered,’ says Tamsin, her voice like ice. ‘I would have been about nine years old.’
    Jake winces at this – the first angry words I have ever heard Tamsin address to him – and carries on rolling his joint.
    ‘That’s exactly what’s happened to Sophie,’ Tim says. ‘It’s exactly as you describe.’
    ‘My God,’ I say. ‘This is unbelievable. It’s a wonder we’re not all lesbians. It’s a wonder the