Tuesday and Wednesday were interminable "lost" days, which consisted of nothing but angst, trepidation, and slow-moving time. Vicky tried to lose herself in Crisis Chris' latest crises about diversity quotas and social mobility, but she was no Justin. She was not the founder and editor-in-chief of Millennial, nor any other left-leaning, self-congratulatory, unprofitable vanity project of a magazine. She just didn't care enough about minority issues when she was worried that she herself could be the minority when it came to the participants in her husband's sex life. No matter how hard she worked, nor how much red tape she unfurled from Chris Colville's endless reel of bureaucratic legalise, she could not stop thinking about Rudy and sex, and Amy and the cheese and wine evening.

Amy suffered from a similar predicament. She tried to carry on with her job as usual, but her eyes were trained on one child in particular, and she couldn't help but look at Isla and think of her as her unborn child's half-sister. She couldn't help but be a bit more patient or a little more generous when it came to Isla's sniffles, lunch portion or turn-taking with her classmates. She couldn't help feeling sick once her morning sickness had subsided, because the annual cheese and wine evening was not where she wanted to air her dirty laundry, and yet what else could she do? She was The Other Woman, and although she'd been wronged, used and lied to, she couldn't help feeling immeasurably guilty. It was that sense of guilt which had led to her agreeing to Vicky's ludicrous fromage et vin tête-à-tête. Her assent to the scheme had been given on the spur of the moment, in a bid to appease a wronged woman – and, if she was honest with herself – in an attempt to keep on the good side of a wealthy family who held no insignificant sway over her employer. In the ensuing forty-eight hours however, careful consideration, rational thought and self-preservation had combined to show her that a cheese and wine showdown with the married father of her unborn child and his wife, was not at all wise. Alas, she had agreed to the plan and all she could do was reconcile herself to her impending doom.

Mattie – who was of course aware of said doom, and who would be party to it by hovering just behind Vicky and Rudy at the cheesy face-off – was also out of sorts. She knew her friend was anxious to have the matter dealt with, and that although Vicky had faith in her husband, she did not have faith in men in general. She knew that Vicky was determined to appear nonchalant, when in reality, she was close to self-combustion. And poor Rudy (she felt bad for thinking of him as "Poor Rudy" when he may have wronged her friend, but she just didn't think he was the type) was none-the-wiser. His wife was distracted and aloof – not an entirely unheard-of state of mind – and he had no idea that he was the cause. Mattie couldn't tell him, because it was against the rules, and it was (to her mind) a real shame, as she felt that only Rudy and his – quite-literally – healing hands, were capable of appeasing her best friend. There was nothing she could do or say, however, until the altercation had taken place, and so Mattie fidgeted at her desk for two days, sending poignant looks at her friend, and dismissive shakes of the head to her husband when Rafe had the forethought to ask what had her so preoccupied.

'The cheese and wine evening,' Mattie told him, on Thursday afternoon, not long before she was due to leave the office.

'What about it?' Rafe replied incredulously. 'It's a load of crap anyway. Shit wine, warm cheese, and a handful of pointless conversations. I can think of plenty of ways I'd rather spend my evening.' Mattie scowled. 'Why don't you go without me? You and Vicky can keep each other company.'

'Because you're a father and you're supposed to take an interest in your sons' school and education, you ignoramus!' came her hot rebuke. Rafe raised a perfectly shaped brow, with a frustrating amount of sex appeal. 'Don't look at me like that!' Mattie snapped, pre-empting a sly remark.

'Like what?'

'You know "like what"!' He smirked.

'So, cheese and wine then...' he agreed, with a warm glow of the eye. 'Before home and sex, because someone clearly needs to destress, and if the way you're looking at me is anything to go by, you're in need of a massage from my cock.'

'You're such a child!' Mattie scoffed, although there was no heat in her voice, as it had flooded to her cheeks instead. She couldn't help it. He made her breathless when he looked at her like that. When he folded strong arms across his broad, toned chest, and let his perfectly-tailored shirt stretch across lean muscle. She felt her pulse quicken when he used that voice and made such promises without having to utter a single word of explanation. In short, when he drew breath. 'I'm going now,' Mattie said, in defiance of her aroused fluster. 'Early. I'm leaving early, so there!'

