Page 149 of The Honeymoon Affair

‘And the age gap?’ Mum gives me a wary look. ‘That’s OK?’

‘I don’t even notice it,’ I say. ‘What I do notice, though, is that he’s a mature person. Appearances don’t matter to him. He’s not a slave to fashion. The only thing he’s obsessed with is his writing.’

‘And his divorce?’

‘Coming along,’ I assure her. ‘He’s hoping it’ll be signed and sealed by the summer. And we could have the wedding at his house. It’s gorgeous,’ I add. ‘I love it there. The rooms are amazing, and there’s a fabulous garden.’

I don’t say anything about the mews at the back of it. I’m suddenly imagining Ariel working from home on the day of our wedding, staring out of the window at the celebrations. I shudder.

We haven’t heard anything from her in ages, and there’s been no sign of her any time I’ve been at Riverside Lodge. She hasn’t come out of the mews to take phone calls as she used to, and there hasn’t been any hint of a Freedom Friday bottle of wine. I don’t like to think I’ve vanquished a love rival, but I most certainly have put my foot down, and it seems to have worked.

We talk about Charles and the wedding for ages, then the topic switches to my brother and his family, and Mum and Dad produce photos and videos of the boys and Azaria that melt my heart. I say that I’ll definitely have to visit and meet my niece and nephews, although it’ll probably be next year by the time I can do it.

‘Have you and Charles discussed a family?’ asks Mum, when Dad leaves the kitchen for a moment. I tell her about his terror of being a stay-at-home dad. She laughs, but when I say it won’t be for a while yet, she advises me not to leave it too late.

‘Not that I’m advocating having a baby straight away,’ she says. ‘But you can let it drift and then it’s a bit more difficult, and, well . . .’

‘Are you telling me I’ll be too old to have a baby?’ I say. ‘Cori’s older than me and she’s popping them out.’

‘She was only very slightly older than you when she had the twins,’ Mum reminds me. ‘And twins are in our family you know. They skipped mine and Jenni’s generation, but your grandmother was a twin, don’t forget.’

‘So now it’s twins I’m having.’ I make a face at her. ‘Oh, Mum. Let me get married first.’

‘Sorry. Sorry. I’m letting things run away with me.’

‘You are. And we do still have to wait for Charles’s divorce.’

Because no matter how comfortable I am with moving in with him before it’s made final, I’m certainly not going to have his children until he’s well and truly disentangled from his agent-slash-ex.

Chapter 42

Ariel

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two imposters just the same.

Rudyard Kipling

It’s Friday, and I have a bottle of champagne in the fridge. It’s good champagne, a Laurent-Perrier that Penny Blackwater gave me when she won the emerging writers award she was shortlisted for. I went to Belfast for the day and we had a great time at the Linen Hall, where everyone was in good spirits and Penny did an absolutely amazing reading from her book. She gave me the champagne as I was leaving, saying that if it wasn’t for me she wouldn’t be a published author at all. This is patently untrue: Penny is hugely talented and I’ve no doubt she’d have found a publishing home, but I’m glad to be part of her success story.

The champagne has been sitting in the fridge ever since, but it seems to me that today might be a good day to open it. I look up at Charles’s house. With the longer evenings, the sun is reflecting off the windows, and the red brick of the walls looks warm yet stately.

Interested in a one-off Freedom Friday Special? I have business news that needs to be shared. Obviously not if it’s an issue for you and Iseult. And it’ll be quick, I promise

I send the text and wait for a reply. I’m not sure there’ll be one. Charles and I have been communicating by email these last few weeks, and we’ve kept all of them brief and businesslike.

If it’s absolutely essential to talk to me face to face. We did say no more Freedom Fridays

In and out, no worries

I take the bottle from the fridge and walk up the garden path. I’m expecting Charles to be waiting at the door for me, but he’s not. I push it open and step into the house.

‘Anyone home?’ I call.

There’s no answer, so I begin to climb the stairs. Charles is in the living room, standing by the window.

‘Were you watching me walk up the garden?’ I ask.

‘Only after you texted. What’s the news?’