‘In Surrey.’
When all the decorating’s finished. For the past month, while the house has been undergoing renovations, we’ve been based in Lambeth. Under my supervision, the plans have been drawn up for my new studio and in the meantime, while I’ve gone back to painting, Dan’s been pushing on with the future, setting up Slaters and overseeing the sale of Fosters. Our perfect life is coming together. And I couldn’t be happier.
Dad squints a little, reaches out and touches a piece on the board.
‘What’s the matter?’ Sara slurs mischievously.
‘Is this in the dictionary?’ He runs his finger across Sara’s word. ‘It’s just I’ve never heard of it.’
‘Yes, it’s in the dictionary.’
‘It is? So, what is it then? What is minge?’
‘Well that was embarrassing.’ I slip my hand into Dan’s.
Hearing your mum explain the word ‘minge’ to your dad can never be anything else. It was enough to signal the time for our departure.
‘Priceless.’ He laughs.
‘It’s not always that bad.’
He’s staring down the road, breath clouding in front of his face.
‘Are you okay?’
He nods towards the house where he spent the first ten years of his life. Tonight, it’s swathed in Christmas lights, but back then it must have been a dark place.
‘Bricks and mortar,’ he mumbles. ‘That’s all it is. Bricks and mortar.’
I link my arm into his.
‘This is hard for you. We didn’t have to come.’
‘It’s not something we can avoid. I just need to get used to it.’ He looks at me. ‘Shall we get going?’
Leaving the Mercedes outside my parents’ house, we walk through quiet streets, hand in hand, saying nothing. He needs time to compose himself, and I’m perfectly willing to let him have it. Within minutes, we reach Layla’s house. Dan hesitates at the bottom of the drive.
‘Ready?’
‘Not really. I have no idea what to say.’
Staring at the curtained windows, he trails into silence, and I understand. He’s about to meet Sophie for the first time in years, and even though the ice has been thoroughly broken with Layla, this is another huge step.
‘The big talk can come later, if it ever comes at all.’ I squeeze his hand. ‘This is where small talk comes in handy. Exchange a few pleasantries, ask about the kids, that sort of thing. Just get comfortable.’
‘Small talk,’ he grimaces. ‘Good job I’ve had some practice.’
We move to the front door. I ring the bell. Dan lets go of my hand and stands back. It’s not long before Layla appears, her face expectant, bright with excitement.
‘I’ve brought you a present.’ I encourage Dan forwards.
‘Happy Christmas,’ she beams, welcoming us into the hall with a hug. ‘We’re all in there.’
We’re quickly guided through to the lounge. With a Christmas tree dominating one corner, the room hardly seems big enough for all of us. Three children are squeezed together on the settee: Layla’s two boys and a girl, obviously Sophie’s daughter. They’re too busy watching a film to notice anything else. A man hovers by a buffet laid out on the dining table. He helps himself to a slice of pork pie, and nods at us. Layla’s husband, I decide. And sitting in an armchair, a woman in her early thirties, a little gaunt, wearing a headscarf, but the similarity is unmistakable. This must be Sophie. Her eyes light up as soon as Dan enters the room.
‘So, children,’ Layla announces. ‘Here’s your Uncle Dan. And he’s brought Auntie Maya to see you.’
The children look up in unison, and then go back to the film.
‘They’re just watching Frozen,’ she explains. ‘You know what kids are like.’
‘Not yet,’ Dan smiles.
The youngest boy slides off the settee, fetches a piece of paper and hands it to him.
‘I made this.’
Dan takes it, uncertainly.
‘A Christmas card?’ he asks. ‘Thank you. It’s lovely.’
‘You’re my mummy’s brother.’
‘I am.’
‘And you’re my uncle.’
‘I am.’
He stares at Dan for a few seconds more, then takes his place back on the settee.
Sophie’s on her feet now, inching her way towards us. She stops at me first, touching my arm.
‘Thank you, Maya, for bringing him back.’
‘It’s my pleasure. Good to meet you, Sophie.’
‘Good to meet you too. We’re going to be great friends.’
With a smile, she turns to Dan and opens her arms. And without a word, he steps into them, leaning down and letting her kiss him on the cheek.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers. ‘For taking so long.’
She pulls back, holding his face in her hands.
‘Don’t be daft.’ There are tears in her eyes. ‘I understand. Now … let’s get on with the job of building those bridges, shall we?’
Chapter Twenty-Five
I’m roused by a kiss. It invades my sleep and soon becomes real. Breaking it, he pulls back and says nothing. He doesn’t need to. The look in his eyes says it all. Pure love, pure reverence, pure intimacy. Slowly, he manoeuvres himself on top of me, easing my legs apart. There’s to be no foreplay this morning. We’re getting straight into the action.
With another kiss, he presses his cock against me, entering without any resistance whatsoever. I’m already wet. With one hand under the small of my back and the other at my shoulder, he drives inwards, filling me completely before he withdraws. I run my hands over his broad shoulders, loving the power that’s arching above me, moaning softly as he drives, withdraws, adjusts his position, and drives again. I’m super-sensitive down below, every single move keenly felt. Flutters quickly become ripples. Undulating through my muscles, they swell, transforming themselves into waves of sheer pleasure that ebb and flow through my vagina. Sometimes kissing me, sometimes holding eye contact, he keeps up the action, maintaining a gentle but relentless rhythm, and