'And you call me a child?' came Rafe's low chuckle; the rumbling kind that made Mattie whimper with need. It was deliberate, she was certain. He knew it was one of her many, many weaknesses where he was concerned. Unwilling to give him further satisfaction, Mattie grabbed her bag and coat, pushed past him with as much dignity as she could muster, and jutted her chin in the air as high as her little legs would carry her. On her way out, a knowing look was exchanged with Vicky through the glass wall to her office, bidding her good courage, and then her eyes were averted in shame, for what kind of friend fantasied about post-cheese and wine evening sex with their husband when said cheese and wine could leave another's life in tatters?

***

'Are you alright?' Rudy asked, as he parked in the school carpark. Vicky had been quiet for days, but she seemed particularly tense since she'd come home that evening.

'Yes,' she replied. 'Why wouldn't I be?' Eyes narrowed in challenged; in assessment, as though looking for the slightest hint of guilt.

'I don't know,' Rudy offered placidly. 'Work? Stress? Have you been sleeping okay?' She had not, because she'd been too worried about Rudy and his "sleeping" habits; about whether or not they involved their daughter's teacher and unfertilised eggs. Or in this case, fertilised.

'I'm fine,' she lied. 'I just want to get there before all the good wine is taken and the best cheese has gone.' Rudy frowned. He didn't approve of the cheese and wine evening, on account of its encouraging binge drinking on a school night. Had they held the evening on a Friday, he may have partaken in a small glass himself whilst Vicky quaffed half a bottle, but on a Thursday? No, certainly not.

'Just remember,' he said cautiously, not wanting to patronise or appear overbearing, but also, really not wanting to be embarrassed by his wife yet again (she had a knack for it), 'that it's an information evening first and foremost and the cheese and wine is for light refreshment. This is Isla's school and we're going to be involved with these teachers for a long time.'

'How involved?' Vicky demanded; her eyes sharp with suspicion.

'Pardon?' Rudy asked, as he locked the car and stood waiting for Vicky to join him on the pavement.

'How involved?' Because Vicky did plan on finding out precisely how involved he'd been with Amy. And did he plan on being a hands-on dad to his illegitimate child? He would. She knew he would.

'I...' She confused him. Habitually. 'Well,' he said, 'I don't plan on volunteering for the parents' circle, but I might help out on an ad-hoc basis. Easter Egg hunts and things like that. If I find the time, I could volunteer as a parent-reader, but probably not until Isla's a little older. Once she's in Year One, perhaps?'

'And you'll do that – be that involved – for a long time, will you?' Vicky challenged. Rudy had no idea why, and so dipped his brows in confusion.

'Yes, I presume so. Isla could end up being here until she's eighteen.' Until she's eighteen? Vicky said to herself, suddenly realising that if Rudy had fathered a baby with Amy, that even if she could find a way to overcome the adultery, he would be irrevocably tied to his mistress for the rest of his life. That she wouldn't be able to escape the woman. That the child would be Isla's sibling – probably friend – and a constant reminder of Rudy's affair. The prospect was quite ghastly and could only make her waspish.

'Hurry up,' she told him, despite the fact that he had been the one waiting for her. Wordlessly, but with careful assessment, and the subsequent conclusion that something was quite wrong with his wife, Rudy took Vicky's hand in his and led her towards the school. He would get to the bottom of the problem, but not there; not in front of Isla's teachers and the parents of her classmates.

***

'Which one is she?' Mattie whispered to Vicky, holding a glass of wine in front of her mouth, as though attempting to conceal her conversation from would-be lip readers.

'The moderately attractive red-head over there,' Vicky responded, with a nod in Amy's direction. Mattie turned to look at the accused, before grimacing.

'Quite attractive,' she corrected. 'Not moderately.'

'I know,' Vicky snapped, with bitter intonation.

'Is she nice?' Mattie asked, because Amy appeared friendly enough. She looked as though she was probably a very sweet woman and not at all bitchy. Although, she did look quite tense. Almost constipated. Stress will do that to you... Mattie mused.

'Lovely. She's charming. She certainly charmed Rudy, didn't she!' Vicky hissed, before gulping down her very mediocre, overly-warm red wine.

'We don't know for certain that she did,' Mattie said, in an attempt to reassure her friend.

'Who did what?' Rafe asked, appearing beside the two friends and sniffing disdainfully at the wine he held in his hand. He'd been trapped in a conversation (a one-sided one, of course, because Rafe didn't do "small talk"), with a father from Sebastian's class, and had only just managed to escape. 'This stuff's undrinkable.' He frowned before scanning the room; a nice room, in an old, atmospheric building. 'You'd think a school like this could afford better wine, wouldn't you?' he mused.

