‘Wish I could be there too,’ James says.
‘Me too.’
He clears his throat. ‘I was going to bring you your Christmas present tonight.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say quickly. ‘I mean, we’ll have plenty of time at New Year—’
‘Let’s hope so,’ he says, which triggers a rush of anxiety in me. The Cornish cottage is booked and there’s no cancelling it now.
‘Youarefree those days, aren’t you?’ I ask. ‘The ones we talked about, I mean?’Or has Rhona organised things for then too?
‘Yes, of course I am,’ James says firmly.
‘It’s just, our plans seem a bit doomed at the moment, don’t they?’
‘Well, there’s been a lot going on …’
‘Let’s hope nothing gets in the way of New Year,’ I add, before I can stop myself. ‘I mean, it can’t, James. Nothing can get in the way.’
‘What d’you mean?’ he asks.
‘I mean,’ I say, knowing now that I can’t keep my plans under wraps any longer, ‘we’re going away together. Me and you. And if there was some kind of drama … I mean, some sort of situation where your presence was needed … well, they wouldn’t be able to get at you.’ That didn’t come out quite right; my implication that his ex-wife and daughter are forever trying to ‘get at’ him.
‘I don’t understand,’ he says. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘James, I’ve booked us a trip. And now I’m thinking, was it a mad idea? Because if it is, and you hate the thought of it, and it was stupid of me to do this without checking with you, well, I’ll just – I don’t know – write it off, I suppose …’
‘Lauren, please. You won’t be writing anything off. But what is it?’
‘It’s, um, a cottage in Cornwall that’s completely off-grid,’ I explain. ‘I mean, there’s no phone signal or Wi-Fi or even mains power …’ I tail off. ‘Of course, you know what off-grid means.’
He’s chuckling now. ‘Erm, yes. I do.’
‘I think you’d call that womansplaining,’ I add, smiling.
‘Who knew it existed?’ he asks, teasing me.
‘Oh, it probably was a bit impetuous of me to book it without telling you. But it’s my present to you,’ I add. ‘I just thought we really need time on our own …’
‘Where no one can get at us?’ I detect the smile in his voice, and my heart seems to turn over.
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I do. Of course I do.’
The pause that follows feels anything but awkward. ‘So, I wasn’t mad to book it?’ I ask tentatively.
‘Not at all,’ James says. ‘I love the idea of being cut off from everything with you …’ He seems to hesitate, and now my heart plummets in anticipation of the ‘but’. Every time the pub’s front door opens, a ripple of chatter and laughter drifts out. I should get back in there and let James go to his dinner. ‘Will Charlie be okay?’ he asks.
I open my mouth to speak. So that’s what’s worrying him? Whether Charlie can cope on his own? ‘James, he’s nearly eighteen,’ I remind him. ‘After being cooped up over Christmas and forced to play board games with us all, he’ll be delighted to get rid of me.’
‘Great. So … how will we get there?’
‘I’ll drive.’
‘And when do we go?’ His voice is tinged with excitement now.
‘The 30th. We’ll be there for four nights. Are you sure you’re okay with this, being cut off from the world?’
