Highbridge Read Free Page B

hers, but Becky’s bag. And why Joey had gone over the edge.
    ‘Do you know why each generation is taller than the next?’ Joey was still musing as Natasha guided the Q7 on to the so-called expressway.
    ‘Am I supposed to say nutrition?’
    ‘You are, but it’s communication. Each generation learns how to communicate better so they don’t wear their legs out looking for each other.’
    ‘Is that the sort of thing you think about on that train every Friday night?’
    ‘Nah. I have much better things to think about than that.’ He reached across and felt for the telltale bump under her thick woollen skirt.
    ‘I don’t know why you like these stupid things. They’re freezing in this weather.’
    ‘And I don’t know why you keep asking. You know I’m damaged. Sexually abused as a kid.’
    ‘Oh, you think being seduced by the woman next door amounted to sex abuse, do you?’
    ‘It’d count now. Just a male fantasy then. But that’s it, isn’t it. It left me vulnerable. Conditioned. Well, it’d be groomed now. Susceptible to manipulated media images of sexuality.’
    ‘Spent all week looking at pin-ups in the mess room, more like.’
    He turned and grinned. ‘Exactly. Only that lot can only dream. I’ve got the real thing.’
    She laughed. She always did. Just as she always denied her own looks. Something Joey put down to his mother-in-law, which she would tacitly admit on the rare occasions he could get her to see how she had everything other women paid good money to achieve. A childhood spent learning to be self-deprecating. A childhood that led to a life of self-criticism. A childhood conditioned by the manipulations of a demanding mother.
    Even when she had lived up to the expectations of doing well in her A-levels, her mother had criticised the fact that she only got one A while her friend got three. Because Natasha was brighter. Which she was, but suffered the irony of a proud mother suffocating her by being overdemanding. She had decided not even to try for university, opting instead for one of the new regional colleges of further education, where she studied graphic design. Her mother, being a nurse, had wanted Natasha to do better and become a doctor, although her father, on being told of her plans, was delighted, having always regretted becoming a quantity surveyor rather than an architect. He wanted someone to take up his lost spark of creativity.
    Unfortunately, his untimely death from cancer meant he never lived to see her achieve her degree, and was probably also a reason why she took up with Joey. He was strong and supportive when she needed someone to fill the gaping hole in her life. She stayed with him because she got to lean on him, not his reputation. And discovered the man she then fell for. And he had been smitten from the moment she showed any interest.
    Joe squeezed her thigh and looked across. Like him, she was buttoned up, head to toe against the cold. But instead of Screwfix work gear, an All Saints Fin jacket masked the heavy, but practical sweater and skirt, creating an almost androgynous shape. Only the waves of perfume and hair suggesting what may lie beneath. The deep brown hair she had passed on to Tanya, but because of which, she was always threatening to cut it short. The eyes. Also brown, but always bright, sharp and mischievous that pointed to her Irish ancestry. As did her tongue. Never short of an opinion on anything and everything, but usually correct, and an ability to talk to anyone, about anything, which was probably one of the main things Joey admired about her. He preferred to keep his opinions to himself and couldn’t see the point of small talk, accepting that if it were not for Tasha, their social life would be extremely limited.
    This train of thought looped back to his mother-in-law. ‘How’s your mum been this week?’ he turned and asked.
    Natasha gave a weak, sad smile. ‘OK. Just OK. Sometimes she’s as bright as she always was. Then …’ She gave