Chapter 20
I leap out of bed with a renewed sense of purpose this morning, keen to put whatever vibes were … vibrating last night behind me. Joe, too, seems focused on escaping the close quarters of our bedroom and we dress briskly before heading downstairs to find a breakfast spread awaiting us.
‘Bloody hell, what happened to you?’ Frankie asks Joe on sight of his swollen lip.
‘Eh? Oh, I had a run-in with the bathroom cabinet.’ Joe flashes me a look.
‘Poor Joe!’ Celeste sweeps over. ‘Come with me, I have all sorts of things that will help.’
She steers Joe upstairs while I guiltily migrate over to Frankie and the basket of fresh croissants she’s commandeered. I have chosen croissants over protecting Joe but honestly, I just need a minute. We’re deep in conversation when I spot Joe and Celeste coming back into the kitchen with Celeste holding a Cath Kidston first-aid kit. She appears to be offering to administer a plaster and an ice pack. He looks terrified.
‘Poor Joe,’ Frankie laments, buttering a croissant. ‘Must be hard being such a hot piece of ass.’
‘Frankie!’
‘What?’
‘Piece of ass?’ I repeat. ‘Aren’t we all a bit too post #MeToo to be coming out with lines like that?’
‘Oh come on, we’re all thinking it. Besides, Joe’s a white, heterosexual male. He’s not exactly had a tough time of it in the grand scheme of things, has he? I think we can objectify him just a tiny bit.’
‘I’m not sure this point of view would stand up to ethical scrutiny,’ I point out, grinning as Frankie rolls her eyes at me.
‘I’m sure he has plenty of other great qualities too,’ she says and smiles. ‘But let’s just say we all appreciate his presence at the school gates. Especially Celeste, her crush is out of control.’
‘You’ve noticed it too?’ I’m relieved to know that someone else has picked up on all the times Celeste has tried to commandeer Joe and all the times she’s been quite rude to me.
‘She’s not exactly subtle about it. I’d feel sorry for Douglas if he weren’t such a complete …’ She pauses to think of the right word.
‘Douglas?’ I offer and Frankie laughs.
We both wave over at a squirming Joe, which he takes as ample excuse to remove himself from Celeste and dashes to us. The look on his face when he pulls up a chair next to us is priceless.
‘Thanks, guys,’ he huffs. ‘Appreciate the support there.’
‘I would have come over but—’
‘You looked like you were really enjoying yourself,’ Frankie jokes. ‘Did Celeste offer to don a nurse’s uniform for you?’
‘That’s a terrifying prospect,’ Joe says and chuckles, before turning his piercing gaze towards me. ‘What happened to your pinky promise?’
‘I am sorry,’ I insist solemnly, trying to look chastised. ‘Frankie and I were just …’
‘Eating croissants and watching the show,’ Frankie chips in. ‘Anyway, you’re a big boy, you can handle yourself! And I’m not just talking about in the bedroom when I say that, by the way. Some of the sex stories Sophie’s been sharing with us …’ Frankie is positively cackling now and she fans herself with a pain aux raisin.
Joe gives me a despairing look as Frankie potters off to the coffee machine.
‘What?’ I protest, and I can’t help but laugh. ‘She’s just teasing you, I haven’t said a word.’
‘I believe you. Millions wouldn’t,’ Joe says as he helps himself to my croissant. ‘I was thinking, maybe I could steal you away this morning?’
In response I cough up some croissant crumbs.
‘Just for a little bit,’ he explains. ‘I know we’re here to spend time with the group but, well, the group is a bit intense. I wouldn’t say no to some breathing space.’
‘I get that,’ I say truthfully. Because as much as it’s good to hang out with everyone, I find myself craving Joe’s company more and more, even though it does strange things to my heart rate. Truth is, when we’re together life feels easier.
‘You do?’ Joe looks so relieved it’s adorable. ‘There’s a beach nearby, maybe we could go for a walk.’
‘I’d like that,’ I say as Tally walks into the kitchen with a green juice in her hand.
