Chapter 13
When they’d cleared up after breakfast, they got ready to go skating, bundling up against the cold in gloves, hats and scarves.
They met Jonathan, Rocco and Sam at the ice rink.
Rocco was wearing a beanie pulled down low over his brow and a scarf covering his chin, but he was still attracting some surreptitious looks and whispers as they waited to collect their skates.
‘I hope you’ll still respect me after spending the morning watching me falling on my arse,’ Jonathan said to Aoife.
‘You’re not good at skating?’ she asked him.
He shook his head. ‘Never tried. Can’t say I’ve ever been tempted.’
‘He hates snow and ice,’ Sam said cheerfully.
‘I can’t stand that feeling of your legs going from under you,’ Jonathan said.
‘Oh, why didn’t you say?’
‘Well, I’m sitting it out.’ Sive made a rueful grimace. ‘I twisted my ankle.’
‘Oh no!’ Sam said, his face falling.
‘So I’m just here for the hot chocolate. You can join me if you like,’ Sive said to Jonathan.
‘Or you could just cling onto me,’ Aoife said.
‘That’s why I didn’t say.’ Jonathan grinned.
When they’d collected their skates, they sat on one of the wide benches in the changing area to put them on.
‘You can all skate?’ Jonathan asked.
Mimi nodded. ‘We come every year, though Sive’s the best. She’s done a lot more than Aoife and I.
She’s taken classes, naturally,’ she added dryly.
Sive’s sisters had always lightly teased her about the plethora of classes she was fond of taking to add more special skills to her CV.
Aside from the usual things like fencing, dance and martial arts that graced many an actor’s resume, hers also boasted more esoteric talents such as juggling, beatboxing and pottery.
She’d done barista training, carpentry and knife skills classes and was proficient in an ever-growing rollcall of dance styles, from ballroom to flamenco to swing.
She’d learned to knit and crochet, practised Aikido and gymnastics, could shoot a gun and fillet fish – anything that might come in handy for a part and bump her to the top of a casting director’s list.
‘Mimi’s an excellent skater too,’ she said. ‘What about you, Sam?’
‘I can stay up,’ he said with a grin, ‘but that’s about the best that can be said for me. I can’t do any fancy moves, like triple axels or anything.’
Sive laughed. ‘None of us can do triple axels. But I could show you a waltz jump or a toe loop. If I wasn’t grounded,’ she added. She’d almost forgotten for a moment that she couldn’t join the others on the ice. Pregnancy was frustrating! And this was only the beginning.
‘Why don’t I keep you company?’ Sam said to her. ‘We can drink hot chocolate with marshmallows and get hopped up on sugar while we watch this lot making fools of themselves.’
‘Don’t be silly. Have a skate. It’s fun. And I’m perfectly happy watching. There’ll be plenty of hot chocolate and marshmallows afterwards. I promise I won’t scoff the lot.’
Sam regarded her for a moment in silence as if deciding whether she meant it, then shrugged. ‘Okay,’ he said with an affable smile.
They moved to the rink and Sive stood by the perimeter among the small group of onlookers, who mainly seemed to be parents.
The ice gleamed under the bright lights and the scent of hot chocolate and popcorn drifted from the nearby concession stands.
She watched as Rocco and Mimi stepped onto the rink, a little ripple of excitement running through the skaters as some of them spotted Rocco.
But they acted cool and no one bothered him.
‘Look at this spanner!’ Sam laughed, appearing beside Sive and nodding across the rink, where Jonathan was stepping gingerly onto the ice, clinging to the side with both hands.
‘Poor Jonathan! You shouldn’t mock.’ But Sive couldn’t help laughing as Jonathan inched his way around, hugging the barrier while little kids zipped past him. She watched as Aoife took his hand and coaxed him to let go and allow her to lead him away from the edge.
Mimi and Rocco were both confident skaters and they looked so beautiful together, gliding gracefully across the ice hand-in-hand, spinning and twirling.
‘Well, go on,’ she said to Sam. ‘Let’s see what you’ve got.’
As Sam made his way onto the rink, she got a hot chocolate and found a seat by the side where she could watch.
Sam had underplayed his abilities. He was a decent skater and had the kind of confidence that allowed him to relax and throw himself into it – unlike his brother whose body was still rigid with fear.
