Chapter 18
Tally’s birthday weekend fast approaches and it’s safe to say I’m super excited at the prospect of a minibreak. I have time away with some actual friends I’ve made, I think happily as I lay outfit options on my bed. The last minibreak I went on was to a French chateau with Mark. We’d been having a typically hectic time with the business and finally managed to free up two nights for a trip away. I bought new lingerie for the occasion and packed only my slinkiest things, imagining that we’d spend the entire time champagne tasting and bonking. But of course I’d forgotten that neither of us worked well without a schedule and Mark ended up booking activity after activity. Even the champagne tasting itself didn’t quite go to plan, I was too drunk and gassy to cavort around in the new undies.
Good news: I can be as drunk and gassy as I want this weekend! What a relief. In fact, packing for this trip is a dream. I fold up my favourite baggy T-shirt to sleep in and put it in my bag.
Tally’s given us scant information about her birthday bash, other than that we’re staying in a barn on the Pembrokeshire coast and that we should pack swimmers. I can’t imagine that the sea around Wales is going to be particularly balmy in late April but I add a couple of swimming costumes into my bag just in case.
Downstairs I can hear Lila chatting away to Mum. She’s been looking forward to this weekend even more than I have and I’m trying not to take it too personally. My baby’s growing up so fast! It’s the first time I’ll have been away from her for two nights in a row, which is a bit mad considering she’s almost five. She seems completely unbothered by the fact and has already ‘packed’ her own bag ready for a weekend at her grandparents’. Unsure as to how often she’ll need her inflatable pumpkin costume over the weekend, I’ve added a few other essentials too (clothes, pants, her favourite teddies). I’ve even gone as far as a couple of handwritten notes on the off chance that she misses me. I sling her bag over my shoulder, head downstairs and scoop Lila up in my arms, breathing her in.
‘We’ll be fine!’ Mum says, sensing my apprehension.
Lila wriggles free and gives me a sympathetic look. ‘It’s okay. You’ll have fun when you get there.’
I try not to well up at the fact that my young daughter is trying to put me at ease when I’m pretty sure it should be the other way around.
‘Have fun with Granny and Grandpa,’ I sniff. ‘I love you.’
After waving them off, I turn back to my empty house. There’s a fluffy toy discarded on the floor in the hall which I pick up and hold to my heart. What will I do without my little girl for the weekend? How will I ever—
‘Ooh, champagne!’ I say, spotting the bottle of fizz Mum has left on my kitchen table.
It would be really weird to open it now, by myself, wouldn’t it?
Or would it?
Inappropriately few seconds later and the cork is popped, I’ve poured a flute and I’m shimmying around my bedroom adding things that aren’t even on my packing list into my overnight bag.
Joe has one hand on his hip and a pointed look on his face as he steps into my home and assesses the scene. The scene is me now chugging straight from the bottle of champagne while trying to encourage the last few clothes into my bag with my foot.
‘Let me get this straight,’ he says, one eyebrow arched. ‘I’m driving?’
I look sheepishly at the bottle in my hand. ‘That does appear to be the case.’
‘Hmm,’ says Joe, zipping up my heaving bag, hoisting it onto his broad shoulder and loading it into the boot of his car.
‘The good news is,’ I call, trailing after him, ‘that you will have my sparkling self for company all the way.’
The corners of his mouth twitch up the tiniest amount, which pleases me no end.
‘I’ve got snacks and great chat,’ I continue.
Joe narrows his eyes. ‘What snacks?’
‘Have you tried these before?’ I ask, pulling a healthy protein bar out of the back pocket of my jeans. ‘They’re called Hype Beast and the main ingredient is egg whites!’
Joe shakes his head at me.
‘Let’s hope the promised great chat is better than the “snacks”.’
‘Rude,’ I say, unwrapping one and taking a bite.
For anyone wondering, egg-based protein bars and champagne do not a merry combination make.
