“Good strange or bad strange?” She reached up to take my hand and threaded her fingers through mine
“Strangestrange. It isn’t good or bad. There’ve been so few times when we’ve all been there together in the last few years. When we’ve been together it’s been in Oxford and that’s been really good. I love the house and it was where me and Payts were born so it’s always going to be special. But it doesn’t feel like it used to.” I knew I was making hardly any sense and blamed it on my children.
“It doesn’t feel like home anymore?”
I squeezed her hand. “No. It feels like a place we made memories, and it’s been good revisiting those memories. But we don’t really make them there anymore.”
“It’s time to go forward?”
“Yes. I like how we go to Max’s house and Claire’s and everyone else’s. It feels like we’re not reliant on our parents to make us all like each other anymore.”
“You’ve always liked each other. From what I’ve seen.” She turned over onto her front and slid further up my body.
I rested my hands on her back, feeling her warmth surround me. “We did, but when we were in our twenties we didn’t hang out like we do now. Payts was in Manchester, Ava and Jackson were in New York a lot, Callum was travelling everywhere. Mum and Dad were the ones who co-ordinated getting us together whereas now, we’ve all landed nearby so we see each other all the time. Maybe too much.” I’d wound Max up this morning, supergluing a pen to his desk, right in the middle of where he usually had his notepad.
I’d found it the funniest thing ever. He’d spent most of the day plotting how to end my days and getting grumpier and grumpier, until he’d stropped off home to grab some stuff that would remove it that I’d had all the time.
“Maybe too much. You all interfere in each other’s lives maybe more than what’s healthy, but sometimes that’s good. Everyone’s been amazing about Rose.” Her hands pushed underneath my T-shirt.
I was hopeful about where this was going.
“They’ve actually managed to be subtle with her and not make a big deal.” Which hadn’t surprised me. My siblings were annoying rather than stupid.
Georgia shook her head at me. “They’ve managed not to say anything, but she’s being spoilt rotten. Owen’s booked that author who wrote that verse novel she’s obsessed with to do a talk and signing at Cases. Claire’s taking her and Eliza for afternoon tea somewhere. Payton’s promised to take her to see Hamilton – again. There’s more. I’m just too tired to remember it.”
“So she’s milking it.” I pushed my hands under Georgia’s top, her skin smooth and soft, toying with her bra strap.
“She’s milking it. I’m not going to stop it though. I can’t believe she’s been so calm about the whole thing.” Georgia pressed a kiss to my lips, a type of kiss I recognised as she wasn’tthattired.
“She’s rational.”
“Maybe one day she’ll meet someone who she’s not going to be rational over, like I was with you.” Georgia gave me a knowing smile. “I hope she does.”
I grumbled something unintelligible, unless you were my wife and you could interpret every sound.
“You don’t mean that. You want her to have a life she loves and enjoys and sometimes that comes with a healthy dose of people, and people aren’t always straightforward.” She moved, pulling up my T-shirt, forcing me to sit up so she could yank it over my head.
I decided to do the same with her.
“True. I wouldn’t miss out on this with you.” I would choose this life with her over any other. “Even if it isn’t always easy.”
“It isn’t always easy,” she said, undoing her bra. “But some things are.”
MEMORY SIX
GRANT
I hadn’t woken up with a woman in my arms for years, my bed usually empty, unless I was at home with the children and one of them found their way there.
Marie was nuzzled into my chest, seemingly asleep, her hair tangled over my chest, her body curled around mine. This was the fourth day we’d slept over with each other, this time at her apartment after she’d found out from one of her colleagues that my dad had been joking about me getting lucky in New York. So far, no one had clocked on to us sleeping with each other. We’d managed to keep it professional when there was anyone to see, but as soon as there wasn’t it was a different matter.
There was no talking about work; instead I spoke about the kids and Rachael’s death and she told me about her siblings and parents and the million cousins back in Ireland. We talked about our futures, the firms we’d one day own and manage and what would happen to their futures and we talked about houses and where we wanted to live, how we wanted it to be.
She wanted children one day, a husband and her own family. She wanted Irish summers and mid-winter breaks on a beach somewhere in the Indian Ocean. I wanted stability, morelaughter, more of a life and if that included holidays away I was game for it. We walked around the city, saw some of the sights, although the only sight I was bothered about seeing was her.
It was an indulgence because in a few days we’d go our separate ways. I’d need to find another nanny and take some time off work to look after my brood. Marie would be moving on to her dates and nights out with her friends.
I didn’t like the idea of her going out on dates but I wasn’t allowed to feel like that.
