Chapter 30
Hey, can we talk?
Delete delete delete. I keep typing out this message to Joe and then not sending it. On Monday, as my finger hovered over send, the internet at home went down so I spent most of the evening on hold with my provider. And I definitely couldn’t send it on Tuesday because I had to catch up on work after Monday’s internet meltdown. By Wednesday I was bracing myself to try and resolve things with Joe but Lila was uncharacteristically tearful at pick-up so we ended up having a night of cuddles and an early bedtime. And on Thursday, with the talk long overdue, it felt increasingly like a very hard thing to do and I persuaded myself that a mani and pedi were my top priority.
Now it’s Friday, wedding weekend, and it will have to wait because I’ve got a very excitable Lila to deal with. Her enthusiasm is infectious and I try to focus on the positives. Getting rid of Mark once and for all has been a huge boost. I’m so relieved that I don’t have to put Lila through any of that and I really want to enjoy this weekend in Cornwall with my family. A change of scene is just what I need to clear my head. No doubt it’ll be easier to chat to Joe when I’m back and feeling refreshed.
He’ll have had another meeting in York by then, my brain reminds me. The whole move will be a done deal.
But I can’t change that. Joe’s leaving. All I can do is let him know that Mark was never an issue. That I’ll miss him. That I’m sorry.
The car is heaving with stuff when I pick Lila up from school on Friday, realising as I pull up that we’re just a couple of weeks away from the end of term. How did that happen? I wonder as I give a bucket and spade a shove, trying to close the car boot. It’s possible I’ve overpacked. I’ve also got about ten outfit changes for Lila in case of spillages, a cool bag full of snacks, enough travel entertainment options to get us to Australia and back, plus a bag filled with clothes for me too. I bought a beautiful dress, which is hanging in a clothes bag behind the driver’s seat.
‘Are we nearly there yet?’ asks Lila as I secure her seatbelt.
‘The car hasn’t even moved,’ I object, racing round to my side and starting the engine. She’s got a point. It’s a long journey down south and I want to get out of Bristol before rush hour.
‘Can we swim in the sea? Can I eat an ice cream? Can we have fish and chips with Granny and Grandpa? Will Auntie Poppy be taking photos all day? Have you got any snacks?’
Hoo boy, this is going to be a long three hours. I hand her a packet of raisins from a stash in the drinks well and make a start on the questions.
We’ve played I Spy so many times that I’m willing for some kind of atmospheric miracle to come our way and provide new inspiration for the game. A rainbow, a tornado … anything to stop the next word being tree, road or car. I’m so busy scouring the scene for ideas that I almost miss the sign for the hotel.
‘I can see the sea!’ Lila cheers as we weave along a single-track, winding road down towards the coast. I follow the drive to a grand hotel nestled into one corner of a bay. The ornate stone building is flanked by turrets and a huge stone staircase leads up to the entrance, where doors are flung open and a rack of wellie boots stands to one side.
‘Ooh!’ says Lila.
There don’t appear to be any signs for a car park so I drive right up to the front. Surely I can’t leave my car here? It feels like this spot should be reserved for classic cars only, like an old Triumph in British racing green.
A man in a suit appears by my side and I wind the window down.
‘Welcome, Miss Rogers and Miss Lila! Please follow me.’
‘But the car? And what about all of our stuff?’ I protest. And how do you know our names, I don’t add.
‘Our valet will park your car, madam, if you wouldn’t mind handing over the key, and our porters are here for your luggage. My name is Reginald, your butler, and I’ll be here throughout your stay. May I show you around?’
So, it turns out that we’re staying in the swankiest hotel I’ve seen in my life. Despite being right next to the actual sea, this place boasts three swimming pools. Three! One is bigger than an Olympic pool and stretches from inside to out thanks to a beautifully constructed glass atrium with a missing wall at one end. There’s a library, a bar, four dining areas, a spa, a golf course and then there’s the kids’ club. I will write poems in praise of the kids’ club for the rest of my life.
