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‘Welcome, Miss Rogers and Miss Lila! Please follow me.’
‘But the car? And what about all of our stuff?’ I protest. And how do you know our names, I don’t add.
‘Our valet will park your car, madam, if you wouldn’t mind handing over the key, and our porters are here for your luggage. My name is Reginald, your butler, and I’ll be here throughout your stay. May I show you around?’
So, it turns out that we’re staying in the swankiest hotel I’ve seen in my life. Despite being right next to the actual sea, this place boasts three swimming pools. Three! One is bigger than an Olympic pool and stretches from inside to out thanks to a beautifully constructed glass atrium with a missing wall at one end. There’s a library, a bar, four dining areas, a spa, a golf course and then there’s the kids’ club. I will write poems in praise of the kids’ club for the rest of my life.
We find Mum and Dad unpacked and enjoying a cup of tea in their room, balcony doors flung open and a sea breeze rippling the toile curtains. Mum’s got her towelling robe already on and Dad suggests a room service tea, which is a great idea because I sense that Lila is one to two seconds away from an exhaustion-infused meltdown.
Half an hour later, full on club sandwiches with a side of fries, Lila has curled into a ball on Mum’s bed and fallen asleep.
‘It’s a shame lovely Joe can’t make it,’ Mum mentions as I collect up our stuff.
‘It is,’ I agree. ‘He got caught up with work.’
‘I rather got the impression from Poppy that you and he might be more than friends?’
‘What?’ I squawk. Bloody Poppy. She was ‘totally devo’, in her words, that Joe had pulled out of the wedding. After getting tied up in knots over what to say to her about the whole mess, I decided to hold off on the break-up just yet and stick with the truth, that he couldn’t come because of work. I haven’t mentioned York, or the fake split, or anything else because I can’t face it. So my plan is to get through this weekend with the family unscathed and then, because I’ll be refreshed and feeling brave enough to have a conversation with Joe without wanting to cry, I’ll see what he thinks about when we should announce the split.
‘She hasn’t said anything,’ Mum says, quickly stepping in to defend my sister. ‘It was just a … what do you kids call it? A vibe! I was getting a vibe from the two of you.’
‘What kind of vibe?’
‘A romantic vibe.’
‘Right, well, no. No romance for Sophie! You know me, Mum.’
With one of her looks Mum lets me know that my attempt to brush this under the carpet has failed dramatically. She takes my hand.
‘You know Dad and I are so proud of you for everything you’ve achieved on your own. Raising Lila, the business—’
‘I left the business a long time ago, Mum,’ I cut in.
‘I’m not talking about Mylk It! I’m talking about your business. The art gallery in Bath, the seafood truck in Bristol, Joe’s mum, Akoni and all of your other clients! You’ve done so much since you left Mylk It, sometimes I worry that you don’t give yourself enough credit for those new achievements. Akoni’s new menu is so wonderful. He told me you helped him do it all, that you encouraged his idea to stick with British food with a modern twist. And the pub is always busy. I don’t know if it would be without you.’
Hmm. Mother may have a point.
‘Take stock, Sophie. Appreciate everything you have done under your own steam. You’re a powerhouse, darling. But how long do you have to go on proving yourself, by yourself?’
‘I don’t think I’m trying to prove anything, Mum.’
‘Are you sure?’
That night I toss and turn as I think on what Mum said. Is she right? I can’t have allowed the success of Mylk It to overshadow everything I’ve achieved since then, can I? I work my way through all six pillows on my bed, trying to get comfy.
I thought I’d been so focused on moving forwards, on getting shit done all by myself. Setting up home, raising Lila, leaving behind a bad man and a bad marriage. But while I have achieved all of those things in a practical sense – I mean, I am physically and literally disentangled from all of life before Lila – maybe I haven’t caught up on an emotional level?
The realisation is unsettling. Have I been so hell-bent on proving myself as a success in my own right that I’ve been completely blind to something that’s been staring me right in the face these past five months?
I want to be proud of myself for everything I’ve achieved and accept that there might be new chapters to come. Maybe I haven’t done either. I remember something that Poppy had said to me, that my relationship with Mark shouldn’t be the last relationship I ever had. And she was right. I need to realise it is okay when I make a mistake. So perhaps a decision I thought was for the best might actually not be the case any longer?
As my thoughts stop me from sinking into sleep, I come to the only natural conclusion: I have been too quick to rule out love, after all. I remember what Joe said to me at the café after The Kiss. When he’d told me he liked me more than just friends. We both have to want it, right?
I do want it. I’ve always wanted it. I’ve just been too scared by what might happen if things go wrong.
But things did go wrong with Mark, and I survived.
And things won’t go wrong with Joe.
