‘In that case, putFeliz Navidadon repeat, and by the time we get there you’ll be all good.’ I grin across at him. ‘I don’t offer this to many people, but would it help to sing along?’
He manages to laugh. ‘You always know how to make me feel better, do you know how much I appreciate that?’
When you’re singing along, there’s no point doing it by halves. It has to be top of your voice or nothing. So we yell our way across town, and by the time we reach the part where the houses are seriously nice I’m practically fluent in festive Spanish. We’re winding our way between elegant Georgian terraces, and then we’re turning into a street where the houses all have front gardens and Christmas trees flanking the entrances, and wreaths the size of car tyres on their front doors. And over the sound of the music the phone app tells me I’ve reached my destination.
‘Anywhere along here would be good, thanks.’ Bill lifts his eyebrows. ‘It’s okay, Ivy-star, you can say what you’re thinking.’
I’m glad he said that, because I can’t keep this one in. ‘This is a seriously fabulous road.’ I should have known, the guy has a castle on the beach for chrissakes. Even if it’s a bit beaten up and he shares it with his dad, it should have been a clue. ‘I understand why you and Gemma might be fighting now. Seriously loaded people always do.’
‘It’s not quite how it looks, I bought it as a wreck years ago when houses were cheaper and did it up on a shoestring. I made a lot in the city, but it came at a price, I was glad to get out.’
I can imagine. That would be the kind of diamond-studded shoestring the rest of us ordinary mortals can only dream of. If anything it’s good to have a reminder. That’s the second metaphorical ton of bricks to come cascading down on my head in half an hour. This man might be gifted in bed. But it’s not just about him being so much prettier than me, he also belongs to another world. A world where people wrangle over beautiful four storey town houses, with pale pastel stucco walls and basements and authentic small paned sash windows and really wide pavements and front gardens big enough to park their cars in.
My whole rented flat would fit into their boot porch with room to spare. This is the lifestyle George aspired to, which is how I collided with Will in the first place. But George was a pretender, he actually had nothing and was happy to live off me until something better came along. But Bill is the real deal. And that’s galaxies away from me. Gemma’s mum’s called Arabella for chrissakes, mine’s called Pauline. Standing on a beach, snuggling under the duvet, it’s easy to forget the differences. But when you see them laid out here, they’re huge. But at least I’ve had my night. No one can take that away from me, that star will shine forever.
Bill picks his phone off the dashboard, taps out a message, and slips it into his pocket. He’s very pale under his stubble, and as I catch the tension shadows under his cheekbones my heart goes out to him.
He’s waiting, quietly breathing, looking further along the street. And then he suddenly sits up straight. ‘She’s here!’ He’s biting his lip, scraping a tear away from the corner of his eye, then he leans over and kisses my cheek. ‘Thank you for this, Ivy-star, I owe you …’
It was only a brush, but I’m melting inside all over again at the touch of his lips. But mostly I’m pushing him out of the car. ‘I’ll pick you up back here around two. Go, on, go! Go! Go! Go!’
And then he’s walking away from me down the street, and I’m watching his broad shoulders, his soft jeans and his scuffed Timberland boots, his arms stretching outwards. And there’s a small girl walking along the pavement towards him, who looks so much like he does with her brown curls and her long legs. And as she sees him she starts to run, and she’s hurtling along towards him, shouting. And then he scoops her up, closes his arms around her, and spins.
And as he puts his forehead down to meet hers, there are tears running down my face, and I’m swallowing down my saliva and sniffing away my snot, and I’m murmuring, ‘… and give her a hug from me …’