We find Mum and Dad unpacked and enjoying a cup of tea in their room, balcony doors flung open and a sea breeze rippling the toile curtains. Mum’s got her towelling robe already on and Dad suggests a room service tea, which is a great idea because I sense that Lila is one to two seconds away from an exhaustion-infused meltdown.
Half an hour later, full on club sandwiches with a side of fries, Lila has curled into a ball on Mum’s bed and fallen asleep.
‘It’s a shame lovely Joe can’t make it,’ Mum mentions as I collect up our stuff.
‘It is,’ I agree. ‘He got caught up with work.’
‘I rather got the impression from Poppy that you and he might be more than friends?’
‘What?’ I squawk. Bloody Poppy. She was ‘totally devo’, in her words, that Joe had pulled out of the wedding. After getting tied up in knots over what to say to her about the whole mess, I decided to hold off on the break-up just yet and stick with the truth, that he couldn’t come because of work. I haven’t mentioned York, or the fake split, or anything else because I can’t face it. So my plan is to get through this weekend with the family unscathed and then, because I’ll be refreshed and feeling brave enough to have a conversation with Joe without wanting to cry, I’ll see what he thinks about when we should announce the split.
‘She hasn’t said anything,’ Mum says, quickly stepping in to defend my sister. ‘It was just a … what do you kids call it? A vibe! I was getting a vibe from the two of you.’
‘What kind of vibe?’
‘A romantic vibe.’
‘Right, well, no. No romance for Sophie! You know me, Mum.’
With one of her looks Mum lets me know that my attempt to brush this under the carpet has failed dramatically. She takes my hand.
‘You know Dad and I are so proud of you for everything you’ve achieved on your own. Raising Lila, the business—’
‘I left the business a long time ago, Mum,’ I cut in.
‘I’m not talking about Mylk It! I’m talking about your business. The art gallery in Bath, the seafood truck in Bristol, Joe’s mum, Akoni and all of your other clients! You’ve done so much since you left Mylk It, sometimes I worry that you don’t give yourself enough credit for those new achievements. Akoni’s new menu is so wonderful. He told me you helped him do it all, that you encouraged his idea to stick with British food with a modern twist. And the pub is always busy. I don’t know if it would be without you.’
Hmm. Mother may have a point.
‘Take stock, Sophie. Appreciate everything you have done under your own steam. You’re a powerhouse, darling. But how long do you have to go on proving yourself, by yourself?’
‘I don’t think I’m trying to prove anything, Mum.’
‘Are you sure?’
That night I toss and turn as I think on what Mum said. Is she right? I can’t have allowed the success of Mylk It to overshadow everything I’ve achieved since then, can I? I work my way through all six pillows on my bed, trying to get comfy.
I thought I’d been so focused on moving forwards, on getting shit done all by myself. Setting up home, raising Lila, leaving behind a bad man and a bad marriage. But while I have achieved all of those things in a practical sense – I mean, I am physically and literally disentangled from all of life before Lila – maybe I haven’t caught up on an emotional level?
The realisation is unsettling. Have I been so hell-bent on proving myself as a success in my own right that I’ve been completely blind to something that’s been staring me right in the face these past five months?
I want to be proud of myself for everything I’ve achieved and accept that there might be new chapters to come. Maybe I haven’t done either. I remember something that Poppy had said to me, that my relationship with Mark shouldn’t be the last relationship I ever had. And she was right. I need to realise it is okay when I make a mistake. So perhaps a decision I thought was for the best might actually not be the case any longer?
As my thoughts stop me from sinking into sleep, I come to the only natural conclusion: I have been too quick to rule out love, after all. I remember what Joe said to me at the café after The Kiss. When he’d told me he liked me more than just friends. We both have to want it, right?
I do want it. I’ve always wanted it. I’ve just been too scared by what might happen if things go wrong.
But things did go wrong with Mark, and I survived.
And things won’t go wrong with Joe.
And then I remember York.
Of course. Things have already gone wrong with Joe.
I wake up unsettled by last night’s thought process and very, very aware that I’m on a wedding weekend in Cornwall, a million miles away from the person I desperately need to talk to. Joe.
Meanwhile Poppy is freaking out at the breakfast buffet.
