During the long drive back I fell asleep, and when I woke up we were on the M25.
Rain was pattering on the windscreen, being rhythmically swished away by the wipers, and light from the streetlamps was sweeping across Rob’s face. The car felt cosy and safe, and on the radio they were playing a Massive Attack song, ‘Protection’.It’s the one that Tracey Thorn sings, and I’ve always really loved it. Rob was singing quietly along, unaware I’d woken up.
In that moment, for no reason I could name – perhaps the music, perhaps just sheer tiredness – something in me, some hard shell I used formyprotection, cracked open and I felt this huge whoosh of love for him. Concentrated on his driving but half smiling as he sang, he looked as beautiful as I’d ever seen him. His massive hands were gripping the steering wheel, his fingers tapping to the beat…The sheer beauty of another human being who just, God knows why, happens to love me, I thought.I am so lucky to have you. It seemed like a whole new concept, like a thought I’d never had before. Tears rose to my eyes.
Rob put the indicator on to change lanes just then, and as he glanced in the wing mirror he saw I was awake. He smiled at me then, so softly, so gently, solovingly, and he reached out and caressed my hair. ‘Hello, sleepy head,’ he said. ‘Only about an hour, now.’ He frowned then, at something in my expression. ‘You OK?’ he said. ‘You look funny.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said, swallowing with difficulty. ‘I love this song.’ Then, ‘I was actually watching you singing along and thinking how much I love you.’
‘Gosh!’ Rob said, performing a double-take before dragging his eyes back to the road. ‘I shall sing to you more often!’
‘Nah,’ I joked. ‘You’re all right, thanks.’ But I remember thinking that he was right – I didn’t say that kind of thing enough.
These little bursts of love were unpredictable in their arrival, and never lasted that long – a week or two in general, tops, and sometimes less than ten minutes. But theydidhappen, that was the point. And the fact that they happened was important because, even once the moment had passed, my memory of it continued to providehope. Because I knew the feeling could return at any time.
* * *
One day we were driving home from Westwood Cross, where we’d just seen a disappointing Bond film.
Lucy had finished her final rehab stay about three weeks earlier, and because we didn’t know, or even dare hope, that itwouldbe her final stay, we were having to keep an eye on her by taking her everywhere we went.
‘Skyfallwas way better,’ Rob said.
‘God, you sound just like Lou,’ Lucy said. Her brother was back at uni, down in Bath, where, as ever, he was acing it. ‘But it’s only because we sawSkyfallat the IMAX.’
‘I just think it’s a better film,’ Rob said. ‘I’m allowed to have that opinion, aren’t I? Even if it is an opinion I share with your brother.’
That’s when Rob’s phone began to ring. It was connected to the car’s Bluetooth system, and a phone number appeared on the dashboard.
‘Sorry,’ Rob said. ‘I don’t know who this is, so I’m going to have to take it.’
‘Rob?’ a voice boomed out of the car speakers. ‘Rob, is that you?’
A man’s voice. Elderly. Maybe Welsh. The first time I’d ever heard it.
‘Shit,’ Rob muttered, pressing a button on the steering wheel to end the call.
‘Who wasthat?’ Lucy asked.
‘No one,’ Rob said. ‘So what were we saying aboutSkyfall?’
‘No one,’ Lucy repeated, cheekily. ‘If that was a call from your secret lover, Dad, I’m a tad concerned.’
‘It’s just some bloke,’ Rob said. ‘Work stuff. Someone I don’t want to—’ His phone started to ring again. ‘… to talk to,’ he said, finishing his phrase as he took his phone from his pocket and handed it to me. ‘Can you switch that to airplane mode or something?’
‘Wow, you reallydon’twant to talk to him,’ I said as I did so. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Yep!’ Rob said sharply. ‘Everything’s great. Now can we just forget about it?’
Once we were home and Lucy was safely in her room, I challenged him. ‘Was that your dad, Rob?’
I didn’t know much about Rob’s parents – the subject, I’d always known, was taboo. But the two things I did know were that they were elderly and Welsh.
‘No!’ Rob said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head theatrically. ‘Why would it be my father?’
‘OK, sowhyis your dad calling you?’ I asked, ignoring his patent lie. Rob had always been a terrible liar, something I saw as a positive, endearing trait of character. ‘Has something happened?’
Rob shrugged. He knew the game was up.
