Chapter 25 Miles Saturday 18 December
Spending a leisurely Saturday with Bea and a happy, smiley Saoirse is a joy. We were at the Diana Memorial Playground in Kensington Gardens this morning when I got a WhatsApp from Astrid.
How’s my dress this morning?
I chuckled to myself. Astrid called it right, as usual. I messaged her back, unable to keep the smirk off my face.
I hung it up. Promise.
A flurry of clapping-hand emojis came right back at me.
Delighted for you both. Well done.
I’m delighted too. I’m fucking thrilled. We’ve been careful not to be too touchy-feely in front of Bea, but there’s a relaxed, familiar vibe between us that makes me weirdly happy.
I lead Saoirse and Bea through the iconic glass foyer of The Royal Opera House. Saoirse’s a vision in scarlet. She’s wearing her Astrid Carmichael dress again, with heels and sheer black stockings this time.
‘Do you think Astrid will mind if I wear it again?’ she asked me worriedly earlier.
‘I think she’ll be thrilled. May as well get some mileage out of it.’
And I fully intend for that dress to hit my bedroom floor for a second time tonight.
What’s most obvious, as we settle into our box to await the curtain going up, is how amazing Saoirse is with Bea.
Obviously, she’s a trained professional.
But I’ve spent enough time single-parenting over the past year to fully appreciate how much time and energy she puts into every detail where Bea is concerned.
Bea’s unruly mane, for example, is coaxed into a tidy French plait at the front, fastened with a navy velvet bow to match today’s dress of choice.
And Saoirse’s rucksack, which I teased her earlier for bringing along with her smart outfit, is packed full of things designed to keep Bea busy and happy. Which is excellent, because Bea’s pacing before the show has even started.
Saoirse gives her a tiny box of raisins and lays out some goodies on the floor of the box: a colouring book, a pencil case full of pencils, a sticker book, and a Barbie. She’s even brought a zip-up pouch full of Barbie clothes and combs. Bea gets to work grooming Barbie immediately.
And with her kneeling on the floor, I get Saoirse to myself for a moment.
‘You’re incredible with her.’ I stroke her hand. ‘She’s so lucky.’
She smiles at me. Her smile is so genuine, just like everything else about her.
She doesn’t have a phoney bone in her body.
Allegra would have been craning her neck to check out the other boxes and see if she knew anyone from our “network”.
A smile that gorgeous deserves a kiss. I lean over and brush my lips against hers. Squeeze her hand tightly.
‘Just doing my job,’ she says. ‘Besides, I adore her.’
‘You’re off duty today.’
‘Come on, Miles. You and Bea are taking me out for the most amazing day. I’d never be able to do something like this on my own.’ She gestures around at the rich, jewel-like interior of the Royal Opera House. ‘The least I can do is muck in. And it’s easy for me, processing her. I do it every day.’
‘Well, as long as you get a chance to enjoy yourself. Today is more about spoiling you than Bea.’
She stares at me. ‘Is it now? And was that your motive when you signed off on the box?’
I flush. Busted. ‘It may have occurred to me that it would be a nice treat for you, given you’re new in town. The Nutcracker is wasted on a four-year-old.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispers. Her lips brush my cheek.
‘It’s my pleasure. And you can make it up to me later.’
She laughs. ‘And there he is.’
The ballet is first class, and even Bea does brilliantly, swept up for the most part by the spectacular music and choreography. She alternates between sitting on my and Saoirse’s laps with the occasional stint of colouring in peace on the floor.
But the best part of the whole experience is watching Saoirse lose herself in the spectacle, in raptures over the lavish set and costumes. She’s in ecstasy as we stroll through a festive, hectic Covent Garden on their way to The Savoy.
‘It was so inspiring. Watching it was just like… eating an enormous cake. I loved every second. And this’—she waves her arm to take in beautiful Covent Garden market, with its abundance of Christmas lights, shoppers and street performers—‘is deadly, too. I’m falling in love with your city.’
‘Good.’ I squeeze her hand briefly. ‘Because we’ve been giving you the hard sell. Glad it’s working.’
We gorge on scallops and roasted hake at The Savoy’s River Restaurant.
Maybe it’s that Bea is growing up a little, or maybe it’s Saoirse’s talent for making her feel seen and involved.
But it’s one of the most successful meals I’ve ever had with my daughter.
Especially in a fancy restaurant, where the potential for disaster if she has a meltdown is far higher.
She and Saoirse both adore The Savoy’s Christmas decor, which is a fairytale full of suspended books and rose-gold presents.
They’ve gone to town, as usual, and it seems to appeal to all ages.
It’s something to note for next Christmas.
The Montague tends to play it very safe with Christmas decorations.
Safe and traditional. Maybe we should consider installations like this.
We’re home early enough to watch The Grinch with Bea. We curl up on the sofa in comfortable clothes and tuck a blanket over Bea.
‘There’s Daddy!’ Saoirse says when the Grinch appears.
‘Hilarious.’ I give her a gentle shove.
She leans her head in towards Bea’s. ‘You know, I think your daddy’s heart is far bigger than the Grinch’s.’
