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‘I thought this was meant to be an irregular thing?’ Joe grumbles.
‘Are you working on Tuesday morning?’
‘Well … there’s nothing I couldn’t move around I suppose. Stop looking at me like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like a very pleased person who is full of hope?’
‘Surely that’s a good thing?’ I laugh. ‘Come on, it’ll be fun. Taking the kids to the park, getting some time with the other parents.’
Joe winces.
‘Joe, the plan’s in motion now. The mums think we’re together. You’ll be fine.’
‘All right. As long as you can make it too. There’s no way I’m strolling into the lion’s den on my own.’
‘Perks of working for yourself.’ I beam. ‘This is me.’
We stop outside my house and I turn to Joe, holding out a hand for him to shake. He takes it and draws me closer so that I feel his warmth against my body. Then he leans down, his hair tickling my skin as he plants a soft kiss on my cheek. The surprise of it, the way the kiss feels on my skin, is so great that I forget to breathe for a second. It’s been a while, I guess. I style this weird little feeling out by diving right back into efficient mode.
‘Don’t forget to do your homework before Tuesday,’ I say, wagging my finger like a school teacher. ‘I do not want us getting caught out!’
‘You’re frightening when you’re bossy.’ He smoulders as he leaves.
Sunday dawns bright and crisp so Lila and I decide to wrap up warm and go to a playground. Every other week we’ll head over to Mum and Dad’s for Sunday lunch, usually with Poppy and occasionally Adam too, but this weekend we have no plans. After the mad rush of the working week I cherish these slow, see-how-it-goes Sundays.
Just as Lila’s about to demonstrate how good she is at flying down the big slide (‘Look, Mummy, LOOK!’) my phone starts ringing. It’s Joe.
‘Hello,’ I say with a smile in my voice.
‘My queen!’ he replies enthusiastically.
And I’ve tangled myself up in a fake romance with a mad man. Brilliant.
‘Come again?’
‘You put me in charge of romance, remember? All good couples have sweet nicknames for each other and you chose a la reine pizza the other night, which as we all know is French for queen, so if it’s not too “tragique” …’
I laugh. ‘It’s a hard no from me, but bravo for noticing what pizza I ordered.’
‘I’ll stick with Sophie, then,’ Joe says, my name sounding good in his Irish accent. ‘I just wanted to say that I think the plan’s already working. Celeste left me a voice note yesterday which I didn’t listen to until I got back from our date. She said she’d been reading some Chekov and would love to talk through his works with me over a bottle of wine, which was genuinely terrifying. But then she must have seen our Instagram post because I got another voice note later on saying something along the lines of “silly me, must have sent that to the wrong person”.’
‘Imagine a night in with Celeste,’ I hoot.
‘Frightening stuff. So I wanted to say thanks for saving my bacon.’
‘You are most welcome.’
‘Do you guys want a lift to Oscar’s party?’
My heart breaks a little. With everything going on lately I’d forgotten that Poppy had asked if Lila had been invited. She definitely hasn’t and now there’s yet another school event Lila is missing out on because I am not part of the mum scene. I gaze over at her now, trying to run up the slide backwards, her hair in thick plaits on either side of her head. All I want in life is for my beautiful girl to be happy and right now, I can’t help but feel like I’m letting her down.
‘Lila didn’t get an invite,’ I tell Joe. My voice comes out thick.
Joe’s quiet for a minute. ‘Balls, sorry. I just assumed …’
‘Honestly don’t worry about it. It was nice of you to offer.’