I’m finding it hard to strap myself into the front seat of Joe’s car what with the open bottle of booze and disgusting snacks in my hands. He watches me for a while, amused, until he realises that I really am getting nowhere. With an exaggerated huff, he unbuckles his own seatbelt and leans across to strap me in. I’m suddenly Very Aware of his physical presence.
‘And here I was thinking I’d left my child at home for the weekend,’ he mutters.
‘God, Joe, a whole weekend without the kids. Can you imagine?’ I grab his hand and then immediately let go because, what was that electric shock?
‘I don’t think I’ve seen you this giddy before, Sophie Rogers.’ He starts up the engine and gives me a side glance. ‘It suits you.’
‘Blame the champagne. Mum had very sweetly left the bottle in my kitchen and I don’t know what came over me but, well, here we are. Are you mad that you have to drive?’
‘Not remotely.’
‘A road trip, Joe! I’m quite excited.’ I hiccup.
‘I can tell,’ he says as he manoeuvres us out of Bristol.
It soon transpires that Joe and I have quite different approaches to road trips. Whenever I drive long distances, I like to get there in one go with ideally zero stops. Efficient. Joe takes a more leisurely approach, stopping for coffee and loo breaks with merry abandon. I learn this as we pull into the first of many petrol stations before we’ve even crossed into Wales. What could we possibly need?
The loo, it turns out.
I’m half a bottle of champagne down and my bladder’s at bursting point.
‘How are you feeling about this weekend?’ I ask after we’ve grabbed more snacks, hopped back into the car and I’ve wedged the champagne bottle back between my feet.
‘Surprisingly all right,’ he admits. ‘Everyone seems a lot less scary these days and I haven’t been cooked a sympathy meal in ages. I get to spend more time with you and it’ll be nice to see a bit more of the dads, too. I don’t know them very well.’
‘Yeah, it does seem to be mostly mums at pick-up, doesn’t it?’
Joe, staring straight ahead at the traffic, nods and I sense he has more to say.
‘But …’ I prompt.
‘They’re not really my sort of people,’ he concedes. ‘Like, I definitely would not be friends with the Battenbergs if we hadn’t been thrown together at the school gates.’
‘Totally get that,’ I say. ‘They’re an intriguing bunch.’
‘That’s for sure. And you like them so I’m happy to help.’
‘That’s really sweet …’ I trail off as I watch Joe changing gear. My temperature spikes and I realise, with a jolt, that there is something incredibly sexy about the way his hand is working through the gears. What is wrong with me? Have I lost my mind? Did Mum slip something into the champagne?
‘I do like some of the mums,’ I say, clawing back to the conversation we were having before I became a lusty Lucy. ‘Frankie’s a genuine friend now. We’ve set up our own splinter group from the Barnaby’s Babes WhatsApp and mostly just message each other with pertinent emojis whenever Celeste says something ridiculous.’ Quick glance at Joe. Both hands are thankfully back on the steering wheel. He smiles at me.
‘Mel’s cool too, she has her head screwed on,’ I carry on. ‘Celeste is obviously slightly mad and Tally’s a whirlwind. And I don’t really know Olivia that well yet. What I like best, though, is that I don’t feel like such an outsider anymore and that is having a direct impact on my daughter’s life. We’ve been on playdates and met friends in the playground thanks to all of this. And Lila is happy, Joe. That’s worth its weight in gold.’
Joe nods in understanding.
‘Werther’s Original?’ I ask, proffering a bag full of the buttery sweets.
‘Whatever next, Fox’s Glacier Mints?’ He glints at me.
‘I have those too. What are you implying?’
‘Nothing, Grandma.’
‘What a slur.’ I laugh, throwing a Werther’s Original into my mouth. ‘You’re missing out. These are a treat.’
‘Thought you’d ramp things up a notch after the egg-white protein bar?’
‘I will not be mocked,’ I insist, relieved to get back to the playful banter between us and find my temperature returning to normal. I flick the radio on and scroll through the options until the intro to a familiar song comes on.
‘God, I used to love this one,’ says Joe. ‘Do you remember it?’
‘Remember it? It was the anthem of my early noughties punk-rock phase.’