‘I’ve forgotten the order of the shot list,’ she panics, her camera hanging from a strap around her neck. ‘Is it Alexis’s room for the getting-ready pictures or am I doing the groom and his groomsmen first? Argh.’
‘You always were disorganised,’ Mum points out, which doesn’t exactly help.
‘Bloody hell, Mum!’ Poppy’s face has fallen, her croissant left discarded on the table. ‘I’m going to mess this up, aren’t I? It’s my first ever wedding and I already can’t remember the schedule. What if I miss out on a really important part of the day and Alexis hates me forever and—’
‘Pop?’ Adam puts a reassuring hand on my sister’s shoulder. She visibly soothes under his calming touch. ‘It’s Alexis getting ready first and then you’re heading over to shoot the groomsmen midmorning.’
She stares at him curiously.
‘Thought it might be best to double check the list,’ Adam explains with a little shrug and a smile as he grabs a pain aux raisin. ‘You’ve got this,’ he tells Poppy. ‘I’ll be here the whole time and I’ve got the list on my phone so I can make sure you’re on track. Not that you’ll need me because you’re going to be brilliant.’
Mum is melting like candlewax at the breakfast table.
Even Dad looks quite impressed with lovely Adam’s adorable pep talk.
‘You’re my hero,’ Poppy says, chirpy self-belief restored, while Adam’s cheeks flush. ‘You’re right, of course. I am going to be brilliant.’
My sister stuffs the croissant back into her gob and grabs Adam by the arm. ‘Let’s do this.’
With Lila deposited at the kids’ club, where the arts and craft section makes the Tate Modern look a bit meh, I’m dressed and downstairs ready for the wedding. I’m also, apparently, no longer immune to the romance factor. Whereas before I’d smile distantly as the groom teared up on first sight of his bride-to-be, safe in the knowledge that all of this was not for me, today I find myself welling up too. My heart is a mess. I’ve told myself over and over that I don’t need a man, convinced that I’d made the most empowering decision and I had. But things change. I’ve changed. And Mum was right. What else do I have left to prove? The truth is I’m rattled by Joe not being here. I’m at one of the most gorgeous hotels I’ve ever been to, and everyone is in a great mood and I’m getting time to myself, but I miss him. I don’t just miss him. I need him. And I’ve realised it too late.
Somehow I manage to get through the wedding. Alexis looks utterly stunning in an ivory calf-length dress that has a wide neckline and little puff sleeves trimmed with pearls. Her new husband Chase looks every inch the all-American hunk and when I watch them take their first dance my heart melts. And then people are dancing and I rally. My daughter tucks into the wedding cake with such gusto that she has buttercream on her nose. By the time we’re on our third boogie together Lila is flagging, so I take her back to our room and get her settled. Lila’s in a bunk room attached to mine and after a few technical hitches, I get the hotel’s baby monitoring system working. Slipping the tablet — where I can see and hear Lila sleeping away in her room — into my bag, I potter back to the reception.
I find Adam propping up the bar, looking uncharacteristically morose.
‘What’s up?’
‘Weddings,’ he says, eyes cast down. ‘Weddings are up.’
‘No, no no,’ I reply. ‘We can’t have you feeling sorry for yourself as well. Weddings are supposed to be fun.’
Adam frowns at me. ‘It’s just that I’d quite like one of my own but the person I’m in love with sees me as a friend.’
I grab his hand eagerly.
‘You’re talking about …’
He gives me such a forlorn look that I want to bundle him up and put him in my pocket.
‘Poppy.’ He nods hopelessly.
‘OH MY GOD.’
‘I know, it’s pointless.’ He drops his gaze. ‘Utterly pointless. She’s, well, she’s everything, isn’t she? Funny and energetic and kind and stunning and I don’t know why I’m telling you this but I’ve had a few beers now and actually, Sophie, I’ve been in love with her forever.’
‘I know.’
‘You know? Is it that obvious?’
‘Well …’ I don’t want to make him feel worse, so I move swiftly on. ‘Have you talked to her?’