‘My daddy has a huge heart,’ Bea agrees. She tucks her head into my armpit.
So this is what perfect happiness feels like.
SAOIRSE
After we’ve done bedtime, which Bea insists is a two-person job, Miles suggests we brave the terrace.
‘It has outdoor heaters. Thought you’d like to see the view. D’you fancy it?’
I do indeed, and I allow Miles to slide my arms into the huge Astrid Carmichael coat and hand me a glass of red wine before I follow him outside.
I didn’t realise how good the insulation is here.
As soon as we open the French doors, the sounds of Winter Wonderland hit us: a cacophony of shouts and screams and laughter and the whirr of machinery, smoothed into a homogenous low-grade buzz.
The night sky’s lit up with smoke and neon lights, and though Miles makes no secret of his contempt for Winter Wonderland, I think it’s all pretty fab, actually.
Especially from a safe—and cosy—distance.
He’s laid a thick furry throw over the outdoor sofa.
I put my wine on the coffee table and curl into him before he drapes a second throw over us both.
His arm is around me, and I allow myself to collapse against his shoulder.
I yawn into his bicep. ‘What a day. I feel so spoilt. Thank you. For everything.’
He twists his body in towards me and drops his face to mine.
‘I plan on spoiling you a lot more before the day is through.’
His expression is solemn as he kisses me, as if this kiss is quite deliberate, and it sends shivers down my spine.
His arm holds me tightly. Despite the noise floating over from the revellers at the park, it’s quiet up here on this beautiful terrace, and intensely private.
Our kiss feels almost more intimate than the kissing we did in bed last night.
I press my face more closely to his and deepen the kiss, a rush of emotion rolling over me. This man has spent the past twenty-four hours—and longer—thinking of my wants and needs and indulging them. He’s been so generous, in every way.
Inviting me to Sorrel Farm, into his close-knit circle of friends.
Arranging for a top designer to lend me beautiful clothes.
Taking me to the ballet.
In a box.
And, of course, using his body to pay homage to mine and to bring me so much pleasure last night.
It’s a lot for my heart to handle. Which probably explains the warm, swelling feeling emanating from that organ as Miles slides his wonderful lips against mine and tilts his face to access more of my mouth. He splays his fingers across my jaw, up into my hair.
After a few minutes of blissful, dreamlike kissing, during which I let my mind go blank, he runs his tongue softly along my lower lip before pulling back.
‘I just wanted to say.’ He clears his throat. ‘I’m enjoying this very much. Being with you, that is.’
A tiny spark of panic hits me in the stomach. I’m not sure if there’s an and or a but coming next.
‘Me too.’ I trace his cupid’s bow with my finger.
‘It’s a bit of an odd situation.’ He shifts a little.
‘I haven’t dated anyone since Allegra… left.
I assumed I would wait a good while before introducing anyone to Bea.
But obviously, she knows you, and adores you, which is great.
It makes it easier, but also… I feel I should tread carefully. I’m not really sure what I’m saying.’
He rubs his hand across his mouth, and I lean in to kiss his cheek.
‘It’s okay. Don’t stress. We can take our time, see how things go.’
‘I want to do right by her. But I also want to do right by you. And I want to keep seeing you. Very much. So as long as you don’t mind us being careful around Bea, I want to get you to myself as much as possible before we go away.’
Before they go away.
Of course.
It hits me like a punch to my stomach. They’re going away in less than a fortnight, and I’ll be left here. Unemployed, alone, and devastated.
‘Don’t worry.’ My voice is small. ‘I know how things are. How long are you away for, again?’
‘A month. My house should be finished by the end of January. It makes sense to do a long trip this year, before Bea starts school and we’re tied into a strict schedule.’
A month. Ugh. An image hits me.
Miles on a white beach.
Stretched out on a sun lounger.
Baking his hard body.
‘Of course it does.’ This is not his fault. There’s no point in making him feel bad—or being needy and making him run a mile. ‘Look, we’ve been together for twenty-four hours. You don’t owe me any promises, Miles.’
‘I know. But it still feels shitty.’ He sighs heavily and strokes my hair off my face. ‘Do you think you’ll still be in London in February? How did you even get a work visa, anyway? I thought they’d be a nightmare after Brexit?’
‘Don’t tell anyone. I have an English grandad.’
He gasps theatrically. ‘That must be a stain on your family tree.’
‘Tell me about it. But it’s handy for visas. So, yeah, I’ll probably be here. As long as I can find some work. I can’t afford to stay otherwise. I’ll chase Siobhan after Christmas, but it’s more likely I’ll try to find some nannying work, or a job in a nursery.’
‘Okay.’ He kisses my hair. ‘We’ll work something out.’
‘You and Bea are doing great, Miles. But you’ve been through a lot. I wouldn’t expect you to jump into something with me—or anybody—without giving it some thought. So don’t worry. I’m not holding you to anything.’
It’s freezing. I snuggle in closer and slip my hands under his jacket. His body is warm and gorgeous.
‘I appreciate that. Very much. You cold?’
‘Yup.’
‘Stay here for a minute. I’ll run us a hot bath. I have ways to warm you up.’