Joe splutters out an incredulous laugh as the lyrics kick in. Within seconds we’re belting out Sum 41’s ‘Fat Lip’ at the top of our lungs.
‘Trashed my own house party ’cos nobody came,’ we almost-shout in tandem, rolling through the first verse and into the chorus that I must have sung a thousand times when I was younger.
‘I DON’T WANNA WASTE MY TIME,’ we boom, now so loud I wonder if the other cars on the motorway can hear us. Turns out we still know the majority of the lyrics, with Joe doing an excellent job at the slow bit in the middle, and by the time the final chorus rolls around I’ve got my hands in the air and Joe’s using the steering wheel as a makeshift drum. (Also quite sexy. Perhaps I have a car fetish?)
‘What a song!’ I say, slightly sweaty, when we stop dancing.
Joe’s eyes flick away from the road for the briefest second to look at me. He’s got the most joyous smile on his face. I catch my reflection in the wing mirror and my cheeks are pink from grinning.
‘Now Sophie,’ Joe begins, in the way I imagine he might address an impish student. ‘I’m going to need to hear more about this punk-rock phase.’
‘Ha. Let’s just say I was big into Avril Lavigne for a while. Baggy trousers, black eyeliner all over my face, I think I even wore a tie for a bit.’
‘That’s quite an image. I did not have you down as a punk.’
‘It was all very low key,’ I counter. ‘It’s not like I was going out to gigs and smoking weed with my mates. It was more like I was listening to the music and then getting back to revising for my exams.’
‘Okay then.’ Joe chuckles before falling silent.
‘You all right?’ I ask.
‘Just thinking about the lyrics, all that talk about not wanting to waste time. Would you change anything, if you could go back?’
‘You’re getting a bit deep here, Joe,’ I say, taking another swig from the champagne bottle like a true lady.
‘Feeling nostalgic, I guess …’ he trails off.
‘I don’t believe in regrets, that’s for sure. Every single choice I’ve made in my life has led me to this point.’
‘Dancing in a car with your good pal Joe?’
‘See! Exactly. You are a good pal, even if you do say so yourself. I don’t have that many friends so I’m grateful. As for the other stuff, I do wonder if I could have taken my foot off the pedal a bit when I was younger. Did I need to dedicate so much time to revising at school and uni? Did I need to spend so many hours in the office when I was launching Mylk It? Did I, maybe, miss out on some fun stuff because of that dedication?’ I shrug. ‘I don’t know. Anyway, I’m making up for it now!’ I grin and take another swig. ‘How about you?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Joe muses. ‘Actually that’s a lie, I definitely wouldn’t have kissed Alison Hardcastle when I was fifteen.’
I laugh. ‘Poor Alison Hardcastle! It can’t have been that bad?’
‘It wasn’t. The problem was her twin brother. I spent the next two years at school in fear that he’d beat me up.’
‘And did he?’
‘No, but only because I promised to do all his English homework for him.’
I try to keep a straight face. ‘Just think, he’s probably a complete dunce now. Um, Joe?’
‘You need the loo again, don’t you?’
‘It’s creepy that you can read my mind.’
‘There’s a service station in a few miles. This time I can introduce you to some modern day snacks. Have you heard of the potato crisp?’ He smirks.
I make a mental note to kick him in the shins when we pull up.
It turns out that Tally’s idea of a little barn is, in fact, an architecturally stunning structure the size of an airplane hangar. It takes a good five minutes from the turn-off along a gravel track to get to it and then another five minutes to locate the actual door because the entire premises is clad in burnt larch. (I only know this because I watch a lot of Grand Designs).
Finally Joe finds a downlight with a doorbell underneath.
‘You’re here!’ Tally claps as a hidden front door swings open and we’re pulled into a warmly lit hallway. ‘Come in, come in. You missed dinner but you’re just in time for charades.’
Missed dinner? I check my phone and can’t believe it’s gone nine p.m. That’s what happens when you take so many stops! Bloody Joe. My stomach rumbles loudly.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asks. ‘I can get Chef to whip something up.’
