The Good Part(74)

As we’re walking back to the car, Felix points to us both and says, ‘Oh look, it’s Pocket Day.’

‘Happy Pocket Day, Felix!’ Sam says with a grin.

‘Bocket Bay,’ says Amy.

‘What’s Pocket Day?’ I ask.

‘When we’re all wearing clothes with pockets it’s Pocket Day,’ Sam explains. ‘Felix made it up.’

‘It’s only Pocket Day when it’s the whole family!’ Felix seems thrilled, showing me the pockets in his little jogging bottoms, and pointing to Amy’s coat pockets.

‘So, what happens on Pocket Day?’ I ask.

‘Nothing.’ Felix looks at me as though this is a ridiculous question. ‘It’s just Pocket Day.’

‘Happy Pocket Day,’ Sam repeats, taking my hand and swinging it back and forth. Their joy is contagious, and for a moment, I am one of them. But there’s no time to savour the feeling, because Felix trips on a stone, flying forward, and then screams as he lands chin first on the gravel path. I should have been watching more carefully; he’s fallen here before, on this exact path. The thin scar on his forehead is from where he landed on a sharp rock.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask, running to put a hand over his bleeding chin. Did I just imagine that other fall, or do I remember it? I examine Felix’s forehead – there is a narrow scar, just by his hairline.

‘People aren’t supposed to get hurt on Pocket Day!’ Felix wails mournfully.



That night, when we finally crawl into bed, our bed, together, Sam pulls me close. There’s that connection again, the spark I felt on date night, only now I am entirely sober. I am probably more tired than I have ever been, but my body still tingles with the anticipation of Sam’s touch. I want to tell him about the glimpse I had in the park, but also, I don’t, because I don’t know what it means.

Sam strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. ‘Hello, beautiful wife,’ he says in a low whisper.

‘Hello,’ I whisper back. He leans in to kiss me, slowly, gently, tugging my lower lip into his mouth, running one hand up into my hair. The other strokes up the small of my back, beneath my T-shirt, sweeping around to firmly cup my breast in one exquisite motion. I let out an involuntary moan and then: ‘My chin hurts. Can I sleep in bed with you?’ a bleary-eyed Felix asks from the doorway.

‘Ah . . . sure, buddy,’ Sam says, moving aside to make room for his son. Felix scrambles between us, like a baby bird returning to a nest. I fall asleep curled around him, my hand entwined in Sam’s above his head.

‘Love you, Mummy, love you, Dad,’ he mumbles.

‘I love you too, Felix,’ I say.

Sam squeezes my hand twice, a lovers’ Morse code in the dark.





Chapter 28


The next morning, poor night of sleep next to a sharp-elbowed child be damned, I’m up early, and on the seven-fifteen train to London. I want to be in before anyone else, I want to be prepared. As my train arrives at Waterloo there’s a text from Sam, a photo of a book with a ring of Amy-shaped tooth marks on the corner of the cover: I think your book might have some plot holes ?.

The message makes me smile, and I walk to work with a new bounce in my step. I tap out a reply: Amy’s book review – ‘bitingly witty and hole-some.’

At work, once the whole team has assembled, I call everyone into the downstairs meeting room. Callum hovers at the door, offering to go and make tea, but I beckon him in.

‘Callum, get in here, we can live without tea. Now, I know we’re under time pressure,’ I say. ‘The pitch is in eleven days and we haven’t settled on an idea yet. I’m sorry I haven’t been more present in the office, I’ve had some personal issues to deal with, but I’m here now.’ I pause, surveying the room. Trey looks exhausted, though he’s wearing a cheerful sequinned tank top, with matching beret. Michael is buttoning and unbuttoning the top button of his waistcoat. Dominique and Leon look up at me with wide-eyed expectation, while Callum just looks thrilled to be here.

‘So, I’m counting on you to help me translate this idea into a workable show, but I wanted to tell you about this game I play with my son. It’s like the floor is lava but it’s not just the floor that’s going to get you, it’s everything in the house. The airing cupboard is a dragon’s lair, a waterfall’s coming down the stairs, the kitchen is a cave of killer bats.’

‘ “The House Is Going to Get You”,’ says Dominique.

‘Yes, exactly. I haven’t worked out a format, but I like the concept of turning places we know into the location for an adventure, using household objects to defeat monsters. Can you work with that as a jumping-off point?’

The energy in the room slowly shifts, as everyone starts talking, all keen to contribute.

‘Scene! The office is filling with water,’ says Leon, jumping onto his chair. ‘We need a boat, but all we have is . . .’ He looks to Dominique, and she hands him an imaginary object.

‘This giant stapler.’ Everyone laughs as he and Dominique mime stapling together a boat out of pieces of paper, climbing into it and then slowly sinking. They take a bow then head back to their seats, but Michael says, ‘No, keep going.’

Leon and Dominique carry on their game, imagining disasters befalling the office, which they overcome using office equipment.