Deliberately drawing the curtains closed, Clara turned to them. ‘I might take a few minutes to myself, if that’s all right with you two, then I think I’ll go and see how Tom’s getting on with the cooking.’
Madeleine nodded. ‘Good idea. We’ll get out of your way for a bit.’
Before Rose had turned the door handle, Clara said, ‘Focus on what’s important to you, Rose. And if you know, then don’t spend too long pretending otherwise, or worrying about keeping everyone else happy. Time is too precious.’
She watched them go, waited until they’d pushed her door closed, then she settled herself on the duvet, and pressing her phone to her ear, she played Mike’s message again. It was easier to smile as she listened, this time.
We’re going to have fun, though, aren’t we?
Yes. My want ellie babies, Daddy.
Hope you’re enjoying your lie-in, Clara. Have a great day and let me know if you want me to bring back some takeaway. The traffic is awful on the ring road, we’ve been stuck in it for a while. God only knows what the problem is, it looks clear on the other side, so we shouldn’t be held up on the way back. See you soon. Love you. Bye.
‘I love you, too,’ Clara whispered. ‘Even more than I ever realised.’
Chapter 32
Gull shifted himself up against the pillow. ‘Your turn,’ he said. ‘You know everything of relevance about me, so it’s time for you to answer a few questions, don’t you think?’
Tania shuffled herself into the crook of his arm, her fingers playing across the lowest of his ribs. She’d known this moment was coming, that she couldn’t maintain the pause in reality she’d created for much longer. That short of handing him his clothes and ordering him to leave, to avoid telling him, this was the next logical step. That she should be pleased he wanted to know all about her and there was absolutely no way she could bear the idea of him leaving, that she wanted to stay this close to him for ever.
But the moment he found out who she was, things would change. There was no escaping that, either. He would change, the way he viewed her would alter. She wondered how long it would take him to work out the connection between her surname being Harrington and Anthony Harrington. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he didn’t have any interest in films, or the media, or current affairs.
Maybe he lived in a cave. Or under a rock.
There were people in the smallest communities in the centre of the Amazon rainforest who’d heard of Anthony Harrington. She knew this because her father had done one of those sycophantic documentaries in which he visited remote communities around the globe to find out more about their way of life. The production company maintained it had some tenuous link to the far-flung planets visited by Galactic Commander Robson and his crew in the films. Tania maintained it was more to do with her father boosting his own ego than being of any direct benefit to those he was visiting. Regardless of the ethics, everywhere he went he was greeted as if he were a long-lost uncle. In one place someone had asked him to sign their flip-flops.
Everywhere he’d been, the residents had held contorted fingers aloft, making the sign every rank of crew member who encountered Galactic Commander Robson made in the films. The same sign Rory Flannagan had made, as a joke, the first time they’d slept together.
She wondered how Gull’s expression would change. Because people’s expressions always did. The eyes usually morphed first, became sharper, or more focused, or on occasion unadulteratedly calculating. The expression changed from one of boy meets girl, to boy meets meal ticket. Or from boy meets girl to boy meets route to fame; boy meets possible fast-track into acting in movies; boy meets way into Hollywood royalty; boy meets girl whose father is his all-time hero.
The eyes never said boy meets girl who just happens to be related to a famous actor.
Tania sighed. She allowed her fingers to continue their trail across his warm skin, trying to work out how to ignore reality for a bit longer. Because over the years, she’d learned that whatever thoughts she held of the latest man in her life, that man would eventually, without fail, be unable to see past the Harrington label.
‘Tell me something about yourself,’ he said. ‘You decide what it is.’ His hand closed around hers, holding it still. She glanced at him, tried to crystallise in her memory the look held in his eyes at that moment in time. The warm, genuine openness in those brown eyes, the intense desire she’d seen earlier softened into something more relaxed, but still incredibly sexy. He pulled at her hand, threading his fingers between hers. ‘Shoe size?’ He grinned.
‘Six,’ she said. ‘And a half.’
‘Favourite pizza topping?’
‘Pineapple.’
‘Really?’ The disbelief in his voice was unmistakeable.
‘No. I’m joking.’ It was her turn to grin. ‘I don’t actually like pizza.’
‘You don’t like pizza?’ His features darkened. ‘That could be a deal-breaker …’
‘Seriously?’
He laughed. ‘No. No way. I was joking.’
‘Oh, OK, yes. You did say you were good at bad jokes.’
‘And I think I’ve just proved the point.’ He pulled her closer. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Notting Hill.’
