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I turned from wiping down the worktops as he slid the phone back into his pocket. He didn’t volunteer the caller’s identity, and it was definitely not my place to ask. But it surprised me how badly I wanted to. I had heard the affection in his voice as he had spoken to whomever was on the end of the line.
Stupidly, when I had reached out to Mitch in the middle of the night, it hadn’t even occurred to me that he might not be alone. Was Sally the mystery caller, waiting patiently in his bed for him to return? If itwasher, she must be furious that he’d been dragged out of her arms by another woman. I sure as hell would be.
I walked with him to the front door, feeling dwarfed beside him as my boots had long since been discarded.
‘Get some rest, Maddie,’ he said kindly, his fingers grazing lightly on the skin beneath my eyes, which the mirror confirmed was so darkly shadowed it almost looked bruised.
Two friends with one thought, Mitch leant down to kiss my cheek at the exact same moment that I tilted my face to drop a peck on his. The angles were all wrong and our lips collided, and then instantly froze. For a punchy, sleep-deprived moment mine defrosted first, and moved tentatively against the soft skin of his mouth before realising the folly of their actions.
I stepped quickly backwards, thankful I hadn’t turned on the hall light, because I was scared of what I might see in his eyes. What the hell was I doing, initiating a kiss when he was on his way back to another woman’s bed?
‘Sorry. I’m so tired I’m not thinking straight,’ I apologised.
‘Don’t give it another thought,’ he said, ducking his head the way he always had to do to get through the doorway.
Except I did. Quite a lot of them in fact, before dawn eventually broke through the bedroom curtains and I finally fell asleep.
CHAPTER 7
‘Are you going to tell them?’
I wasn’t really surprised by her question. It was probably the one I would have asked at her age. And I had seen it burning in her eyes throughout our twenty-minute discussion about the events of the previous night.
‘Areyou going to tell them?’ Hope asked again, her voice wobbling with anxiety.
‘No,’ I said, reaching past the empty cereal bowl on the table to take hold of her hand. ‘Youare.’
I wondered if she was going to refuse, but Chloe had done a better job of raising her than that. ‘I knew you were going to say that.’
We smiled, and for a second it was like looking into a mirror.
Her phone interrupted the moment by vibrating on the table, as it had done at least half a dozen times since we’d sat down for the talk I had been dreading half the night. It was my first experience of having to walk the dangerous tightrope between wanting to be my daughter’s best friend and making her realise she had made some seriously bad decisions. No wonder Chloe was going grey, I thought. This wasreallytough.
‘Are you going to answer that?’ I asked, looking down at her phone. The mobile had juddered a pathway across the table during our conversation, moving from her plate, past the empty orange juice glass, and was now nudging impatiently against the carton of milk. Dan’s name and photograph lit up the screen once again, looking – it had to be said – considerably more presentable than he’d done in reality the night before.
‘No, I’m not,’ Hope declared firmly, pressing the button to decline his call. ‘Dan Abbots can go do one as far as I’m concerned. We’re done.’
‘Perhaps you should lead with that when you talk to your dad,’ I suggested as I got to my feet and dropped a kiss on her still-wet-from-the-shower hair. ‘It might help.’
Hope’s laugh was rueful. She had messed up, she knew that, but at least she was mature enough to want to make amends.
‘It’ll be fine,’ I assured her. ‘Everyone screws up when they’re a teenager. It’s practically a rite of passage. Just learn from this one and move on.’
‘And next time pick a boyfriend who isn’t a total dick.’
‘Am I meant to be telling you off for swearing like a marine?’ I asked, happy the mood between us had lightened.
‘No. I don’t think so,’ Hope replied innocently.
Thirty minutes later she emerged from her bedroom wearing one of my new tops, that I’d probably never see again, and carrying an enormous stone-washed denim jacket that definitely wasn’t mine. A snapshot of Mitch shrugging out of the jacket last night and slipping it around Hope’s shoulders went off like a flashbulb in my head. Later I had eased her gently out of it before covering her with the duvet, but I’d forgotten to return the jacket to its rightful owner.
‘Will you thank Mitch for lending me this and for… well, for everything else,’ Hope said, glancing at her watch. ‘He’s a really nice man… and kind of fit, for an old guy.’
I snorted into my coffee at the slightly twisted compliment. ‘I’ll be sure to tell him that.’
From somewhere nearby a car horn sounded. ‘I think that’s my taxi,’ Hope said peering through the window. I could practically see the years falling off her as she walked with reluctant steps towards the front door. All at once sixteen didn’t seem very old or brave.
‘I’ll walk you to the car,’ I said, throwing Mitch’s jacket around my own shoulders to combat the stiff breeze that was leaving a trail of goosebumps on my bare arms. The smell of him instantly encompassed me. It was a cocktail of the toiletries he wore and an indefinable signature aroma that was as distinctive as a fingerprint. It almost felt like there were three of us walking down the black and white tiled pathway to the kerb, instead of just two.
