I couldn’t tell if the movie was any good because I barely watched it. When we went into the cinema, Holly insisted on going into the row first then I was instructed to sit next to her. Next came Sam then Jack. We’d stocked up on sweet and salted popcorn, hotdogs, pick ’n’ mix and those huge cups of Coke with a plastic lid and a straw. I munched my way through the adverts, chatting and giggling with Holly as we did our vampire impressions with candy fake teeth, then our best shocked faces as we sucked on sour cherries. Being with Sam and the children was a lot of fun.
When the cinema went dark and the movie began, Holly took my hand over the arm of the chair. Her tiny fingers were sticky and warm. She was the sweetest little girl and Sam was doing such a good job of bringing her and Jack up. But I sensed that she missed having a mother around. Well, what little girl wouldn’t? I mean, with all of her faults at least Esther had been there. I hadn’t had a gaping mother-shaped hole or been left wondering what it would be like to have a mum. Sometimes I’d wished that Esther would just bugger off but only in my darkest moments.
I used my free hand to manoeuvre my drink to my mouth, as well as to shovel sweets in when I craved them. But the characters on screen might just as well have not been there for all the notice I took. My left elbow was resting on the armrest on Sam’s side and every so often his arm or his elbow would brush up against mine. It might not have been deliberate but it was delicious all the same. Feeling his warmth and his huge male body so close to mine gave me a sense of security, of being a part of something. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he laughed along with Jack and admired how the light from the screen lit up his eyes and highlighted the creases of his smile and his bobbing Adam’s apple. He was everything a woman could want. Totally desirable, sweet and kind.
The last twenty minutes of the movie were predictably emotional and I held my breath as Holly climbed down from her booster seat and came to stand in front of me.
‘Can I sit on your lap?’ she whispered.
‘Of course,’ I replied, taking her under the arms and lifting her up.
I caught Sam grinning at me as Holly settled back against me and reached around to take hold of my hair. As she sat there, warm and contented, she twirled my hair in her sticky fingers, over and over, seeking comfort from its curls. The movement made me sleepy and I rested my head against the headrest. If this was motherhood, it was pretty damned fine. Who wouldn’t enjoy a family cinema trip?
All too soon, the credits rolled and it was time to pick up our things and go. I rubbed Holly’s arm but she didn’t move.
‘Holly. Time to go now, sweetie.’
She turned in my arms and wrapped her hands around my neck. As she pressed her face into me, I could feel that her cheeks were wet.
‘Holly?’
‘She always cries at happy endings,’ Jack explained.
I glanced at Sam and he nodded, his eyes twinkling.
‘Oh, Holly, it’s okay, my darling.’ I kissed the top of her soft hair. ‘Happy endings are a good thing.’
She peered up at me. ‘I know. They just make me hurt sometimes. In here.’ She pointed at her chest.
‘They do that to everyone. It’s fine to feel that way.’ I smiled at her and wiped her tears away with my thumbs. ‘Come on. I’ll tell you a story in the car.’
‘You will?’ Her face lit up.
‘Sure.’
We gathered our coats and litter, then left. I hadn’t taken much notice of the film but I had learnt more about this lovely family. Perhaps I was getting in too deep and this would end up hurting us. I mean, there was no guarantee that it would work out, but aren’t all relationships a risk? Sam and I could, of course, just remain friends and keep going like this.
But I wasn’t sure that being just his friend, or some kind of honorary aunt to Jack and Holly, would be enough.
***
‘Katie?’ Sam glanced at me as he negotiated his way out of the multiplex car park.
‘Yes?’ I sat forward to listen as I was in the back with Holly.
‘Would you like to come have some supper with us?’
Would I?
‘Please say yes, Katie.’ Holly squeezed my hand.
‘Yes, please. That would be lovely.’ At least the going back to their house would be. I wasn’t sure that I could fit anything on top of all the sweets and popcorn. My jeans were already cutting into my belly.
