30.
Cocoa served here
Have I ever been on a road trip with Bill before? Only about a hundred times. Always in my head, and strangely … never in my Corsa. They were always in an unnamed super-comfy car, obviously one a lot less ‘eff off’ and blingy than Ambie’s, and I don’t think I even specified a leather interior. But they always had the kind of inordinately huge back seats where the making out could easily slide into so much more.
And it’s funny how the minute Bill gets into my Corsa I’m seeing marks on the seat covers I never even noticed in the previous six years. And then there’s the passenger side knock. Obviously Merwyn – bless his little Tibetan paws – his bed, blankets, food, and enough clothes to keep him going for the next thirty-six hours are taking up the entire back seat anyway, not that I begrudge him the space. That’s the other embarrassment – the car is way too old have Bluetooth, so I’m stuck with the CD player. When I loaded up the stacker before I set off it was with all five CDs from one of those really cheap 100 Hits sets that I bought for a fiver in the supermarket. I was thinking of singing along when my Christmas tunes CD and Pirate Radio got too much. I certainly wasn’t thinking of showing my best self to anyone at all other than Merwyn. And definitely not Will-Bill.
We get as far as the second bend and I decide to come clean. ‘You’ll notice that knock on the front passenger side?’
Bill grins. ‘Nothing to worry about, it’s probably only a grumbling wheel bearing, we’ll soon have that sorted once we get back.’ Truly, we won’t, by the time the parts departments open up again I’ll be long gone.
When Celine Dion’sMy Heart Will Go Oncomes on, Bill shoots me a look and I manage to hold in my singing, even though it’s almost bursting out.
Instead I give a sniff. ‘I’m hoping the classy dashboard fairy lights will make up for the terrible choice of music.’ Then as Celine finishes and Bonnie Tyler starts to croak I say, ‘Yay,Total Eclipse of the Heart!’
Bill looks across at me. ‘On balance, would that have been better or worse as Ambie’s proposal song?’
I look back at him. ‘Oh my, how long have you got?’
And, call us shallow, but that’s what we pass the next three hundred miles discussing. Every time a new song comes on, there are so many things to say, the next song’s starting before we’ve finished. And it’s sweetened by many packets of gummy bears and Haribo Christmas mix, all washed down with bottles of Pepsi Max. The time flies by so fast, we’re half way, at Yeovil and stopping for petrol and we’re barely half way through the CD stack. Bill swaps into the driving seat, Merwyn and I have a dash around the car park for a comfort halt, then we set off again.
It’s one of those journeys where everyone is in their own bubble of happiness for completely different reasons. Bill’s all smiley because he’s going to see Abby, Merwyn always pretends he’s disapproving, but once you get to know him well enough to see past the side eye, he’s a sunny character who’s just happy to be with you whatever adventure you’re on. And we all know about me. From where I’m sitting, the A30 and the A303 never looked better. As we skim past Dorset fields, the daylight’s fading to dusk, by the time we’re zooming along the M3 towards London all we’re seeing is the white flash of headlights in the dark although those dimples of Bill’s are so deep I can still see them in the shadows across the car.
And we’ve got a plan. There was no point paying for two rooms at a Premier Inn when we could stay at mine for free. Did anyone mention all my dreams, in the world, ever, coming true? It’s good that I’m grounded by the whole friends label, because if it wasn’t there, I’d have probably exploded already.
As James Blunt starts singingYou’re Beautiful, I let out a groan. A lot of these songs are my oldest faves, but the minute I imagine Ambie wiggling his hips to them, they change entirely. ‘Oh my, if Ambie had sung this we’d have had to pass round the sicky buckets before he started. Can you imagine?’
Bill rubs the stubble on his chin and taps the steering wheel. ‘Listening to the lyrics there, for a moment they sounded really fitting – you’re not getting that?’
I’m staring at the slices down his cheeks in the darkness, then I get it. He does this to me every time and I never realise. ‘You’re joking me, aren’t you?’
My steering wheel … it’s hard to believe we made such a big leap he’s actually got his hands on it. And after all these hours driving, the car’s going to smell of him so much, I won’t be able to sell it. Probably not ever. Which might be really inconvenient eventually if this one breaks and I have to get another car because that’ll mean I’ll need a second parking space. And they’re like gold dust where I live. I suppose I could always leave the car outside my parents’ house, but my dad isn’t that keen on me parking there when I’m visiting, and realistically how often would I get to smell it if it was in Yorkshire?
As Bill glances across at me, one eyebrow lifts. ‘Why would I be joking?’
What a question. ‘Of course you bloody are, you do it all the time.’
He’s biting his lip. ‘In that case it’s a good thing the coach house is full of spare buckets then isn’t it?’ He laughs. ‘So many romantic songs, it reminds me of that day I couldn’t prise you away from the wedding shop window.’
I throw a gummy bear at him for that.
By the time we’re pulling up in the car park outside my flat it’s so long since our lunch back at the castle that my stomach’s growling. But being hungry is great, because the desperate need to sort out food stops any awkwardness. Merwyn’s rushing up the stairs, barking to let us know how delighted he is to be back, but for me it’s like the marks on the car seat. Once I see the stairwell through Bill’s eyes I’m dying, and it’s the same in the flat but worse. As soon as I get over the worry of switching the heating on, and flicking the fairy lights on everywhere, after the big spaces at the castle it looks so much more minute than when I left it.
‘Come in, this is mytotally teensyliving room.’ As I do half a step and arrive in the middle of it I’m kicking myself for not doing better with the Christmas tree. To be honest, I reckon his wardrobe is bigger than my living room. ‘The good part is when I paint the walls I can do the whole room without moving my feet.’ I’m praying to my fairy godmother that he isn’t noticing the scratches on the waxed floorboards, or how scratty and bashed up they are compared to his. Or how un-smart the stripy rug is and how unmatched the cushions are. For someone who should be super-stylish at home, I’m failing at every judgement. I’m also desperate for him to ignore the line of black and white photos of Fliss and me drinking one of every kind of cocktail in the world ever when we were at uni. And specially not to look at the little one of me the day I was Fliss’s bridesmaid. Even though the dress she made me wear was my favourite ever, I’d just rather he didn’t have an excuse to get back onto weddings.
‘I like the dark blue.’ Bill’s nodding as he takes it all in. ‘And the way the stars scatter up the wall and across the ceiling.’
I blow with relief. Of everything he could have landed on, my Farrow and Ball Hague blue estate emulsion walls and ceiling are the best. ‘I was going to get sticky stars and take them off again. Then I thought, bugger it, why can’t it be Christmas all year round, so I painted them on instead. That was three years ago, and I’m still in love with them now.’
He smiles. ‘I love how unfailingly festive and optimistic you are. And how the stars are tiny like the ones in the sky.’
I block out how much his teeth are killing me. ‘But mostly you’re laughing at the way I say bugger not bogger, like everyone else from London does.’
‘I admit, it’s an attractive trait.’ His grin stretches and his eyes dance as he moves back to safer ground. ‘Silver and rose gold for the stars too, they’re like the Cockle Shell gin labels.’
‘Are you ready to go and pick up that pizza we talked about? And let Merwyn have a walk on the way.’ Poor Merwyn, he’s going to miss tearing along the beach trying to catch the sea as it comes in, a park with grass is going to seem so dull after that.
Bill’s still smiling. ‘I thought you’d never ask about pizza. I was beginning to think you were going to wait until I fainted, then tie me up and take me prisoner and keep me here forever.’
