There’s a beat, then Ashleigh gets out of the car. ‘You don’t have a choice.’
On Christmas Day, Bobby wakes up early. He pads downstairs, makes himself a coffee and pulls on his coat, then walks into the woods to call Mia. Mia is the best thing ever to have happened to him. Better than boxing, better than acting, and better – so, so much better – than Ashleigh. He would feel bad for cheating on his wife, if it weren’t for her habit of shagging Premier League footballers whenever she could get away with it.
‘Merry Christmas, gorgeous.’ Out on the lake a bird dives for a fish, emerging with a flash of silver in its beak.
‘Did Santa come?’ Mia sounds sleepy.
Bobby gives a dirty laugh. ‘He will later.’
‘I can’t wait.’
They’d been careful, in the summer, meeting outside, or in pubs miles from anywhere. Mia’s neighbours were the net-curtain-twitching type, and all it would take would be an anonymous tip-off to the papers for Bobby’s extramarital affair to be common knowledge. Bobby doesn’t give a fuck, but Ashleigh would go apeshit. What about the plan?
Meeting outside was all well and good in the summer, but December, in north Wales? He’d be lucky to coax Little Bobby out from his boxers. Tonight, Mia will leave her front door on the latch and Bobby will slip in, and then – well. Slip in.
Just before eleven, the Christmas Day swimmers start to congregate. Bobby and Ashleigh have put their differences aside, helped in no small part by the Gucci handbag Bobby wrapped up for Ashleigh.
‘Oh, bae, I love it!’ She threw her arms around him. A second later, he heard the click of her camera phone, and knew the moment would be online within minutes. When your man knows exactly how to make you happy . . .
Now, the air is clear and fresh, the deck glistening with frost. Bobby puts a steadying arm on Dee’s elbow as her stick slips on the wood.
‘Don’t you worry about me, dear,’ she tells him. ‘I’m tough as old boots.’ She’s carrying a proper camera. Discounting the paps, Bobby can’t remember the last time he saw one – it’s practically vintage. He poses for her, a cheesy circus strongman pose which makes her laugh.
‘Now mine, bae.’ Ashleigh’s in the fur coat Bobby gave her for her birthday. It’s fake, of course, although it cost as much as a real one. She’s just spent an hour doing her hair, so Bobby knows there’s no chance of getting her in the water.
‘Merry Christmas!’ Clemmie’s in her wetsuit, looking as if she means business. Bobby probably looks a right dick in his festive boxers, but he never minds playing for laughs. He takes a slurp of his Bloody Mary.
‘Stand there a sec.’ Ashleigh waves her phone at him.
‘Not today, yeah?’ He puts down his glass, but she frowns.
‘With the drink. There. Lean against the railing and—’
‘Can we have one day without thinking about bloody Instagram?’
Ashleigh glares at him, then walks away. Bobby calls after her. ‘I thought you were going to film the swim?’
‘What’s the point, if we’re not going to put it online?’
Plan or no plan, Bobby isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.
The Lloyds have dressing gowns over their swimsuits. It’s the first time Bobby’s seen Rhys since Mia told him what the bastard did in October, and his jaw tightens. Yasmin’s muttering something at Rhys, who glowers. Has Yasmin found out her husband made a pass at Mia? Even the twins seem subdued – red-eyed and sullen. Something’s definitely up with the whole family.
Mia had made Bobby promise not to touch Rhys. ‘I can’t have him badmouthing me around town,’ she said. ‘I need the work.’
Bobby wanted to tell her to send her bills to him, but he knew exactly what she’d say. Mia’s no freeloader – not like Ashleigh – and he loves her even more for it.
Dee’s getting all the swimmers together. ‘Is everyone ready? Say cheese!’ Bobby sees Yasmin lean into her husband for the photo, then practically push him away the second the shutter has clicked. Maybe Bobby can keep his promise to Mia after all – it looks as if Yasmin’s got it covered.
Bobby climbs down the ladder to the pontoon between the decks. For a few seconds it’s just him and Rhys, and although Bobby’s fists are bunched tight, he’s thinking, Just leave it, Stafford. He’s not worth it. But then Rhys leans in, a sly smile on his face, and says, ‘Shame I got interrupted – she was well up for it,’ and Bobby has him by the throat before he knows what he’s doing.