‘Morning!’ she calls, looking unbelievably perky after what I hear was a late night for everyone except me and Joe. ‘Can everyone be ready for ten a.m.? The masseuses will be here by then, ready for us all to have couples’ massages, and then after lunch we’re doing a gong bath.’
Joe shoots me a look and I nod.
‘Tally, would you mind if we skipped the couples’ massage?’ he asks. ‘I was planning to steal Sophie away for the morning.’
‘Oh sweet.’ Tally beams. ‘Of course I don’t mind.’
Within seconds of getting out of Joe’s car I’m buffered by a bracing wind which pins me back against the bonnet.
‘Oof!’
‘Winds from the Atlantic,’ Joe calls over as he locks the car and pockets his keys. ‘It’s why this beach is so popular with surfers. Come on!’
I zip up my rain jacket and trot after him, through the car park, down some steps and straight onto a wide expanse of golden sand. The tide is out and I can just make out surfers on brightly coloured boards out at sea. The roar of the wind and the smell of salty air fill my senses.
‘What is it about the beach?’ I wonder as we walk. ‘There’s something mesmerising about it.’
Joe rubs his forearms in a bid to warm up. It may be late April but it is chilly by the sea. ‘It puts everything into perspective. When you come to the coast you can physically see that there is something so much bigger at work out there. I always feel like whatever problems I have melt away when I’m by the sea. It’s the power of the ocean.’
‘That’s very poetic of you, Joe.’ I grin as my trainers squelch on the increasingly soggy sand.
‘I’m a poetic kind of guy.’
We find ourselves walking towards the water and there’s something so nice about being able to drift aimlessly, to just take a break from the sheer admin of life as a single parent. When the sun bursts through the clouds I reach into my bag for sunglasses, squinting into the brightness. We’re standing side by side, staring out at the ocean, when Joe turns to me with a glimmer in his eye.
‘Dare you to go in,’ he says, his voice a challenge.
‘Are you kidding? It’s approximately no degrees out here today.’
‘Wimp.’
‘I am not!’ I protest, moving closer to the water’s edge and reaching down to test the temperature. ‘I can confirm that it is freezing.’
‘First one in the water gets an ice cream.’ Joe’s kicking off his trainers and socks now.
‘I quite clearly am not coming in with you, you fool!’ I laugh happily. ‘So you’re basically competing with yourself.’
By now Joe is striding barefoot towards the water in his shorts.
‘I can see the headlines now,’ I call after him. ‘“Cocky Irishman perishes after ill-advised April dip in Welsh seas”.’
Joe turns and gives me a thumbs up, until his feet hit the water and his face falls.
‘Jesus Christ this is cold!’ he shouts. ‘Maybe I’ll stick with a paddle rather than a full-on swim.’ The sight of him hopping from one foot to another as the waves push against his calves makes me howl with laughter.
‘Come on in!’ he calls. ‘It’s fun.’
And then something weird happens. Practical Sophie takes a back seat and I find myself pulling off my own shoes, rolling my jeans up as high as they’ll go and wading in after him. I can’t decide if it’s my competitive nature, the fact that Joe had the sheer audacity to call me a wimp, or simply just because I want to be a part of the fun.
Sharp intake of breath.
‘OH MY GOD, JOE!’ My teeth clatter.
‘You’ll get used to it,’ he says, that broad grin beaming directly at me as he puts his arm around my shoulder. Instantly Those Confusing Thoughts start pulsing through my mind but this time, I tell myself not to get in a dither. Just enjoy the moment. We’re standing with our feet in the sea while the wind batters us and our bodies keep each other warm-ish. Looking back to land, a few other maniacs are also braving a beach day and we watch a couple of children run towards the water in glee.
‘The kids would love it here,’ Joe says and I know, instinctively, that he’s talking about my daughter as well as Sid, which warms my heart.
‘Okay, you’re shivering, let’s get you back on dry land,’ he says after a while.
‘I think I’ve got hypothermia?’
‘Hypothermia looks good on you so, you know … every cloud.’
‘If I’ve lost the use of my feet, I will be very cross with you, Joe,’ I say, looking down at my very white legs through the water.
