Alistair scolds me kindly as I try to get in the back, directing me instead to the front passenger seat. As I protest about his need for leg room, he winks. ‘Believe me, I’m getting the better deal. You have to cope with a very enthusiastic travelling companion up front.’
I wonder if he means Nick as I climb in and almost land a heavy bum cheek on… Jackie Weaver the dog.
‘Whoops, sorry!’ Nick laughs, climbing in the other side. ‘Forgot to warn you. She loves a car journey and I didn’t want to leave her on her own for the day. My parents haven’t met her yet either, so they insisted I bring her.’
I grin. Two hours with a cute, fluffy dog? This is turning out to be the best road trip ever. ‘A big moment, introducing your new lady to the folks,’ I comment dryly, stroking her soft head. Jackie regards me intently, but seems content as I shift her into position on my lap. Nick chuckles as he fiddles with the stereo, jabbing at the controls until he finds some seventies bangers.
‘I really hope they approve.’ He checks the mirrors. ‘I’m so nervous, I’ve never introduced them to a woman before.’
‘You should be,’ I tell him sternly, stroking Jackie Weaver’s long grey body. She looks up at me again, so much wisdom in those big, black eyes. ‘If they don’t like her, you might have to choose between love and family. I’mconstantlycutting my family off because they don’t like the cute animal pictures I send in our WhatsApp group.’
Nick snorts as he starts the engine. The car growls disturbingly and he makes an apologetic noise. ‘Sorry, Esther, this car is older than the internet.’
‘It’s OK, girl,’ I whisper to Jackie as the wind howls outside. It occurs to me that I should be nervous; sitting in this ancient car with the apocalypse outside and an unknown entity driver heading for the motorway. But I feel oddly safe.
‘We really appreciate this, man!’ Behind Nick in the back seat, Alistair gives him a friendly mini shoulder punch as he plugs in his seatbelt.
‘We really do,’ I add and Nick turns to smile at me warmly. For a moment I think he will say something else, but instead he begins singing along to Abba, very loudly and incredibly tunelessly. It’s funny seeing this serious-looking man singing with such a lack of self-consciousness.
I wave at Bibi and Louise out of the window as we begin the slow trundle away, music blaring. I’m still wondering what I’ve got myself into as we turn the corner but – as Jackie nuzzles her little head into me and Abba croons about being seventeen – I suddenly feel… hopeful?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
We’re meeting outside Paul’s hotel and for a moment, as I pull at my jacket awkwardly, I feel like I’m on a Tinder date. What if I don’t recognize him? It’s been five years since we last saw each other. What if some stranger says hi and I can’t tell if it’s Paul? What do I do then?
I turn this way and that, my head swivelling for a glimpse of my old friend.
‘Guess who?’ His voice from behind is smooth and oh-so-familiar as I turn to face him. ‘I was going to do the classic thing from films, where I cover your eyes with my hands? But I thought you might elbow me in the groin.’ He pauses. ‘Which would be fair enough.’
‘I don’t know how more movie stars don’t get kicked in the penis,’ I grin. ‘Taking such a risk like that.’
‘They would deserve it,’ he nods solemnly.
For a moment we look at each other. It’s really Paul. It really is him. And Jesus effing Christ, he’s still sofit. In fact, he seems hotter than ever. Is that possible? I thinkthe history and nostalgia and years of longing have made him even better-looking. That, and the gym. The man lookshench.
‘You look absolutely gorgeous, Esther.’ He grins happily, and I suck in my gut instinctively. ‘Really, I mean it. You haven’t aged at all, you little fuck.’
I laugh, my insides flipping like mad. ‘I have, you total liar. And you can talk – you look great.’
He shakes his head sadly. ‘I’m old now, it’s devastating to admit. I’ll be thirty-four in December, it’s pitiful. I blame the kitchens. You got out when you should. Any longer and you’d be as broken and decrepit as me. Thank god we saved you and your lovely face.’
All the compliments are getting to me. ‘Shall we head to a pub?’ I suggest, the nerves jangling in my voice.
‘Let’s do something more exciting first!’ Paul replies, sounding more at ease than I’d like. ‘If we walk for a bit, we might come across something that excites us. I know we’re not in London, but there must be fun stuff on offer in Milton Keynes, surely!’
‘OK, sounds like a plan!’ I reply, deeply resentful that I won’t be able to calm my nerves with booze just yet.
We begin to walk in companionable silence, my arm linked through his. It feels like no time has passed as we walk, huddled together side by side. But that thought makes me feel suddenly a little nauseous. I stare down at the arms of his coat, dying to look up at him. I want to see him properly, to drink it all in. To look for the grey hairs or extrawrinkles. I want the missing years to be documented somehow. Otherwise where did they go?
This feels so different to Alistair. Alistair, who treats me almost like a sister. Who is attentive and fun and sweet, while Paul is intense and open and adoring.
I spent a lot of the car journey here staring in the side mirror at Alistair in the back, trying to figure out what I felt; what all of this meant. And whether I had any right to be spending all this time with him, when I fancy him so much and he has a partner waiting at home. I don’t know what to make of it.
‘So what made you look me up after all this time?’ Paul’s tone is light, a little playful. ‘Iknowthat was you outside my restaurant.’
I bite my lip and decide not to deny it. ‘I’m, well’ – how much do I say? – ‘I’m kind of in the midst of doing a… er,reviewof my life.’ I pause to gauge a reaction. I get none, he’s just listening intently. ‘And I remembered how much fun we used to have together,Saul.’ He laughs at this. ‘Either way, I wanted to catch up and see how you are. We used to be so close, I fucking miss you.’
‘I miss you, too.’ He puts an arm around my shoulder like it’s the easiest thing in the world. ‘And I want to know everything. How are things going with – sorry – what was the boyfriend’s name? Idris?’