Sam drove us back to his house, which was a five-minute drive from my parents’ in Sevenoaks. When we’d brought the dogs back earlier, I’d been surprised when he drove onto one of those relatively new housing estates and I’d thought he must live in a new build but when he reached the end of the one street he kept on going. He’d carried on through a country lane before taking a sharp right onto a gravel driveway.
The car crunched over the gravel now and he pulled up in front of a very pretty and very old cottage with an authentic thatched roof. It looked like it had come out of a picture book about the Tudors. When I’d come back here earlier, I’d had to force my mouth closed as he’d given me the quick tour of downstairs. It was truly beautiful. Eclectic. A mixture of old and new furniture, colourful throws over sofas and chairs, real wooden floors in some rooms and flagstones in others. The floors in the lounge and study were warmed up with bright rag rugs and the lounge boasted a huge stone fireplace that had obviously been there since the house was built. The ceilings were low and bore heavy dark-wood beams but the large windows prevented it from feeling claustrophobic.
The kitchen was part of an extension on the rear of the building, and Sam told me he’d had to get special permission to build it as the house was listed, so the new section had to be built in the same fashion and decorated identically. The walls were painted buttercup yellow and the tiles around the oak units were Mexican with a variety of colours and patterns. A large red Aga took pride of place and was surrounded by an oak mantel. A pine table and chairs sat before French doors that opened out onto a rather spacious walled garden.
Sam let the dogs out and the children ran off to remove shoes and coats and go to the bathroom.
‘Tea? Coffee? Wine?’ Sam opened the fridge and pulled out a cold bottle of Pinot Grigio.
I eyed the bottle and licked my lips. It was tempting. But I had to drive later and—
‘You can always stay over.’ He grinned and ran a hand through his dark hair.
‘Oh. I’m uh…not sure. What about…’ I gestured at the ceiling as what sounded like a herd of cattle thundered across it just above our heads.
‘You can take the spare room. It’s where family and friends always stay.’
The spare room. Of course. What did I expect? That Sam would have me stay over in the bed he’d shared with his wife? I shuddered. When his kids were here? He wasn’t some kind of irresponsible and callous idiot.
‘Um, shall we see how things go?’
I glanced at the garden. It was getting dark now and I didn’t really fancy driving the hour and a half back to the flat.
‘You can tell Ann that Holly wanted you to stay,’ Sam suggested. ‘Or that you stayed at your parents’. She doesn’t need to know if you don’t want her to.’
‘You think she’ll buy that?’
‘We’re not horny teenagers, Katie.’ Sam flushed. ‘We are adults and you don’t need anyone’s permission.’
‘I know, I know.’ My cheeks burned.
Sam crossed the kitchen and reached out to me, placing his hands on my shoulders, then he tucked my hair behind my ears. ‘We are consenting adults here, Katie. And I’ve thought long and hard about this since Christmas. We’re not doing anything wrong. Maria was leaving me and even if she hadn’t been, even if we’d been happy, she’s gone.’
‘I just don’t want to be irresponsible.’
‘You’re not being irresponsible, Katie. You’re making an old friend and his two children, and his two dogs, very happy. And I’m not just any man, am I? We have a past that means something.’
He stroked my cheek with his thumb and my knees almost gave way. An old friend? A very special and gorgeous friend indeed. He leant forwards until his face almost touched mine and I held his gaze. His lips met mine and I closed my eyes, moaning into his kiss. Then cold seeped through my jumper and into my bra and my left nipple sprang to attention. I gasped and Sam kissed me harder, pulling me closer.
‘Sam,’ I mumbled into his lips. ‘It’s cold, Sam.’
He nipped at my bottom lip before pulling away and I almost lost my balance. As he moved, the wine bottle did too and I breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Oh no!’ He laughed as he eyed my top. ‘Sorry, I got a bit carried away.’
I followed his gaze and sure enough, there was a big wet mark over my left boob. As he’d moved into me the condensation from the cold bottle had soaked in.
