Page 55 of The Honeymoon Affair

‘Great.’ I go on to tell her about the drugs haul, and she’s suitably impressed. She and Dad weren’t initially supportive of my move into Customs. Dad was a teacher and Mum a tour guide – what she doesn’t know about Dublin’s historical sites isn’t worth knowing – and I have a sneaking feeling they wanted me to have a somewhat more intellectual career when I joined the Civil Service. A diplomat maybe. Or something in the arts. Mind you, they probably wanted the same for Adrian, and he’s ended up as a farmer on the other side of the world, so if they did have other ambitions for us, we’ve disappointed them.

‘How’s everyone there?’ I ask when I’ve milked my drug seizure success as much as I can. Mum tells me that Azaria is thriving and the boys are holy terrors. The love and adoration in her voice is evident. Then Dad takes over the call. New Zealand life suits him. He looks younger than before he left, and healthy in a rugged, outdoorsy sort of way. He’s been googling the drugs seizure online and tells me that he’s proud of me, which unaccountably makes me well up.

‘You OK, sweetie?’ he asks when I sniff.

‘Of course. It’s been a long day.’

‘Your mum and I are driving into town and meeting some new friends later,’ he says.

‘I’m glad you’re making friends.’

‘Tarquin and Jonelle,’ he tells me. ‘They run a sailing school. Or at least they did. Their son runs it now.’

‘Are you coming home soon?’ I ask.

‘Are you missing us madly or planning to do something with the house while we’re not there?’ He replies with a question of his own.

‘Missing you, of course,’ I say. ‘And I don’t have any plans. I just wondered. I know you’re trying to manage your stays in New Zealand so you can go again next year.’

‘Your mum thinks our services are required here for another couple of weeks at least. But we have a plan for afterwards if you don’t mind.’

‘What plan.’

‘A cruise.’

‘How lovely. Where?’

‘Around Asia.’ Mum’s face appears on the screen again. ‘But if you want us home first, we can do the cruise next time we come here.’

‘Of course not. There’s no need to rush back for me, honestly. I think it’s great you’re living your best lives now.’

‘I’m glad we brought you up to be independent,’ says Dad.

‘Me too.’

We exchange a few more pleasantries, then he passes the phone back to Mum and I talk to her for a little longer before we all say our goodbyes.

It’s only later that I realise I never said a word about Charles Miller.

He still hasn’t answered my text by the time I go to bed.

#AllByMyself

He does, however, call me the next day, although as I’m at a meeting about the drugs interception, I don’t answer him until later. When I do, he’s absolutely intrigued by it and peppers me with questions. I tell him I’ll give him the full run-down next time we meet, and suggest it might be a great scenario for his next murder mystery. He asks if I’m free to go for a coffee, and I’m wondering if he’s thinking of research and whether it’s me or the drugs haul that’s more important to him. When I say this, he says that not everything is research and he wants to meet me because he enjoys my company. I feel a warm glow at that. We arrange to meet later at Kavanagh’s, an old-style pub at the end of the Malahide Road that’s within easy walking distance for me.

When I get home, I change into jeans and the Christmas jumper that Adrian sent from New Zealand and that arrived far too early. It’s bright green with a red-nosed kangaroo pulling Santa’s sleigh.

‘Very festive,’ says Charles when he arrives at the pub a few minutes after me. He’s wearing another of his fine-knit polo necks teamed with dark trousers, and doesn’t entirely fit in with the local seasonal fashion vibe that echoes my jumper.

‘I thought I should get into the Christmas spirit,’ I say.

‘Being totally honest, I’m a bit of a Grinch when it comes to Christmas,’ he admits. ‘I had my heart broken on Christmas Day.’

‘Like in Winter’s Heartbreak?’

‘Not exactly.’ He smiles. ‘I was six, and the girl next door wouldn’t let me kiss her better when she fell off her new Barbie scooter. She told me she didn’t need kisses from boys, she could get better all by herself. I was devastated.’

I laugh. ‘I thought it might have been your agent-slash-ex.’