‘I’ve no doubt. And Cross Sophie sounds like someone I don’t want to mess with. Ready?’ He holds out his hand and I take it before we gallop out of the sea as fast as physically possible.
‘Oh look! There’s a tiny fish and chip shop over there.’ I point towards a wooden shack painted in bright blue with a kiosk and a small chalkboard menu out front. ‘Fancy lunch? Might help us warm up.’
I grab a picnic bench outside and order steaming hot cups of tea which arrive in chipped enamel mugs. The air is thick with the smell of vinegar. My skin feels like I’ve been for an abrasive exfoliation treatment, buffered by the wind and salty air. Joe walks out of the shack with a paper bag containing a large fish and chips to share. He sits down next to me on one side of the bench and we huddle together and eat, warm and content as we gaze out to sea.
‘It’s funny how life turns out, isn’t it?’ I say after a while, spearing another chip with my little wooden fork.
‘Seaside makes Sophie philosophical,’ says Joe, pretending to pen this down on his ever-growing list of Sophie quirks. I flick a packet of ketchup at him.
‘What I mean is, who’d have thought you and I would end up sat here like this. Freezing our bits off in the North Atlantic Ocean. It’s mad because one minute you’re a kid at school, then in your twenties working towards a career, hurtling yourself towards some unknown goal. Then the next thing you know, you’ve got a child of your own and the hurtling element of it stops. The motion. Do you know what I mean? Suddenly whatever you were propelling yourself towards in your twenties has happened and you’re standing still and taking stock.’ I pause for breath. Joe’s listening intently.
‘I’m waffling,’ I say, spearing some of the freshly caught fish coated in a deliciously light batter.
‘I don’t think you are,’ he says. ‘Your thirties is meant to be a confident era, isn’t it? Personally, I know myself and what I want so much more clearly now.’
He chances a look at me then and I fiddle with a packet of mayo to still my mind.
‘Having said that,’ he continues, ‘it’s daunting to think that we might have made a lot of our big decisions by now. A lot of people are rebelling against that whole idea that you should be married with a couple of kids and a mortgage at our age and I admire that. Because the truth is no one knows what’s around the corner. What’s the point focusing on some arbitrary goals when real life could be passing you by?’
‘So you’re saying you’re embracing the unknown?’
Joe thinks on this. ‘I’m a thirty-five-year-old widower,’ he says after a pause. ‘You’re thirty-three and already out the other side of a divorce. I think it’s fair to say that neither of us expected life to take us down those paths but we’re here.’
‘We’re here.’
‘So, I don’t really see it as standing still. I think there’s so much more to come for us, Sophie. Maybe it’s just that now we’re at the ripe old ages that we are, we can give ourselves a bit more time to make the decisions that feel right for us.’
I get the distinct feeling that Joe is hinting at some decision I might have to make in the future, or not just me but the both of us? But I stubbornly refuse to wrap my brain around what he’s driving at. I’m having too much fun to dwell on any big thoughts right now. So I steal a couple of chips from Joe’s side of the open bag and pop them into my mouth with glee.
‘You’re an outrage, Sophie Rogers. Curry sauce?’ he offers, pulling the lid off a polystyrene pot.
‘Curry sauce is not an acceptable accompaniment to fish and chips!’ I squawk.
‘Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.’ Joe grins, dipping a chip in and eating it with relish.
‘Animal,’ I mutter. ‘Did you get a pickled egg too? Because if so I’m going to have to toy with the idea of ending this plan of ours with immediate effect.’
Joe offers me a fully doused chip and says: ‘Live a little.’
I scowl at him. Then I try it.
And I like it.
‘Have fun?’ asks Frankie as we clatter into the hallway. She’s in a towelling robe with her hair completely slicked back off her face.
Joe and I share a look. ‘Yeah, we did,’ we reply in unison. After the fish and chips we laughed over the pictures our parents sent us of the kids. Lila persuaded Mum to let her wear the bright orange pumpkin-shaped sumo suit to the playground, of all places, and she even managed to squeeze onto a swing in it. Denise had messaged Joe to say that Sidney went to sleep asking what a cheese fondue was. And then we found ourselves sharing some of the other batshit things our children have come out with. By the time we were back in the car and heading back to the barn, I felt restored.
