A beam of sunlight shines through the glass on the front door, blinding us both for a moment.
‘Let’s go out,’ I say suddenly.
‘Out?’ Sam asks. ‘You’ve only just got in.’
‘It’s such a beautiful evening. I saw bluebells in the park when we drove past. They never last long, if we don’t see them now, we might miss them. Let’s go – family outing.’
Sam looks torn. ‘That’s a nice idea, but the kitchen’s a mess, Amy’s tired, I need to get her bedding out of the dryer before—’
‘Sam. Twenty minutes. Come on.’ I do a little dance, jigging my thumbs from side to side.
His eyes crinkle in a genuine smile. It feels like a triumph. ‘Kids, eat up, Mummy says we’re going on a family outing.’
At the park, I push Amy in her buggy while Felix shows me his attempt at a wheelie （which isn’t a wheelie at all, but Sam and I cheer him on as though he’s done something worthy of Cirque du Soleil）。 In one corner of the park, the grass has been left to grow wild, a haven for bees. A carpet of bluebells spreads out beneath a copse of trees. The evening sun shines through the branches, dappled light landing on the bluebells’ stems which tilt and sway in the gentle breeze. The sweet floral smell transports me to childhood picnics, picking wildflowers for Mum’s kitchen table, driving miles to walk in Dad’s favourite wood, because the bluebells only bloom for a few short weeks.
Sam gets Amy out and lifts her onto his shoulders, making her squeal in delight as he spins her around and around. Felix yells ‘Me! Me!’， so Sam puts Amy back in her buggy, then starts to spin Felix, who screams, ‘Faster, faster!’
When Sam finally puts him down, bent double and out of breath, Felix cries, ‘Again, again.’
‘It looks like your father’s getting too old to do that,’ I say, with a sly smile. ‘Look, poor thing’s exhausted.’
‘Is that your way of saying you want a go?’ Sam asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.
‘No.’ I grin, but then he starts towards me at a pace, and I turn to run, laughing as Sam chases me across the park. He’s too fast for me, and soon wraps me in a bear hug before we both tumble to the ground.
‘Who’s too old?’ he asks, lying on top of me, pinning my hands above my head.
‘Not you, not you,’ I say, laughing, wriggling beneath him. He stops wrestling with me, looks down into my eyes and I’m suddenly aware of every point where his body is pressed into mine, the glint of intent in his eyes, the effortless way he is pinning my arms with just one hand. ‘Hmm.’ Did I just moan? Oh jeez, we’re in public, the kids are right there. He bites his lip, amused, then releases my arms. I think he might have noticed the moan.
‘This was a great idea, Luce,’ he says, his voice thick with warmth. ‘I’m glad you suggested it.’ Before he’s done speaking, Felix catches up with us and launches himself onto Sam, crying, ‘Family pile!’ I feel myself blush as I quickly try to dispel the un-PG visuals of Sam and me rolling naked through the bluebells that’s just pushed its way into my mind.
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.’