‘I’m sorry I overreacted when I came in.’
‘I honestly don’t know what we were doing wrong. It was just a bit of yoga. I was trying to wind her down.’
‘I know.’ A quick glance behind me, to make sure Bea’sstill in the bathroom. ‘Look. I’ve had a shitty afternoon. I had to take Angela to A&E.’
‘What? Is she okay?’
‘Yes, thank God. But she’s six months pregnant, and she started bleeding. Heavily. She was fucking terrified, and her partner was stuck in Birmingham. I couldn’t let her go alone. They’re keeping her in overnight, and he turned up eventually, but the baby’s fine.’
‘That was your emergency? Why didn’t you say something?’
‘I was in a cab with her when I called you, and I didn’t want to betray her confidence.’
‘I was really cross.’ She rubs between her eyes. ‘I thought you were blowing Bea off for some stupid work emergency.’
‘I could tell. You made it pretty obvious. But Saoirse. I appreciate how fiercely protective you are of my daughter, but do not second-guess me again. I am your employer. For God’s sake, don’t presume to tell me how to behave with my own daughter.’
To her credit, she meets my eyes. ‘You’re totally right. I’m sorry. I was just gutted on her behalf. But it’s none of my business. It won’t happen again.’
‘While we’re on apologies, I owe you one for behaving like a wanker just now.’ I fiddle with the loose change in my pocket. ‘Bea’s mother was—is—a yoga queen. It’s one of the reasons she’s gone off to LA. She left me for some guy who is apparently far more enlightened and charismatic than me—her words. She’s going to help him run his holistic wellness centre. She fancies it as the next big wellness empire, I think.’
She’s staring at me. ‘They both sound horrific. They sound like they deserve each other.’
My first laugh of the day comes out as a snort. ‘That’s nice of you to say. I suspect you’re right.’
‘She told you he was morecharismaticthan you?’
‘I mean, I know it’s hard to imagine, but…’
She giggles. ‘Charismaticjust sounds like sleazy to me. Or fake. I can’t imagine you get accused of being fake very often.’
‘Nope. Or charismatic, funnily enough. It’s just—seeing you there on the mats with Bea in your yoga gear—it pissed me off. It reminded me of her. She used to do lots of yoga with Bea, before she fucked off, and I was worried it would trigger her. So I lashed out at you, and it was unfair. I’m sorry.’
‘No lasting damage done. Would you like me to get you a drink?’
I think. ‘I would. Only if you’ll join me. I think we have a show to watch.’
She strolls into the kitchen to fetch the wine. Her yoga pants and vest top showcase her beautiful figure: long, long legs and the perfect swell of her arse beneath a narrow waist. The way those cheeks move when she walks.
A messy bun contains her dark curls and exposes the elegant curves of her neck and shoulders. I’m fucking exhausted, and I’d give anything right now to walk into the kitchen behind her, slide a hand around the dip of that waist, and lay my weary head on her shoulder.
I stand there and watch as she moves around the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of white wine from the fridge, uncorking it, pouring it into some glasses. I watch every single thing until she turns and walks back towards me. Holding out a glass. Smiling at me, any unease already forgotten.
‘Here you go, Grooge. Get this down you.’
I swill, eyes still on her. I’m too tired to make the effort to keep my walls up. Something’s shifted after the minor altercation we just had. It’s as if a little snapping feels far healthier than the polite dance we’ve been doing around each other the past couple of weeks.
‘What did you go for?’ I ask, brandishing my glass.
‘It says Meursault on the label, but I’m hoping it’s somepersonality in a bottle. For you, that is. I don’t need any help in that department.’
I taste. It’s excellent. Wine this good deserves food.
‘Have you eaten?’
‘No. I’ll grab something on the way home.’
‘Stay and eat with us?’