'Perhaps it's deliberate?' Mattie suggested. 'So as to discourage parents from drinking too much and getting pissed on school property.'

'Christ, you sound like Rudy!' Vicky accused, and it was very much an accusation. It was said with overt disapproval and not a hint of warmth or indulgence. Suspecting your husband of an affair and fathering a love-child will do that to a woman.

'My ears are burning,' Rudy interjected, having heard his name, but not what was said. He'd been too engrossed in his conversation with the school English co-ordinator about phonics and their approach to Early Years reading. Vicky's expression made it clear that it was best that he didn't ask her to repeat whatever it was that had been said, and an awkwardness took hold instead.

'What's wrong with everyone?' Rafe asked, picking up on the tension in the air and not having the tact to remain silent.

'Erm...' Mattie began, before Vicky interrupted with, –

'Oh, look, it's Isla's teacher! Rudy, let's go and meet her. I don't think you've met each other yet.' It was – to Rudy's unsuspecting mind – a perfectly legitimate, innocent proposition, and so he happily allowed his wife to lead him – a little brusquely, truth be told – towards the woman who had just moved away from a cluster of parents after finishing her conversation.

'Come on,' Mattie urged, clutching at Rafe's arm and dragging him in the same direction.

'Why do we need to meet Isla's teacher?' Rafe scoffed. 'I've told you countless times, I don't want another baby, and it's not as if we'd use the nursery here even if we did. There's literally no reason whatsoever for us to talk to Isla's teacher.'

'Will you just be quiet?' Mattie huffed in exasperation, before tugging a little harder on the stationary man's arm. He gave her a calculating look, identified that something was afoot, and ceded to his wife's wishes. He was not at all interested in the minutiae of women's minds, but he also knew that Mattie and Vicky seemed to encounter drama wherever they went, and he wasn't above standing on the periphery and watching it unfold for his own viewing pleasure.

'Hello,' Vicky said, as she and Rudy came to an abrupt halt beside Amy. So abrupt, in fact, that Mattie almost stumbled into the back of her, before turning around and pretending to look busy in conversation with her husband, as though she wasn't utterly engaged in the interaction between the three people behind her. 'Rudy, this is Amy, Isla's teacher. Amy, this is Rudy, my husband.' This last word was said with a possessive sneer, and Vicky's face twisted as she uttered the word, showing that she was close to losing all sense of control. Hearing the peculiar intonation in his wife's voice, but not seeing her face (as he was looking at Amy instead), Rudy could only try to atone for his wife's peculiar demeanour by offering his hand in greeting like the entirely affable man that he was.

'Nice to meet you,' he told Amy, with a gentle, reassuring smile because to his mind, she looked quite terrified of Vicky, and if he was honest with himself, he often used to feel that way about her too. She was an acquired taste, and he'd acquired a taste for her very well – every part of her – but he wasn't so naïve as to expect that everyone else would do the same.

'Hello,' Amy stuttered. Her mouth was dry. Her voice caught in her throat and her heart raced with a combination of sheer horror and mortified relief. 'You're Vicky's husband. Isla's father?' she clarified, whilst her eyes glistened with what he feared might be unshed tears.

'Yes,' Rudy nodded, wondering why it was that he appeared to be surrounded by women who did not seem to react proportionately to entirely normal events. He knew women were normal, rational creatures, just as much as men were, and yet the women he knew personally... Well, he could only assume that they were the exceptions which gave proof to the rule.

'I'm sorry,' Amy said, drawing in a deep breath in a bid to still her racing heart and hold back the horrified tears about to spill from her eyes. She turned to look directly at Vicky, before saying, 'I haven't slept with your husband. I've never met him before in my life.'

'I know you haven't,' Rudy stated in consternation. 'Vicky?' he asked, turning to her with a beseeching look.

'Amy told me she'd slept with you five or six times. She's pregnant,' Vicky explained. 'She said you were the father.' Her voice was hollow with stunned relief. She made the whole thing up? If the woman wasn't pregnant, Vicky was quite sure she'd smack her. If she's even pregnant at all. She probably made that up as well!

'What?' Rudy scoffed, turning between his wife and Amy with a look of offended horror. 'You said that...' He trailed off, unable to repeat the accusation. Adultery? Never. Now looking to his wife, 'And you believed her?'

'In your wife's defence,' Amy rushed, because she had made a grave error and she needed to correct it as quickly and quietly as she could. 'I was probably quite convincing, and I did one hundred percent think that I'd slept with her husband, and I am pregnant, just not by you.'