‘There’s a chef?’ I ask, gobsmacked.
‘She’s amazing, babes. Vegan, naturally, and totally brilliant. OMG I heard about your Mylk It connection by the way. So cool.’ Tally gives me an admiring look as she leads us upstairs to our rooms but I’m quite keen to brush all thoughts of Mylk It aside for the weekend. As if reading my mind, Joe steps in to swerve the conversation back to safer territory.
‘Are you sure the chef wouldn’t mind?’ he asks. ‘It’s getting late …’
‘Oh she’s here all weekend, don’t worry. Right, here you guys are.’ Tally flings open a door and walks inside. There’s a huge double bed with a soft throw artfully arranged along the bottom of it. At one end, a vast window leads onto a balcony with two wooden chairs facing out over the bay. It’s beautiful in an impeccably minimalist kind of way.
‘I’ll leave you guys to it, we’re in the main sitting room when you’re ready,’ she says and heads out.
I stare after her.
‘But … but …’ I stutter.
‘But what?’ Joe asks, dropping his leather bag onto one side of the bed.
‘Where’s the other bedroom?’
Joe waits for the penny to drop. Finally it does. Of course we’re being given a room to share because we’re a couple. Why did I not think of this beforehand? And more importantly, how am I going to get through a weekend sleeping next to Joe in my current lusty state?
I just stand in the middle of the room and don’t move.
‘Listen, I’m more than happy to sleep on that,’ he says, motioning to a wooden bench in the corner. It’s got the flimsiest of cushions on it.
‘I’ll take it,’ I say.
‘Don’t be daft,’ says Joe. ‘Come on, let’s eat.’
Following the sound of laughter, we find everyone surrounded by half-drunk bottles of beer and glasses of wine in a pristine living room.
‘The gang is all here!’ Tally cheers as we walk in and I feel a buzz of satisfaction course through my veins. ‘Chef just brought these in for you,’ she adds, waving to a side table with a couple of platters on it. ‘Tempura veggies, vegan sushi, some noodles …’
I gracefully migrate (stampede) towards the food.
Meanwhile Tally’s partner Jude hops up from his plush seat and claps Joe on the back. ‘Good to finally meet you,’ he says. ‘There’s a football table in the games room, does anyone fancy a game? I might take some port with me.’
With that, every male in the room stands up and Douglas Battenberg announces that he’s a ‘demon’ at table football.
I groan. ‘Surely one of us has to be into football too. Just to balance out this gender stereotype situation happening right now?’
But it turns out, no one is.
Joe grabs his plate of food and plants a gentle kiss on my cheek. I respond with a startled thumbs up because a. my mouth’s full and b. why is he making me feel like *this* today?
‘I didn’t get a goodbye kiss,’ Frankie huffs as Joe and the lads head out. ‘One mention of the word port and Dave was out of here like a shot.’
‘Joe is very loving,’ Tally says, flinging herself down on a sofa and motioning for me to join her.
‘It’s new love, isn’t it?’ Celeste muses. While everyone else has opted for comfy clothes this evening – Tally’s told us we’re dressing up tomorrow night – Celeste is wearing a pair of skin-tight jeans and a crisp white shirt. ‘Douglas and I were like that when we first got together. Couldn’t keep our hands off each other!’
‘Go on,’ encourages Tally with a wink.
‘Well, no,’ Celeste says, looking slightly flustered. ‘I’m sure you can imagine! It was all so thrilling wasn’t it, in the early days?’
All eyes are on me. I fold my feet up under myself and take a moment to just enjoy this. I know, deep down, that these women are after some salacious gossip but I still feel genuinely chuffed to be here. I’ve gone from being an outcast to feeling like a real part of the parent team. Back in Feb Celeste thought my name was Susie and nobody would engage with me at the school gates. Three months on and I’m even being invited to stuff like this weekend, celebrating Tally’s fortieth birthday. It all feels like a huge step forward. I couldn’t have done it without Joe and his madcap ideas, I think fondly.
My thoughts must be written across my face because Frankie says: ‘Look, she’s smitten!’