Page 68 of The Honeymoon Affair

‘Workmate?’ he asks.

‘No.’ I shake my head even though he can’t see me. ‘Look, Steve, why are you texting me and calling me? We’re not a couple any more and it’s really disconcerting.’

‘We’re friends, though,’ he says. ‘I told you. We’ll always be friends. So I’m texting you in a friendly way.’

‘Well stop.’ My determination comes from the large gulp of champagne I’ve taken. ‘I’ve moved on.’

‘You have a new boyfriend?’ He sounds shocked.

‘I have new friends.’

‘In Terenure? I find that hard to believe.’

‘Why?’

‘I’ve never met anyone as . . . as . . . conservative as you, Izzy. Everything in your life is always the same. You hate new things. You don’t do anything that takes you out of your comfort zone. You—’

‘When you’re finished insulting me, let me know,’ I say.

‘It’s not an insult, it’s an observation.’

‘And is my conservatism, as you put it, the reason you dumped me?’

‘Partly,’ he admits.

I end the call without saying anything else. My phone rings again and I silence it. I sit on the sofa (the kitchen has a relaxing space with a sofa!), and as I sip my champagne, I think that Steve is very wrong about me. Yes, there are ways in which I like things to stay the same. But I went to the Caribbean without him, and I slept with a man who’s the complete opposite of him. A man who invited me to a posh party in his huge house. I’m hardly in my comfort zone now, am I? So what does Steve Carter know about anything.

The kitchen door opens and Charles walks in,

‘There you are,’ he says. ‘I was looking for you.’ His eyes narrow as he sits down beside me. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes.’ I put Steve to the back of my mind and smile. ‘Just sending a few New Year messages. Thanks for the invite to your party. It’s nice to have something good to do on New Year’s Eve.’

‘You thanked me earlier. And you don’t need to. I wouldn’t have enjoyed it without you.’

‘Oh. Well, I’m enjoying myself too.’

‘And yet you’re down here alone.’

‘Like I said, checking messages.’

‘People who are having fun don’t need to check messages.’

‘I do.’ I smile.

He puts his arm around me and draws me close. His kiss tastes of champagne and smoke. I say so.

‘I had a cigar earlier,’ he confesses. ‘I smoke two at this time of the year. One on New Year’s Eve. The other on New Year’s Day. Oh, and I have one whenever a book comes out. It’s my only vice.’

‘Oh, I dunno.’ I find his lips again. ‘I’m sure you have others.’

It’s quite a while later before we go upstairs again, and Charles is immediately accosted by a man who tells him there’s only fifteen minutes till midnight and we should all be outside for the fireworks. Charles nods and asks if the man has spoken to Ariel. Why would she have anything to do with the fireworks? I wonder. It’s Charles’s party, after all, and she’s only his agent. Slash ex.

‘I’d better get involved,’ Charles says to me. ‘See you shortly.’

He leaves me standing in the hallway and joins the revellers, where he shouts at everyone to gather up and get outside. There’s a general movement, and a stylish woman wearing what even I can see is a very expensive dress in midnight blue catches Charles by the arm and demands to know where he’s been. She has a beautiful solitaire diamond on the third finger of her right hand, a multicoloured ring on her left, a diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist and a silver chain with a blue stone that matches the blue of her dress around her neck. It takes me a moment to recognise her because she’s older than the photographs I’ve seen and, quite honestly, more glamorous.

It’s Ariel.