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‘I should book something,’ he says, half turning to her as he drives. ‘Where do you think? Where’s good?’
‘Not sure,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘But didn’t you used to be in the doghouse all the time for not being romantic enough? Millside, somewhere classy like that? On the other hand, you don’t want to overdo it in case she thinks you’re pressuring her. The Rockpoint?’
‘I’ve tried. Fully booked. We used to go to the Harbour a lot, but it’s shut. Too many staff off isolating. The Pilot Boat’s being refurbished.’
‘Why don’t you ask her whatshewants to do?’
‘I don’t want to look indecisive.’
Miranda shakes her head. ‘She’s got you second-guessing yourself already.’
‘It’s not like that,’ Sam protests. ‘I just want to show her I’m serious, and maybe, if we talk, she’ll realise I’m better at… well, at talking about… you know… stuff.’
‘So you definitely want to get back together? Be a couple again?’
‘I just… With the baby here, I want to be sure. I’m beginning to think… I was weak, I think.’
‘Sam!’ Miranda opens her mouth as if she’s about to say more but closes it again, tight.
‘Do you think I’m being stupid?’
‘It’s none of my business. If you guys think you can make it work, you should go for it. Just… don’t let her tell you off. Don’t apologise for every little thing. You’re a good bloke. The best. Don’t forget that.’
Across the cab of the van, he glances at her, sees she is looking at him intently.
‘She’s not like that anymore,’ he says. ‘Honestly she’s not.’
Miranda returns her gaze to the windscreen and throws up her hands. ‘OK,’ she half sighs, shoulders rising then falling. ‘OK.’
They park up outside the Higher Mill project. Darren and Lee are already there, bringing the tools out of the garage. Miranda is sliding her tape measure into the pocket of her rain jacket.
‘Mi,’ he says. ‘Are you pissed off with me?’
She lays a hand on his arm. ‘I could never be pissed off with you, you twit.’ She lifts her hand, opens the passenger door and throws her legs over the side of the van. ‘Come on, let’s see if we can get these bloody levels sorted.’
Sam hangs back, watches Miranda greet the guys with a wave. He can hear the back-and-forth rhythms of banter, though not the exact words. After a moment, he pulls his phone from his pockets and texts Naomi.
Hey. Where do you fancy going on Friday? Posh restaurant or pub? X
Hooked over his phone, he holds his breath.Naomi Harper is typing.He waits. The WhatsApp lands. He exhales in a long, shuddering rush.
Weather warm so fish and chips and walk along the seafront? Low-key. Is that OK? X
Naomi used to hate eating in the street. Used to hate eating anything fatty, come to that. If this isn’t proof of how much she’s changed, he thinks, what is?
CHAPTER 26
At seven sharp, Naomi is at the door, all smiles. Over the phone, she said she wanted to go out early as she gets tired; besides, she’s still a bit nervous about leaving Tommy in the evening. It’s strange to see her without her suit on and without Tommy. It’s like looking at a photograph of her from before, something Sam has been doing more and more lately, scrolling through the deleted album he never quite deleted permanently. Tonight she is wearing her more usual attire of wide jeans and funky jacket. She has put on more make-up too, he notices, her eyes blacker, her lips pinker and shinier, and her black hair straight rather than the wavy style she wears for work.
‘Do you like my hair?’ she asks.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Sorry, I was about to say. It looks really nice like that.’
‘I don’t have time to straighten it before work anymore.’ She smiles. He feels a rush of relief.
As they walk together down Cobb Road, she tells him that Tommy is with her sister, and fills him in on some of the cute things he’s done today. Sam suggests a drink at the Royal Standard before they grab fish and chips at the harbour; she smiles and says, sure, sounds great. The pub is empty and they are told to take seats outside.
‘I’m getting used to drinking outdoors,’ Naomi says after they’ve ordered – a pint of Tribute for him, half a lager for her. ‘It’s more Scandinavian, isn’t it? I’d like to live in Scandinavia. Finland or Copenhagen or somewhere like that.’