She found her gaze drifting to the mums – clinging to small mittened hands as they shepherded wobbly children around the ice, while others stood on the sidelines buttoning coats, wiping noses and cleaning hands and faces sticky with chocolate.
They seemed so grown-up, so together. It was impossible to believe that next year she’d be one of them when she felt like she still needed a maternal hand to cling to herself.
Instead of making her feel more adult, so far pregnancy only made her long for someone to mother her – someone who would button her coat and buy her marshmallows and tell her everything would be all right.
When their session was up, the others joined her, shaking her out of her melancholy thoughts. They pulled up extra chairs and unloaded a tray of hot drinks and chocolate-dipped strawberries and marshmallows onto the table.
‘That was fun,’ Sam said, plonking down beside Sive and grabbing a cup of hot chocolate. His face was flushed and glowing from the cold, and Sive had an almost overwhelming urge to burrow into his side and lay her head on his shoulder. He looked so solid and strong.
‘That’s one word for it,’ Jonathan said dryly.
‘You’re not a convert?’ Aoife asked, her lips twitching.
‘I don’t think I’ll be making it a regular thing.’
‘You’re very good,’ Sive told Sam.
‘Thank you.’ He grinned. ‘We should come back another time, when your ankle’s better, and you can show me some tricks.’
‘Yeah,’ Sive said faintly. ‘We must do that.’
They chatted happily as they warmed up over hot drinks, then they went to an Italian restaurant for lunch. It was already busy with shoppers and families out for the day, but they managed to get a booth at the back. It was blissfully warm and cosy inside.
A waitress led them to their table and asked if any of them had allergies as she handed them menus. Everyone said no, and Sive automatically did too, but then she did a double take. ‘Oh, hang on – I’m not sure. I think I might be allergic to … cheese?’ She looked to Aoife, who shrugged.
‘You don’t know if you’re allergic?’ Sam asked, with a bemused smile.
‘I … can’t remember. I think maybe certain types,’ she said distractedly as she grabbed her phone and held it in her lap underneath the table while she quickly googled foods that you shouldn’t eat when you were pregnant. ‘No, I’m all good,’ she said, looking up at the waitress. ‘No allergies here.’
She caught Rocco looking at her quizzically.
‘None for me, thanks,’ she said, covering her glass as Jonathan went to pour her some wine. ‘Day drinking doesn’t really agree with me.’
Once again she found Rocco giving her a puzzled look. Could he guess? But he didn’t say anything, and they all chatted easily as they warmed up over delicious pizzas with charred bubbled crusts.
When they’d finished, Mimi and Rocco left to hit the shops.
‘Do you want to do any shopping?’ Jonathan asked Aoife.
‘I probably should, but I really don’t feel like it.’
‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘Me either.’
‘Do you want to come home with us?’ Aoife asked Sive.
Sive looked to Sam. ‘What do you think? We could go shopping, or there’s the cinema.’ She really should let Jonathan drive her home, but she wanted to prolong her time with Sam. And sitting side by side in a cinema wasn’t a romantically charged activity.
‘I fancy seeing a movie,’ Sam said with a smile.
‘Great! Me too.’ She pulled her phone from her pocket. ‘Let’s see what’s on.’
They talked through the options and settled on a romantic comedy with Sandra Bullock. ‘Are you sure?’ Sive asked. ‘I’m happy to see something else if you’d prefer.’
‘No, I love Sandra Bullock. And I have a secret addiction to romcoms.’
‘Not so secret,’ Jonathan said teasingly. ‘He’s been perving over Sandra Bullock since he was knee-high to a grasshopper.’
‘Please!’ Sam said, hand on heart. ‘My feelings for Sandra are pure.’
‘Like a knight of old,’ Sive said, laughing.
‘She was my first great unrequited love.’
‘Well, you have excellent taste.’ Though Sive was almost starting to feel jealous of Sandra Bullock.
Sam booked the tickets on his phone, and they said goodbye to Aoife and Jonathan outside the restaurant.
Darkness had fallen while they were having lunch and the large illuminated fountain was putting on a spectacular display, jets of rainbow-hued water shooting into the air like fireworks before falling to earth again.
A fine mist from the spray hung in the air.
‘Alone at last!’ Sam said, turning to Sive as Aoife and Jonathan disappeared into the shopping centre, heading for the car park.