‘I think I needed that cold shower,’ I said, as I grabbed the kitchen roll and dabbed at my jumper, willing my pointy nipple to relax again.
‘I could do with a cold shower too,’ Sam whispered as he kissed the back of my neck, then crossed the kitchen to the drawers and pulled out a bottle opener.
I knew that I should kindly decline then drive back to the flat, but I just couldn’t find it in me to leave. I’d had such a lovely evening and I wanted to have supper with Jack and Holly, then cuddle up on one of their big squishy sofas and watch TV with them. I didn’t want to go back to my lonely bed, to the flat where I felt like a spare part. Ann and Mark did their best not to make me feel like a gooseberry but it was just natural that they needed time alone. If I stayed at Sam’s tonight, I’d be doing Ann and Mark a favour too.
And anyway, I was fairly certain after that kiss and what Sam had said that he didn’t want me to go either. So I’d stay. For his sake, for Jack and Holly’s, and for Ann and Mark’s. It was the right thing to do.
Wasn’t it?
***
Sam was quite impressive in the kitchen. He made me take a seat at the table then he whizzed around the kitchen chopping onions, mushrooms and herbs, then throwing them into a pan with minced beef and putting garlic bread into the oven. Before I knew it, the kitchen was filled with the delicious aromas of garlic and tomatoes. I sat at the table sipping my wine and letting the relaxing tones of Kenny G’s saxophone wash over me. Holly and Jack were currently plonked in front of the TV in the lounge watching some kids’ detective series and I found the knowledge that they were nearby comforting. Was I actually admitting to enjoying cosy domesticity?
‘So you can cook then?’ I raised my eyebrows at Sam as he poured a generous glug of red wine into the bolognese.
‘Oh absolutely.’
‘I don’t recall you being that handy in the kitchen.’
He grinned, then cupped a hand around the side of his mouth. ‘I’m like Jamie Oliver but only with chilli or spag bol. This is my specialty…the dish I use to impress the ladies.’
My stomach clenched, even though I knew he was only teasing.
‘Oh yeah?’ I lifted my glass. ‘And you get much success from this specialty dish, do you?’ I eyed him over the rim of white wine, breathing in the honeysuckle and mango notes.
He turned to me, his tomato-covered wooden spoon in the air and winked. ‘Well, my dear Katie Warham. That is what I hope to discover tonight.’
He stared at me, holding my gaze, and I tingled all over as if I’d just washed in mint shower gel. His attention was invigorating, exciting and addictive. My cheeks burnt and I forced myself to lower my eyes. Was he saying that he wanted me…tonight?
‘Sorry,’ he whispered. ‘Too much?’
I shook my head. ‘No. Not too much.’ Not enough! ‘I just…uh…’ I’m so hot for you!
‘I like having you sitting at my table, Katie. It feels natural.’ He stirred the spaghetti with a fork, then pulled out a strand and nibbled the end of it.
‘I like being here too, Sam,’ I said. ‘Can I use the bathroom before we eat?’
‘Upstairs.’ He pointed with the fork. ‘Straight in front of you when you get to the first landing.’
‘Thanks.’
I left the kitchen and passed the lounge, peeking in on the children as I went. They were glued to the screen, the bulldogs passed out on the floor in front of them, the image of domestic bliss.
I climbed the stairs and located the bathroom. It was extremely clean, white and minimalistic. White walls, white tiles and white bathroom suite. The only colour came from a variety of toys which sat along the tap end of the deep tub. The room smelt of cleaning products and bubble bath, that comforting homely smell of a house that’s lived in.
After I’d washed and dried my hands, I switched off the light and stepped out onto the landing. I knew I should go straight downstairs but the temptation was just too much. It edged through me like an itch screaming out to be scratched and I surrendered. Just a quick peek wouldn’t hurt, would it?