‘Well, I’m Zen as fuck,’ Frankie says. ‘Massages all day long! Everyone else got roped into the gong bath but that seemed like a load of pretentious shit to me, so I persuaded the masseuses to stay a little longer. Feel this.’
She pulls back an arm of her robe and I stroke her skin.
‘Ooh, soft!’ I say appreciatively.
‘I know! Everyone’s getting ready for tonight now.’
‘Right, maybe we should do the same?’ I shoot Joe a look.
‘Did you get the sequins memo, Joe?’
‘Did I get the what?’
‘Just kidding,’ she belly-laughs. ‘Tally is wearing sequins for our fancy dinner tonight though. She’s been on that bloody phone all day telling her fans about a big outfit reveal later. I don’t understand it but then I only have eighty-six followers on Instagram.’
With that, Frankie potters off to her room and Joe and I follow suit. I’m halfway through curling my eyelashes when my phone pings with a message.
Sophie Rogers + Guest
Alexis and Chase are getting hitched!
Please join us to celebrate, 10th July from midday
An invite with a plus one? Usually when it comes to weddings I’m invited on my own and squeezed onto a table of couples.
‘I just got invited to an old friend’s wedding,’ I call through to Joe in the bathroom, keen to share. ‘Alexis and I grew up in the same village and Poppy’s doing her wedding photography.’
‘I love a good wedding,’ replies Joe.
It’s really thoughtful of Alexis to give me the chance to bring a friend. And now that I think about it, Joe would be the perfect addition, mostly because we’d have a right laugh, but it would also fit in well with the progress of our ‘romance’ I guess.
‘Wanna come with me?’ I ask.
‘Sure, sounds great. As you already know, I am exceptional on the dancefloor,’ he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. I turn back to the mirror and wriggle out of my jeans. Not sure what to expect the others would wear, I’d packed a few evening options, but given the sheer scale of this lavish pad and the fact that Tally doesn’t do things by halves, I’ve decided to go all out. A one-shoulder, burnt-orange dress with heels. I’ve gone for big hair and a strong lipstick, too.
Joe comes out of the bathroom looking smarter than I’ve seen him before. He’s ditched his trademark look – sexy intellectual lumberjack – and is wearing a striped shirt tucked into smart blue trousers with a blazer. Even I can see that this get-up looks good against his pale skin and deep brown hair and really I have got to stop having inappropriate thoughts about Joe soon.
‘You look great,’ I say.
‘Thanks.’ As he turns to look at me he exhales and averts his gaze almost instantly. ‘So do you.’
Feeling uncharacteristically bashful, I say: ‘Shall we do this?’
‘Let’s,’ he says, and I link my arm through his.
As well as an impeccable meal with wines paired to each course, there are candles glittering on every surface, the words ‘hello forty’ written across a wall in strip lights, vibrant flower displays along the large dining table and even a magician to keep us entertained in between courses. Frankie, who’s putting the sparkling wine to good use, has mistaken tonight for a hen do and keeps asking him if he’s here to take his clothes off, much to my amusement.
‘Bloody hell,’ says her partner Dave after the third heckle. ‘Shall I just get my kit off instead?’
‘Hell no,’ Frankie insists, motioning towards his crotch. ‘We’ve got three kids, Dave. You’re keeping that thing locked up until you’ve had the snip.’
Even Celeste and Douglas seem to be enjoying the bawdy chat. I find Celeste loitering by a balloon display after the fourth course. Or is it fifth? I’m losing count.
‘I like your dress,’ I say to her.
‘Oh, thank you. I spent an age wondering what to wear tonight. Tally’s always so fashionable that I feel a bit frumpy by comparison.’
I’m surprised by this sudden chink in her armour.
‘For what it’s worth I always think you’re very chic, like a classic English rose. I loved that you turned up to Sassy Sylvia’s in a Chanel suit.’
‘You did?’
I nod. ‘Not that you can really take my word for it when it comes to fashion. Up until recently, my little sister told me I dressed like a pallbearer.’