His eyes glittered, intent on hers as he took her hand, his breath clouding in the air between them.
Sive told herself it was okay to let him hold her hand.
She was wearing gloves, so it wasn’t intimate like skin-on-skin contact would have been and it felt so nice.
But then his gaze dropped to her mouth and he was leaning in closer. ‘I’ve wanted to do this for the longest time,’ he murmured. But just as he was about to kiss her, he glanced over Sive’s shoulder and pulled back. ‘Oh, god.’ His face was grim.
‘What?’ Sive turned to see what had caught his eye.
‘Sophie,’ Sam breathed as a woman Sive vaguely recognised walked towards them.
‘Sam! Fancy meeting you here.’ Sophie smiled at him then shifted her gaze to Sive, giving her the once-over. ‘You’re Sive, right? Sophie.’ She pointed to herself.
‘Yes.’ Sive nodded. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘So, how’re you doing, Sam?’
‘Yeah, good. Great.’ Sam had plastered a smile to his face the minute Sophie reached them, but there was a definite rictus quality to it.
‘You look good.’
‘So do you.’
Sophie did look good. Whippet-thin and perfectly groomed, soft grey leggings were moulded to her long, coltish legs and her feet were encased in a pair of brown Ugg boots, while her snug white puffa jacket was as stylish as it was practical.
Her glossy dark hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders and her face was perfectly made-up, her kohl-lined eyes framed by long lashes thick with mascara.
Sive instantly felt scruffy and frumpish next to her.
‘Well, I have to go,’ Sophie said. ‘I’m meeting the girls at The Porthouse. But it was good to see you, Sam.’
‘Yeah, you too.’
She gave Sive a little wave and skipped off towards the steps.
Sam heaved a sigh. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Now, where were we?’ His fixed smile was replaced by a genuine one as he took Sive’s hand and leaned in again.
His lips barely touched hers, and Sive yearned with every fibre of her being to wrap her arms around him, lean into his body and kiss him back. Instead, she pulled away.
‘Sorry.’ Sam pulled back instantly. He dropped his head, but she’d already caught the look of hurt and confusion on his face.
‘No, it’s fine. I’m sorry.’
‘I thought…’ He broke off, raking a hand through his hair. ‘I’m an idiot.’
‘No, you’re not. It’s not that I don’t want to. I really like you, Sam, just—’
He nodded. ‘Not in that way,’ he finished for her.
‘Sure. I get it.’ He paused a beat before continuing.
‘I have sort of had the feeling you’ve been avoiding me lately?
’ It was said in his usual cheerful, affable tone, but Sive could hear the hurt underlying the words.
Damn! Why hadn’t she gone home with Aoife and Jonathan when she had the chance?
‘I mean, I thought … Maybe I got the wrong end of the stick, but cards on the table, I really like you, Sive and I thought…’
‘I really like you too. It’s just …’ She cast around for something to say.
‘Too soon?’ Sam’s eyes were full of understanding.
‘Yes!’ Sive latched onto the excuse gratefully.
‘You could have just said, you know. I don’t want to pressure you.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. My head is a bit of a mess at the moment. I was with Ben for such a long time – all my adult life, really – and it’s only been a few weeks…’
Sam nodded. ‘I get it. I can wait until the time is right – whenever you’re ready.’
Sive was melting with relief that things could be normal between her and Sam again.
They could carry on being friends and she wouldn’t have to avoid being alone with him or come up with excuses for not dating him.
But she still felt guilty at the thought of him waiting for her, when he didn’t have all the facts.
‘Maybe it’s not a great idea, though, you and me. I mean, it would be lovely. But you’re a friend, and I don’t want to mess that up.’
‘And I probably would mess it up.’
‘No! That’s not what I’m saying.’
‘Is this why you were trying to pair me off with Orla?’
‘Maybe.’ Sive smiled guiltily. ‘But you should feel free to go out with other people. I just don’t want you to wait because … what if the time is never right?’
Sam shrugged. ‘I’ll take my chances. And in the meantime, we’ll still be friends.’ He took Sive’s hand again. ‘Is this okay?’
Sive nodded. It was more than okay.
Sam glanced at his watch. ‘Right. Let’s go watch Sandra get her man.’