I crept across the landing and gently opened the first door. It sung wide to reveal a little girl’s room. Pink and purple walls, bedding and curtains. There were Barbies, Sylvanians and an assortment of other toys all over the floor. On a petite desk equipped with a matching stool, there was an open colouring book and a few crayons of different lengths. So little Holly wasn’t a tidy child. That made me grin. She clearly started one game, then changed her mind and moved on to another. I pulled the door shut then tried the next one.
Jack’s room. I bit my lip to hold back my gasp of surprise. Surely a young boy didn’t own this green and yellow room? It was so neat and tidy. Everything was neatly packed into plastic tubs or stacked on shelves and the bed was perfectly made. How could this room belong to a child? It tugged at my heart as I stood there staring. Was this how Jack coped then? By controlling his things and keeping everything he owned in perfect order. I tiptoed back out, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. Sam was doing a wonderful job but I could see that Jack was missing something that he needed. Was he being so neat and tidy to help his father out? Was his control over his own space a reaction to losing his mother? I yearned to help him, to scoop him up into my arms and mother him. Yet simultaneously, I feared what that meant. Could I live up to the job?
The final door was next to another staircase that I assumed must lead up to the attic. I pushed it open then stepped inside. The moonlight shone through the window and it bathed the room in a warm yellow glow. There was a double bed made up with cream bed linen, a matching mahogany dresser, two double wardrobes stood side by side and a dressing table. The stool in front of the table was covered in clothes that looked like they’d been abandoned in a hurry. On the bedside cabinet nearest the window was a pile of books, a bendy-necked lamp and a glass with about an inch of water in it. I smiled. Sam wasn’t as fastidious as his son.
On the other bedside table was a framed photograph. I crept across and lifted it, holding it towards the light. My stomach lurched. It showed a pretty blonde woman beaming at the camera. Her hair fell fetchingly around her face and in her arms was a tiny red-faced baby wrapped in a blue hospital issue blanket. I peered at the baby, trying to decide if it was Jack or Holly.
‘What are you doing?’
I froze. Uh oh! I’d been caught out nosing around.
I placed the photograph back in its place then turned to face the inquisition. Jack stood in the doorway, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.
‘I was…looking for the bathroom,’ I lied, hoping that he hadn’t heard the chain flush earlier.
‘Oh. Well this is Daddy’s room. Come on, I’ll show you to the bathroom.’ He held out a hand and I stared at it.
‘Thanks, Jack. Silly me, eh? But I saw the photo and wondered…is that you and your mummy?’
He took my hand and led me out into the hallway, then closed the door behind us. ‘Yes.’
‘You were a handsome baby.’
He eyed me as if trying to work out whether I was telling the truth. I waited. And waited. Feeling that I would wilt under the intensity of his eight-year-old gaze.
‘Thank you.’ He finally broke the silence and I exhaled slowly. ‘My mummy was lovely. I miss her.’
‘Of course you do, Jack, and I bet she misses you too.’
He lowered his gaze and kicked at the carpet with his bare toes. ‘Maybe. Now Daddy says hurry up because dinner is ready.’
‘Of course!’ I clicked my heels together and saluted him. The action brought a smile to his face that warmed me right through.
‘Can you find your own way back down, Katie?’
I nodded.
‘You’re very lucky having Daddy’s spag bol, you know. He only cooks it for people he likes.’ He flashed me a grin then ran off down the stairs, taking them two at a time in a way that made my heart flutter. I fought the urge to tell him to be careful. He needed to be more carefree, more of a child. Not to carefully measure each step before he took it. At Christmas I’d seen him as a young boy, watched him enjoying the festivities, but at home, he seemed more serious and somehow older than his years. Perhaps being away had allowed him to forget, if just for a little while, the tough reality of losing a parent.
Jack’s words rang in my ears as I went back into the bathroom and rewashed my hands. Sam only made his bolognese for people he liked. And Jack had cared enough to tell me. Did this mean that both of them liked me enough to want me around?
Could I really be that lucky?
As I skipped down the stairs, mimicking Jack’s childish descent, I found myself really hoping that I was right.