‘Fair, fair,’ he said between laughs. ‘It was a bloody good trip, though.’
‘Agreed.’
Our marriage had more downs than ups, but we’d had some fun times. And sitting across from Julian, looking so much like the man I’d fallen for, I reminded myself that people are never just one thing. We’re layered, multi-faceted, we evolve…
Julian wasn’t a bad person. He just wasn’t a good husband.
‘Oof,’ I said when the dessert plates were cleared. I patted my (completely stuffed) tum right as Julian lifted up the wine bottle.
‘You have the rest,’ I said. He tipped the dregs into his glass, then downed them in one.
That was my cue to leave, and I stood, collecting my clutch from the table. ‘Thank you for an incredible meal, Jules – and the lovely company.’
He remained seated, sending me a wry look. ‘No nightcap then?’ he asked, once our code for after-dinner sex.
‘No nightcap.’
‘In that case, I promise I won’t ask again,’ he said, a flash of sadness in his eyes.
I released an involuntary sigh. I hadn’t realised how much Julian’s advances were weighing on me. I’d been aware, of course – battle-ready to fend him off – but there was a toll, having to be that guarded.
I considered kissing his cheek but decided against it, instead giving him a smile, then beelining for my villa. It was still reasonably early and despite the full day and generous meal, I was wide awake – must have been the rush of endorphins from laughing with Julian.
I glanced at the short stack of books I’d brought. I’d had that exact same stack on my bedside table for months now, carting it with me whenever I travelled. Yet none of the titles felt right for the mood I was in.
So instead of reading, I ran a bath. While I waited for it to fill, I called Claude.
‘Hiya,’ she chirruped, signposting she was in a good mood.
‘Hiya.’
‘How’s paradise today?’ she asked.
‘It’s stunning. And I’ve seen the whole island now – well, the coastline. Still some exploring inland to do.’
I filled her in on the day’s events. Well, except that Tommy was on the islandandthat we’d spent the day togetherandhad several terse exchanges. If Claude knew Tommy was there, she’d kick into concerned-big-sister mode and insist that I come home immediately.
I also omitted Julian’s romantic overtures – she’d only worry about that too. Besides, I’d dealt with the matter.
So what I gave her was a glorified travel log with detailed descriptions of the food – like an episode ofSomebody Feed Philbut with me.Somebody Feed Ally.
‘It does sound lovely, Al. Maybe I should consider going –someday, I mean.’
‘Ah-hah – progress!’ I teased, and she laughed softly.
Sometimes it was hard to recall the girl she was before Gregory – orBGas we liked to call it. But in our late teens and early twenties, Claude was a bit of a wild child – sneaking us into clubs with fake IDs, late-night skinny-dipping in our neighbour’s pool, even dancing on the bar once until a bouncer hauled her outside over his shoulder.
That Claude felt like a lifetime ago.
And how ironic that I’d helped thousands of people rediscover their spark, yet my own sister – the person closest to me – was still struggling to find hers. All I could do was love her fiercely for who she was, while giving her the odd gentle prod to try something new.
‘So, what’s on for tomorrow then?’ she asked, cutting across my thoughts.
‘Naxos – the nearest island.’
I heard the rustle of paper – she must have printed the itinerary.
‘Ooh, a cooking class. Now try not to set the kitchen alight.’
