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‘Peace and quiet, I think,’ said Hannah. ‘Trees and flowers. He calls himself a Humanist, which is all about kindness and compassion, having a meaningful life.’
‘Sounds like my kind of religion. Do you think he’s happy?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘I think so. I know the situation with Luke bothers him. I might talk to him about it tomorrow.’
‘Don’t spoil his good mood,’ said Rob quickly, appearing in his boxers and a very fitted T-shirt. He looked entirely delicious, and Hannah suddenly felt quite warm. ‘I need his kindness and compassion to extend to being Scrumpy’s temporary guardian.’
‘Well, best you don’t mess up then,’ she said playfully. ‘Accidentally reveal your tennis skills, or start boring him to death with details of your llama allergy.’
‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ Rob mumbled. ‘Not sure where that came from.’
‘Peru, probably,’ laughed Hannah, gently rolling Scrumpy into the middle of the bed so she could hop under the sheet.
‘You’re very funny,’ said Rob.
‘Also, can you actually cook?’
‘Sure,’ said Rob, but Hannah could hear the slight wobble in his voice. ‘Everyone can cook, right?’
‘I’m not talking about beans on toast,’ said Hannah. ‘Graham is, like, a proper cook, when he feels like it. He’s been to classes to learn all those fancy Ottolenghi recipes so he can impress his boring friends. I’ve told Dad about that, so he’s going to be expecting something amazing.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ said Rob. ‘Just take him for a walk or something, give me a couple of hours to sort things out.’
‘OK,’ she said. ‘It’ll be a good opportunity to talk to him about Luke. Have a family chat.’ She surreptitiously watched Rob clean his teeth and ruffle his hair around, imagining for the hundredth time what it might be like if they were a couple. Admittedly some of those imaginings had been naked and horizontal, but the majority had been about whether there was any future for two people as different as they were. Whatever feelings she had for him didn’t change who they both were, and she definitely wasn’t ready to risk that kind of pain so soon after Graham.
‘Is this OK?’ asked Rob, climbing into bed next to her, Scrumpy occupying the no-man’s land between them. ‘I can sleep on the sofa if you like.’
‘Then my dad will think we’ve had a fight,’ she said. She lay rigid under the sheet, her nerves jangling at how close he was. It occurred to her that she was thirty-two years old and this was the first time she’d ever shared a bed with anyone but Graham. How many beds had Rob shared? Could he even remember?
‘You OK?’ he whispered.
‘Yeah, I’m good,’ she said. ‘Pretty tired.’
‘Mmm. Me too.’
‘Night, then.’
There was a tiny pause, like Rob was about to say something, then changed his mind. ‘Night,’ he said, then turned onto his side so he was facing her, his body curved around Scrumpy’s sleeping form.
Hannah lay awake long after Rob had fallen asleep, thinking about how sometimes this felt like an adventure, and other times it felt like a tangled mess. She wished she could ask the TITS ladies for advice, but she’d already messaged them once today to say she and Rob had been hiking again. No mention of the visit to her dad’s; it was too complicated to explain, and she could imagine the reaction to the news that Rob was pretending to be her husband and they were sharing her dad’s spare bed. Sometimes it was best to keep your stupidest ideas to yourself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
‘Please don’t apologise,’ said Joyce as Rob shanked the ball into the net for the umpteenth time. She hadn’t changed a bit since Hannah had last seen her three years ago – still a large, well-groomed woman in her sixties with a huge smile and a killer backhand. Personally Hannah thought Rob was over-egging it, hacking the ball around the court like he was clearing a jungle path with a machete. Then every now and then he’d accidentally stroke a forehand across the net with effortless style and leave everyone a bit speechless.
‘Perhaps we should take that as a sign to call it a day,’ said Barnaby calmly. ‘I’ll go and get the balls.’ He put his racquet by the fence and headed off into the surrounding scrubland with Scrumpy on his heels, bounding towards one of the dozen or so yellow balls Rob had fired into the sun.
‘I’ll go and help,’ mumbled Rob, hurrying off after him so it was just Hannah and Joyce left on the court.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Hannah said. ‘He’s a little inconsistent.’
‘That’s rather an understatement,’ Joyce said with a smile. She had a posh English accent that reeked of old money, with added gravelly undertones from decades of heavy smoking. Usually cigarettes, but Hannah had once seen her puffing on a cigar and her dad had mentioned that she occasionally enjoyed a pipe. Her traditional Spanish villa was huge and beautiful from a distance, half a mile further up the hill from Barnaby, behind electric gates. But close up it was all crumbling plaster and cracked tiles. The tennis court was immaculate, however.
‘Forgive me for being blunt, but Graham is nothing like I expected,’ said Joyce, fishing a pack of Camels from her pocket and lighting one with a red plastic lighter.
‘Oh,’ said Hannah, instantly wary. Her father seemed entirely oblivious, but Joyce was a wily old bird and didn’t miss a trick. ‘In what way?’
‘He doesn’t look like a solicitor,’ she said, watching Rob pick up three tennis balls and juggle with them for Scrumpy’s entertainment.
