She smiles, pushes back her tangled hair and hugs me. ‘Oh, Dad. I know it’s not always been easy …’
‘It’s been fine, love.’
She looks up at me. ‘You do realise I was never going to have a baby with Miles, don’t you?’
I grimace. ‘I was a bit worried there for a while.’
‘Worried?’ She chuckles. ‘More like freaked out!’
I laugh, and as I drop Bob’s food into his bowl I learn that her friend Jess, who’s away studying at St Andrews, has been in touch. Concerned, apparently, about chickengate. A bit late in the day, I reflect, but decide not to comment as Esther is clearly thrilled to hear from her.
‘… So we had a really good talk,’ she tells me, ‘the whole time I was out with Bob. And I told her about my situation here and that I was looking, and she knows someone who’s subletting a room in Hackney and theysent me pictures and it looks amazing and I said yes!’ She beams triumphantly.
‘You don’t think you should see it in person?’ I suggest.
‘No, it’sfine, Dad.’ A flicker of an eye-roll. How foolish of me not to think it’s a brilliant idea to move in without at least popping round for a cursory viewing. However, I’m happy for her; of course I am.
‘I’ll have flatmates,’ she adds, beaming now.
‘That’ll be so great for you.’ As I start to make dinner, another thought occurs to me. ‘I think I might need to make another arrangement for Bob, then. If you’re not going to be here, I mean. I can’t leave him here all day on his own.’
Esther nods, twisting handfuls of hair and securing it all, by means of some kind of clip, into a messy bun. ‘I’ve thought about that.’
‘Have you?’ I turn and look at her. ‘What were you thinking?’
She gives me a bemused look, shrugging as if it’s no concern of mine. ‘Just a few thoughts, Dad. But don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
LAUREN
I wish I could tell James how well it went, that meeting with Juliette Lloyd. How unintimidating and enthusiastic she was, telling me about her own childhood holiday in Corsica. She’d only been once but it had imprinted itself in her mind; the mountains, the pools, the scent of wild herbs and the sparkling sea. ‘Looking at your proposal,’ she said, ‘was almost like being transported back there again.’
‘I’m so glad,’ I said. ‘That’s exactly what I wanted to get across. A feeling of actually being there, being able to smell and taste it …’
She smoothed back her neat brown bob and smiled. ‘I’d like to represent you, if you feel our agency is a good fit for you.’
A good fit? Was she kidding? I wanted to jump for joy but instead I managed to sit there appearing professional while she detailed how things would go from here. She’d send out my proposal to a few editors she knows who would ‘get’ it. ‘D’you think there’s a good chance of it being published?’ I asked.
‘I can never promise,’ she said, ‘but let’s put things in motion and we’ll see. There’s so much potential,’ she adds, ‘in marketing this. You could do cookery demonstrations and put together a video on your next trip to Corsica – taking your readers on a virtual tour of the food markets there.’My readers.I could barely contain myself. ‘Would you be up for that?’ Juliette asked.
‘Oh yes,’ I enthused.
She thanked me warmly for ‘coming all this way’ and I left on a cloud of happiness. All this way? It’s nothing to me, I reflect now as I stroll across the nearby park, buzzing too much to head straight for the station and home. I need to walk it off and calm down a little. It’s a beautiful winter’s afternoon, sunny and bright, and I so want to share it with someone. So I find a bench and message Kim, who’s thrilled for me, and Charlie, who calls immediately. Which is virtually unheard of for him.
‘That’s amazing, Mum. Well done!’
‘Thanks, darling.’
‘You’re going to be an actual author. With an actual book!’
‘Well, we’ll see, love. It’s a step in the right direction …’
‘I’m so proud of you,’ he says, with a catch in his voice. He’s proud ofme, his irritating mother who tries to slap sunscreen on him?
I get up and start to stroll back across the gently undulating park, thinking: maybe this really could be the start of something wonderful. Charlie will be leaving home in a few months’ time, but that’s fine. It’s not the end. It’s the beginning of something new, for both of us.
In the far distance I spot someone who looks familiar. His height, his build, even the colour of his jacket; it looks like James, I think. Even his walk is James’s walk, and I’m remembering all the times we strolled across a park,or by the river at the edge of my village, his hand wrapped around mine. My heart is beating faster as I stop and watch him. I almost want to run over to check for sure.