'No, not by me.'

'Um...' Mattie interjected, no longer pretending not to be listening. She was relieved. Rudy had been vindicated. All was right with the world. 'Perhaps an explanation would help?' This directed at Amy. 'You told Vicky that you saw her husband dropping Isla off for school and that was when you realised that you'd slept with a married man.' Amy had no idea who Mattie was of course, and she wasn't best pleased about having to explain or defend her sex life to a stranger – a stranger who was very clearly another parent at her school – but what could she do? Vicky and Rudy did deserve an explanation after all.

'Yes,' she nodded. 'I did. I saw Isla being dropped off by a man I've slept with several times. He's the father,' she explained, pointing to her flat stomach. 'Isla said – or at the very least implied – that he was her father. Or perhaps she didn't, and I just assumed... I'm not sure. But I thought he was, so that's what I told you on Monday,' she continued, looking Vicky in the eye.

'Monday?' Rudy interrupted. 'You've suspected me of an affair since Monday?' His tone was one of hurt; his eyes accusatory. 'Why didn't you say anything?' His mind worked quickly though, so he didn't wait for an answer before saying, 'Of course! You thought you'd catch me out here in front of everyone... That's why you've been acting so strangely all week.' And now he looked very hurt indeed.

'I'm sorry,' Vicky said, 'but you have to understand how awful it was doing the school run – collecting Isla – only to be told that you'd cheated and fathered a child with Isla's teacher! She said she saw you at drop-off.'

'At drop-off?' Rudy repeated, his face twisting into a grimace. 'On Monday?'

'Yes,' Amy nodded.

'Xander,' he sighed.

'Shit!' Mattie gasped, whilst Rafe snorted with sadistic glee. Amy's eyes widened and she said, –

'Yes, Xander!'

'Why was Xander taking Isla to school?' Vicky interrogated, because details are important. Rudy had taught her that.

'I was called into work early,' Rudy explained sheepishly. 'There was an emergency. Mum was busy but Xander was free so I asked him.' He knew Vicky hated it when he didn't stick to his hours. They'd agreed that when they had Isla, she'd come before work, but he just couldn't say no to an emergency.

'So... it's Xander's child,' Vicky mused, as she realised that Rudy was innocent and Xander – who she'd once fancied herself in love with and who was utterly terrified of commitment – was going to be a father.

'Yes. I'm sorry,' Amy said. 'I guess I should have clarified names, but I saw him, and Isla was talking about her "Daddy" and I mentioned drop-off and you didn't say someone else had taken her to school...' She shrugged helplessly. 'This has all just been a terrible mistake.'

'Yes, it has,' Rudy said sternly. He was annoyed with both women. A little annoyed with Mattie too, if he was being completely honest, because she'd obviously known about the accusation and hadn't said anything.

'Well,' Mattie said, trying to put a positive spin on things, 'At least Xander's single.'

'Yeah,' Vicky agreed with a slightly hysterical nod of the head. 'Everyone's slept with Xander. It's really no big deal.'

'Vicky!' Rudy warned, because despite being rather annoyed with Amy, he didn't think telling her that the father of her unborn child was a notorious womaniser was the kindest thing to do.

'What?' Vicky replied obliviously. 'Everyone has.'

'Not everyone,' Rafe scoffed. 'Mattie hasn't, thank f*ck!'

'Does that mean you have?' Amy asked, new dread surfacing as she looked to Isla's mother.

'Well yes,' Vicky replied slowly, as an ounce of awkwardness began to simmer in her stomach. 'But years ago, and we weren't serious so it's completely irrelevant.'

'Right,' Amy nodded. 'Well, obviously – after Monday – I thought you were married to Xander and that I was going to be telling him about the baby this evening. You're not married to him and I haven't told him anything, so I guess I need to sort that out.'

'Good luck with that!' Rafe muttered under his breath, earning a swot to the stomach from his wife. 'What?' he grumbled. 'She's going to need it.' Unfortunately for Amy, it was true. 

*** Author's Note ***

Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. My youngest had chicken pox (God knows where he caught it from during lockdown?) so he had to be home-schooled again.

Anyway... The identity of the father has been revealed. A shock for everyone except my readers. Not an ideal father, because Xander has issues! How do you think he'll take the news? Do you think Vicky will have a lot of grovelling to do after thinking the worst of Rudy, or was it justified?