I brushed my lips across Sophie's, then lifted my face and kissed her on the forehead. I pecked her on the cheek and on her neck, and reached behind my head to find her hands and unlink her fingers.
'This isn't what I want, Sophie,' I told her, shaking my head. 'I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't.'
She looked up into my face, bewildered and hurt. 'Why not? Don't you love me?'
'Of course I love you. I love you more than life, but I don't want to start something we — I — couldn't stop.'
'I don't understand.'
'Neither do I.' The kettle came to the boil and I broke away, turning my back, grateful for the interruption, not wanting to face her. I spooned instant coffee into mugs, poured on the water, added milk and stirred them for longer than necessary. 'Let's sit where it's more comfortable,' I said, leading the way into the front room.
We sat on the settee, Sophie at one end, me at the other. Her head was bowed and I was aware that I'd probably just paid her the biggest humiliation in the repertoire. She was embarrassed and confused. This was not the way it was meant to happen. I shuffled sideways until I was next to her and placed my arm across her shoulders. She snuggled closer, her head on my shoulder.
'I'm tremendously flattered, Sophie,' I told her, my voice a hoarse whisper. 'I know it's the greatest compliment you could pay me and that it wasn't something you'd decided lightly, and I'll never forget it. But it would spoil everything, don't you see? Apart from us, I'd be betraying your parents. OK, I could possibly cope with that. Then there's the fact that I'm your godfather, and that's supposed to give me responsibilities, but I could live with that, too. But it would spoil things between us — you and me — and I'd find that unbearable. You'd turn against me, sometime in the future, when you were in a different frame of mind and whatever it was that brought you here' was forgotten. And for what? One night in bed together? We mean more than that to each other, don't we?'
'I'm sorry.'
'Nothing to be sorry about, nothing at all, but maybe you should tell me what's behind it all, why you want to snog with old Uncle Charlie when there's all these handsome young bloods at Cambridge falling over themselves to go out with you.'
'Huh!' was all she said.
We sat like that for a while, then sipped our coffee. 'Tell me about Cap Ferrat,' I said, replacing my mug on the low table.
'It was fun,' she replied, smiling.
'Thanks for the card. What's the boyfriend called?'
She bit her lip and glanced at me. 'Promise not to laugh.'
'Scout's honour.'
'He's called Digby.'
'Digby? That's a fine name.'
'You're laughing at me.'
'No I'm not, but it might raise a few eyebrows the first time your dad takes him down to the Mechanics' Institute for a Sunday lunchtime pint.'
'I won't let him go to the 'stute for a lunchtime pint.'
'You'll have to, it's a tradition. So is this one serious?'
'Yes.'
'I have to know a bit more about him before I give my approval. It's one of a godfather's duties, did you know?'
'Is it? What do you want to know?'
'Is he a good bloke? Does he deserve you?'
Sophie giggled for the first time that evening. 'He doesn't have any tattoos or body piercing, if that's what you mean.'
'And does he deserve you?'
'I think so. He's asked me to marry him.'
'Really! And what did you say?'
'I said that I'd think about it and tell him on Monday.'
'And what have you decided?'
'I'll tell him that I'd be proud to be his wife, if he'll still have me.'
I had to think about that. Eventually I said: 'I admit I'm a bit slow about these things, Sophie, but if you're going to accept Digby's proposal on Monday why did you want to spend tonight with me? I don't understand.'
She rested her head on my shoulder again and I took her hand in mine. 'Have you ever fancied Mum?' she asked with all the subtlety of a rampaging cocker spaniel.
'Erm, your mum?' I asked, hesitation colouring my reply with guilt. 'Well, er, she's an attractive woman. And she makes cracking apple pies, but unfortunately your dad found her first.' I stood up and walked over to the CD player. Livin' La Vida Loca seemed appropriate. 'What made you ask that?'
'I asked her if she fancied you and she blushed.'
'You what!'
'I asked her if she'd ever fancied you. We had a long talk before I went to uni.' The first bars of salsa invaded the room and her head nodded to the rhythm. 'Ricky Martin, I bought you this.'
'I know you did.'
'Do you play it much?'
'All the time. I thought you and your dad had a long talk.'
'Fibber. I bet this is the first time. We did, but he just said he'd come and duff up anybody who gave me aggro. You said much the same thing. Mum said that she loved Dad and wouldn't want to be married to anybody else, but she was young when she married and she'd known him all her life. Sometimes, she said, she wished she'd had a bit of a fling. Can I tell you a secret, Uncle Charles?'
'I think we're well into secret-keeping territory, Sophie.'
'Well, once, when I was young, I imagined that you and Mum had been lovers and that you were my real dad. I thought it was ever so romantic.' I heaved a big sigh and shook my head, not believing what I was hearing. 'So,' she went on, 'I asked Mum if she'd marry you if anything happened to Dad.'
'And what did your mum say?'
'She told me to mind my own business. But she was blushing as she said it.'
'I think you've been reading too many… um, Penelope Teapots.'
'Who's Penelope Teapot?'
'No idea.' I took her hand in mine again. 'Is that what this was supposed to be, Sophie? A bit of a fling?'
'Are you mad at me?'
'No, of course not. I'm flattered, but I'm still mystified, when you have all those handsome young fellows at your beck and call.'
She leaned on me again and I embraced her, my face in her hair, breathing in that old familiar perfume. After a while she said: 'Digby's not my first boyfriend, Uncle Charles.'
'Good. There you are, then. You've had your fling.'
'I went out with a boy from Bristol when I was in my first year. Then I started going out with Digby.'
'So you've known him a long time. What — two years?'
'No, nearly a year. I wish you still knew Annabelle. I could talktoAnnabelle.'
'Annabelle's long gone, I'm afraid.' Except it was her perfume Sophie was wearing and it felt like only yesterday that I'd almost drowned in its headiness. 'Can't you talk to your mum?'
'Not about this.'
'I don't know what to say.'
'Do men always enjoy sex, Uncle Charles?'
'Well, um, usually,' I mumbled, taken aback. Sophie inherited her dad's forthrightness as well as his height. 'Not always, but usually.' Ricky Martin was urging someone to be careful with my heart in case you break it. 'Is… is that what the problem is?' I ventured, and I felt her nod her head against my shoulder.
I sat in silence for several minutes, practising opening lines and abandoning them. It was Sophie herself who broke the ice. 'I enjoy it, but…' That's all she said.
'But it's not worth all the fuss,' I suggested, and felt her nod again. 'So you thought it might be different with
