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‘Are you sure the chef wouldn’t mind?’ he asks. ‘It’s getting late …’
‘Oh she’s here all weekend, don’t worry. Right, here you guys are.’ Tally flings open a door and walks inside. There’s a huge double bed with a soft throw artfully arranged along the bottom of it. At one end, a vast window leads onto a balcony with two wooden chairs facing out over the bay. It’s beautiful in an impeccably minimalist kind of way.
‘I’ll leave you guys to it, we’re in the main sitting room when you’re ready,’ she says and heads out.
I stare after her.
‘But … but …’ I stutter.
‘But what?’ Joe asks, dropping his leather bag onto one side of the bed.
‘Where’s the other bedroom?’
Joe waits for the penny to drop. Finally it does. Of course we’re being given a room to share because we’re a couple. Why did I not think of this beforehand? And more importantly, how am I going to get through a weekend sleeping next to Joe in my current lusty state?
I just stand in the middle of the room and don’t move.
‘Listen, I’m more than happy to sleep on that,’ he says, motioning to a wooden bench in the corner. It’s got the flimsiest of cushions on it.
‘I’ll take it,’ I say.
‘Don’t be daft,’ says Joe. ‘Come on, let’s eat.’
Following the sound of laughter, we find everyone surrounded by half-drunk bottles of beer and glasses of wine in a pristine living room.
‘The gang is all here!’ Tally cheers as we walk in and I feel a buzz of satisfaction course through my veins. ‘Chef just brought these in for you,’ she adds, waving to a side table with a couple of platters on it. ‘Tempura veggies, vegan sushi, some noodles …’
I gracefully migrate (stampede) towards the food.
Meanwhile Tally’s partner Jude hops up from his plush seat and claps Joe on the back. ‘Good to finally meet you,’ he says. ‘There’s a football table in the games room, does anyone fancy a game? I might take some port with me.’
With that, every male in the room stands up and Douglas Battenberg announces that he’s a ‘demon’ at table football.
I groan. ‘Surely one of us has to be into football too. Just to balance out this gender stereotype situation happening right now?’
But it turns out, no one is.
Joe grabs his plate of food and plants a gentle kiss on my cheek. I respond with a startled thumbs up because a. my mouth’s full and b. why is he making me feel like *this* today?
‘I didn’t get a goodbye kiss,’ Frankie huffs as Joe and the lads head out. ‘One mention of the word port and Dave was out of here like a shot.’
‘Joe is very loving,’ Tally says, flinging herself down on a sofa and motioning for me to join her.
‘It’s new love, isn’t it?’ Celeste muses. While everyone else has opted for comfy clothes this evening – Tally’s told us we’re dressing up tomorrow night – Celeste is wearing a pair of skin-tight jeans and a crisp white shirt. ‘Douglas and I were like that when we first got together. Couldn’t keep our hands off each other!’
‘Go on,’ encourages Tally with a wink.
‘Well, no,’ Celeste says, looking slightly flustered. ‘I’m sure you can imagine! It was all so thrilling wasn’t it, in the early days?’
All eyes are on me. I fold my feet up under myself and take a moment to just enjoy this. I know, deep down, that these women are after some salacious gossip but I still feel genuinely chuffed to be here. I’ve gone from being an outcast to feeling like a real part of the parent team. Back in Feb Celeste thought my name was Susie and nobody would engage with me at the school gates. Three months on and I’m even being invited to stuff like this weekend, celebrating Tally’s fortieth birthday. It all feels like a huge step forward. I couldn’t have done it without Joe and his madcap ideas, I think fondly.
My thoughts must be written across my face because Frankie says: ‘Look, she’s smitten!’
Chapter 19
‘Happy humping!’ Frankie calls after us cheerily as Joe and I make our way upstairs to bed, which isn’t embarrassing at all. It turns out that all the car champagne I drank took its toll because I started yawning at half past ten, right when the group was gearing up for a drinking game. The sight of Tally lining up bottles of Patrón and shot glasses must have tipped me over the edge, because the next thing I knew Joe was crouching down by my side on the sofa, gently whispering my name. I’d dropped off, as evidenced by the line of drool trickling down my chin. Celeste was first to spot this and handed me a tissue, looking horrified that I’d allowed myself to get in such a state in front of my hot boyfriend.
‘Let’s get you some rest,’ Joe had said, holding out a hand so I could drag myself up.
