After the Party by Lisa Jewell Page B

She smiled apologetically at Joel. “Sorry,” she said, “she seems to have a phobia of polite conversation.”
    Joel shrugged and started to close his newspaper. “Don’t worry,” he said, “they’re all different. That one hugs the garbage men.” He pointed at his daughter.
    Jem smiled and absentmindedly stroked the hair of the baby currently sleeping on her chest.
    â€œHe looks happy,” said Joel, smiling at Blake.
    Jem glanced down at his head and smiled again. He was zipped into a padded snowsuit and his right cheek was squashed up against the top of Jem’s left breast. He was fast asleep and warm as toast. “Good to be a baby, eh?” she said.
    â€œI’d say.”
    Jem kissed Blake’s head and turned to check on Scarlett. She was on the wobbly bridge with Jessica and they were making it rock back and forth, giggling at each other. She had no idea what to do next. Joel had closed his newspaper. He hadn’t just lowered it, he’d closed it. That had to mean that he’d ratherhave a conversation with Jem than read his newspaper. Which would also make it rather rude of her to walk away now and sit on another bench, which was exactly what a sizable part of her wanted to do. She glanced back at him. He smiled at her. She glanced down at his shoes. They were nice. She was paralyzed.
    She was about to move away, when Joel said something.
    â€œHow old is he now?”
    Jem had to think for a moment to whom he might be referring and then remembered her son on her chest. “Oh, he’s, er, fifteen weeks, coming up to.”
    Joel squinted. “Oh, right, that’s nearly four months.”
    Jem nodded.
    â€œYes, you forget what the weeks mean when you haven’t had a small baby for a while. Have to revert to months.”
    Jem laughed and turned again to watch her daughter, vaguely hoping that she might be doing something terribly dangerous that would necessitate an immediate sprint across the playground, thus ending this curiously painful exchange. Instead she observed that she and Jessica had commandeered the wooden playhouse from a very small boy and were sitting safely at its internal table, playing tea party.
    No. It was clear. She was going to have to have her first conversation with Joel. She breathed in deeply and sat down against the arm of the bench.
    â€œOh, here, here.” Joel moved the paper cup and the mittens out of the way.
    â€œOh, no, honestly, this is fine. If I sit down properly he’ll get all scrunched up and wake up and then I’ll be on walkabout.”
    Joel smiled at her. “So,” he said, “are you back to work tomorrow?”
    â€œNo, no,” she shook her head. “No. I’m full-time mum for a week. My partner’s away, so . . .”
    â€œWhat, your business partner?”
    â€œNo. My, ah, life partner, I believe that’s the correct, rather awful term.”
    â€œOh, I see, so he’s . . .” He paused for a brief moment and looked at her questioningly and it suddenly occurred to Jem that he was seeking clarification that her life partner was indeed a he. She nodded encouragingly. “He’s away on business, is he?”
    Jem laughed, louder than she’d intended. “No. Not really. He’s away finding his mojo.”
    â€œAh.” His eyes widened to register his surprise. “And where might it be, this missing mojo?”
    â€œIn Santa Monica, apparently.”
    â€œI see.” Joel nodded, once and definitively. It was clear that he was completely aware of the liberty that Ralph was taking, not to mention Jem’s feelings about it.
    â€œHmm,” agreed Jem, forcing her hands down into the pockets of her large down coat and resting her chin on Blake’s crown.
    â€œSo what does he do, your, er . . . ?”
    â€œLife partner.”
    Joel laughed. “Yes, your life