It’s after eleven when Spence returns, shaking me awake from the large grey sofa. ‘Hey…’ I say sleepily. ‘How’d it go?’
He sits at the other end, a small smile playing on his mouth. ‘Good.’
‘Yeah?’ I shift up. ‘And…?’
‘And nothing…’ He trails off, glancing at the screen where Madonna isDesperately Seeking Susan, a small frown forming. ‘It’s complicated. I need to tread lightly…’
I yawn and sit up. ‘So, you’re going to see her again?’ I reach over for the controller and lower the volume.
He rubs his chin as though that will rub off the smile dimpling beneath his hand. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I think so.’
‘Get you, first date in Christ knows how long, and you’ve hit it in one.’
‘I didn’t hit it.’
‘First base?’ I ask playfully.
He reaches over and takes a Dorito, chewing it slowly.
‘Second?’
‘Jesus, Al.’ He shakes his head at me.
‘What? I’m just glad you’re getting back on the horse!’
He takes another Dorito and nods but then scratches the back of his head. ‘It’s still early days. We’ll see.’
‘I’m really pleased for you, Spence.’
He needs this. Spence is the best of people, and it’s good to see him stepping back out into the world of dating. For too long his studies, his responsibilities to Georgia, and making his way up the ranks of the local secondary school has meant he’s put dating on the backburner. He’s had a few relationships over the years, but nothing serious enough to warrant introducing them to his daughter. Jude Law’sThe Holidayrules I called it.
‘So… she could be your Cameron Diaz, then?’
He ignores me, nodding towards the TV instead. ‘What’s with Madonna?’
‘Research!’ I enthuse. ‘I’m trying to imagine what it must be like for Michael, you know? With all the denim, girls in lace gloves and big hair and…’
He looks questioningly at the screen. I haven’t told him about the way writing to Michael makes me feel. That strange connection.
‘Oh God. You fancy him, don’t you?’
‘What? No! Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even know what he looks like. I just like the way he writes. He’s funny, yet?—’
‘Vulnerable?’ he says, fluttering his eyelashes.
I whack him with a cushion.
‘You know he’ll be in his seventies now, right?’
‘So? Pierce Brosnan’s still got it and so has Kevin Costner.’
‘Do you know what else they’ve got? Arthritis.’
We’re quiet for a moment. I watch the chemistry between Madonna and Aiden Quinn. Dark hair, big blue eyes… I mentally add him to my image of what Michael might look like.
‘Fancy a cuppa?’ Spence asks.
‘I’ll get going…’