‘What would I say? “Hi completely out of my league woman who I live with, not to sound creepy but I love you!”’ he says, pained.
I try not to laugh at this. ‘Adam! Stop doing yourself a disservice. You are an excellent human being. How many people spend their weekends blowing up animal balloons for their best friend’s sister’s kid’s party? How many people give up their home on the regular for a meeting of dorks?’
‘Romantic Poetry Appreciation Society,’ he butts in with a smile.
‘Same same. How many people memorise the list of photographs and then spend a day trailing after the photographer just to help out? I’m telling you now, not that many. Poppy would be lucky to have you.’
‘You think so?’
‘Yes!’
‘She’s just … amazing,’ he exhales.
‘Well, steady on,’ I joke. ‘She’s actually a huge pain in the ass. Infuriating, nosy, extremely bossy …’
‘I know,’ Adam says with a dopey smile on his face.
‘You should go and tell her.’ I nudge him. ‘You might be pleasantly surprised.’
He’s pulling a face when my phone lights up on the bar between us and for the briefest second I wonder if it’s Joe. If for some reason he’s decided to come to the wedding anyway. If he’s abandoned York plans and has decided to stay. But the bubble is quickly burst when I realise it’s just the Barnaby’s Babes group chat.
Tally: Here’s the link guys! “How to give your vagina some tlc.”
Adam’s eyebrows shoot up.
‘Crikey,’ he splutters. ‘Should I leave you to it?’
‘Ha ha, no! It’s just my friend Tally, she’s been threatening to put up a post about vagina health for ages. I’ll, um, read it later,’ I say, turning my phone to silent and slipping it back into my bag.
‘That’s actually cheered me up, thanks, Soph.’ He chuckles.
‘Glad I could be of assistance!’
‘Right, my turn. You quite clearly need cheering up too. It’s Joe, isn’t it?’
Does everyone know?! Clearly I’ve reached the can’t-hide-it-anymore stage.
‘I’ve royally messed up there, Adam.’
‘Want to talk about it?’ he asks kindly.
‘There’s a lot to tell,’ I waver. ‘But, long story short, I’ve been pushing him away and now he is literally leaving and it’s my fault.’
Adam demolishes his bottle of beer. ‘Oh man, sorry to hear that. Is it too late to fix it?’
I think about Joe’s meeting in York tomorrow to finalise the job offer and the fact that even if I tried to salvage our friendship – let alone anything else – now, I’d be too late.
‘Yup,’ I reply, slugging the last of my own drink. I can already feel tomorrow’s hangover wiping me out.
‘Well, that’s shit. I’m sorry, Soph. You know, Poppy told me what had happened with Mark. For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing sending him packing. Not turning up when he was meant to meet Lila was so off.’
Sometimes I forget that Adam’s been a part of this family forever. It’s so reassuring to hear this from him and I’m also pleased that Poppy talks to him like this.
‘Thank you.’ I squeeze his hand. ‘I think so too. I just realised that Mark was always going to let Lila down and I’m not having that. I want to surround her by people who care for her and put her first. Like me, Mum and Dad, you and Poppy …’
‘And Joe?’ Adam suggests with a knowing look.
‘And Joe,’ I echo as the words sink in. Joe is always there for Lila. He’s not showy or brash about it but he has become a constant in her life. And suddenly, the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle clicks right into place. All this time I’ve been ruling love out for my daughter’s sake. I can’t get tangled up in a relationship, I thought, because of the impact it might have on her. How did I fail to see how much Joe has already enriched her life? How much his reassuring presence has helped me create a more rounded childhood for my daughter. Mark’s been letting Lila down since day one, but Joe? Not once.
Suddenly the emotions I’ve been doing my damnedest to bury come pinging right up to the surface. Feeling this way about Joe isn’t a risk! It’s an opportunity for something wonderful in my life. And Mum was right to question how I’m always trying to prove myself. I’m done. And now it’s time to listen to my heart. Never mind waiting for him to get back from York. If I leave first thing in the morning, maybe I can catch him before he goes? And when I do, I’m going to tell Joe Kitson that I have very big, very real feelings for him.
But first, I need my little sister.