Celeste laughs. ‘That’s sisters for you. A pain in the bottom. Actually Sophie, I’ve been hoping to have a little one to one with you this weekend.’
‘Oh?’
Celeste takes a sip of her red wine and gives me a curious look. ‘I wanted to apologise. I wasn’t the most welcoming back in September when we first all met. I saw this successful single mum and honestly, I think I was a bit jealous.’
Well, blow me down!
‘And so I sort of didn’t make an effort. I shouldn’t have done that. Oscar’s so fond of Lila so it was churlish not to invite her to his party. The thing is, I rely on Douglas for everything. I’ve put aside my chance to have a career so I can support him and seeing you holding the family fort all on your own, well, I was envious. And then there came the romance with Joe and …’ she trails off.
I don’t know what to say. My mouth is dangling open. It’s an effort just to shut it.
‘Thank you,’ I say eventually. ‘For your honesty. I really appreciate it, Celeste. You know, it’s never too late to pursue a career if that’s what you want?’
She smiles wistfully. ‘Maybe. Once the elections are over, I’ll give it some serious thought.’
We turn to look back at the table and Joe gives me an are-you-okay look. I beam back.
‘You’re good for him,’ Celeste says as we make our way back for yet more food. ‘He’s so much more relaxed now.’
I feel like I’m floating on a cloud of success and also birthday cake. Tally had two cakes to celebrate, naturally. One’s a pavlova in the shape of the number forty, covered in fresh fruit, and the second is a three-tier buttercream creation covered in gold leaf and macarons. I sampled both, several times with no regrets, and now we’re being ushered outside for what’s being called the grand finale.
‘But it’s pitch-black!’ Frankie protests.
‘I’ve got the firepit going,’ Jude, who’s standing on the terrace, calls back inside. ‘Come on out!’
Joe grabs my hand as we file outside. It’s another moment I decide not to question what we are doing because
a. I like it and
b. I just don’t want to deal with my feelings right now.
This Welsh air has a lot to answer for.
Overhead a mesmerising firework display starts popping and fizzing in the night sky. We ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ at the juddering flashes of colour and light. When I shiver Joe gallantly wraps his blazer around my shoulders and I nestle in to his residual warmth.
Tally has cuddled up to Jude with one hand holding out her phone as she streams the display. Frankie and Dave are leaning against each other like they’re propping themselves up. Celeste and Douglas are holding hands. Olivia and Nish are snuggled up on a bench. Mel’s trying to get her husband to down a pint of water because she’s worried about hydration.
I look back at Joe, caught off guard to find that he’s already peering down at me through those dark eyelashes. The look in his eyes is deeply intense. Sensible Sophie would crack a joke about him working overtime on the romance ruse, but I realise with a jolt that she is long gone.
Instead I feel myself matching his gaze, poised on the precipice of something I don’t want to overthink.
‘Sophie,’ Joe says softly in that confusingly delicious accent of his. ‘I …’ he trails off, a frown crossing his face as he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. He catches the cut and flinches.
Without thinking, I reach my thumb up to touch it tenderly.
And just like that, there is nothing but us, no one else here in this moment. My entire focus is drawn to the way he is biting his lip, evidently in turmoil over what to say or do. I wait for him to finish his sentence but Joe is out of words. Instead he reaches his hand up to the side of my face, his thumb stroking along my jawline so slowly that I forget how to breathe.
I let out a gasp and it sets a fire burning in Joe’s eyes.
I have no idea how long we stand like this. The way he’s watching me is like he’s asking a question, waiting for an answer. Even if I knew what it was, I couldn’t reply because my mind has completely emptied of rational thought. The feeling of his thumb on my jaw swirls through my body, taking up all of my headspace.
It moves in oh-so-slow increments up to my earlobe, my hairline, and I don’t think I can stand this much longer. I am instantly and utterly overwhelmed with desire.
The fireworks are reflected in the blue pools of his pupils. He ducks his head closer, closer, until I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. My head instinctively tips up, searching him out. Our lips meet with unquestionable urgency. Hearts beat at the same fast pace. Hands run down backs until we’re lost in an all-consuming kiss. A kiss that takes up every atom of my body.
The clock stops.