‘CAMERON!’ Henry Cox shouts.
Oh, Henry. You watch your porn in the shed, don’t you? With rubber gloves.
I turn to Cameron’s sisters. ‘Have a look at the sex education topics. It might help your daughters understand their bodies more. I just don’t think you should see the word “sex” and think it a bad thing.’
‘At eight, I think it is,’ Natasha retorts.
‘How do you tell your daughter she came into the world then?’ I ask her, my frustration starting to rise.
‘She grew in my tummy from a seed.’
Cameron titters under his breath.
‘How is this funny, Cameron? There is a time and a place,’ Heather says. ‘I don’t want my children knowing about these things yet.’
‘Does your daughter know she has a vagina?’ I ask.
‘Cameron, control your friend,’ Natasha interrupts. Cameron ignores her.
‘My daughter has a foufou,’ Heather replies.
‘And that is part of the problem.’
‘Excuse me?’
Oh dear, they all have foufous and winkies at this table, don’t they? Except for Natasha’s husband, who I really do suspect names his penis something fantasy-based like Raygar, Breaker of Chambers.
‘I can go into the school and talk to them as a local councillor. I don’t think this is something we should endorse,’ Henry says abruptly. ‘You are right, Natasha, to have your reservations.’
The way I am silenced makes me grit my teeth, clench my jaw. I inhale deeply as Natasha refolds her napkin on her lap, appearing vindicated.
‘So you think a suitable course of action is to prevent sex education for all because it doesn’t align with your views?’ I ask.
‘I speak for a community, that is my job. Sex education is a choice,’ Henry preaches.
‘It’s a basic necessity. It’s knowledge they’ll carry for a lifetime. More than quadratic equations or Grade 7 flute.’
Of everything I’ve said this far, this seems to go down the worst. Was I supposed to be impressed by the flute? I would if she could play it like Lizzo and twerk at the same time, but I suspect she doesn’t. Natasha is tapping her foot impatiently to see how else I can offend anyone else in this room. Cameron sits there quietly, though I think he may be smiling.
‘We are your hosts, this is very disrespectful. I hope you don’t treat your clients in catering in such a way,’ Henry adds.
‘If they’re talking out of their backsides, then yes, I do.’ And that is my parting shot. I stand up from my chair and push it back slowly. ‘Alicia, happy birthday. I am so sorry that I soured the mood here…’
Henry’s arms are crossed, as he glares into space. I think I may have reduced Arabella to tears. This will mean more dessert for all, no? You can hide my place card that you had to write in biro and chat about the absent Imogen, who obviously was a better match for your son. I won’t have to sit through this shitshow. I can buy some chips from somewhere. I am sorry, Cameron. Whatever this was, I don’t want to be here.
‘Thank you for dinner. It was…’
…bloody awful.
I return to the cloakroom to get my coat, one of the cockerels in the cross-stitch staring at me with wonkily sewn eyes. Don’t look at me like that, in judgement. I have sex. Maybe not regularly. My last boyfriend was a two-week Tinder fling, who was pleasant enough. It reached its peak when he considered camping in October a romantic weekend away. Romance needs an en suite as a minimum. But what I know of sex is that it’s also about pleasure, self-love, connection. It’s the best part of my job to have learned all those things and I wish I could tell everyone around that table. I wish I could hand Alicia a Clitmeister for her sixtieth and see her face ignite from the new sensations. Because I bet Henry in all their years of marriage has never even bothered to look for it.
As I leave, I notice the low murmur of sniping, angry language and slowly shut the front door. As I reach the end of the drive, though, I hear a voice.
‘Josie?’
I turn in surprise. Cameron jogs to the end of the drive, his arms under his armpits to retain bodily warmth. I spy a sister at a bay window of the house watching over us. He takes my arm and leads me to a hedge.
‘Go and put a coat on,’ I say. ‘It’s freezing out here. I’m fine, I’m so sorry I spoiled things.’
