Million Love Songs(65)

‘Joe’s agreed that I can meet his kids,’ I tell Charlie. ‘I’m pleased, but it’s a bit scary too.’

‘Kids are not just for Christmas, they’re for life.’

‘What do you think we should do? Where do you take a teenage boy and girl so that they’re not bored out of their heads?’

‘Nando’s,’ is Charlie’s choice.

‘Noooo. That’s really dull. There must be some sort of activity they’d like.’

She shrugs. ‘Shopping?’

‘I thought about wakeboarding or that iFly skydiving thing in the city centre.’

‘Sounds hideous.’ Charlie wrinkles her nose.

‘What about crazy golf or climbing?’ Charlie looks horrified that I could even think such a thing. ‘I want them to see me as a fun-loving, adventurous person.’

‘Why?’

‘Because their dad is becoming an important person in my life.’

‘If I were you, I’d stay clear of the children altogether. Just shag their dad whenever you get a chance.’

‘But that’s sort of the point. Unless I integrate with the family as a whole I don’t even get the opportunity to do that. I don’t want to be nothing more than a booty call for him.’

‘You don’t seem to mind that when it’s Shagger Soames.’

‘I haven’t seen him for weeks,’ I remind her. ‘He’s not been in the Butcher’s Arms much lately either.’

‘Exhausted by his handful of shifts, he’s probably off swanning round the Med on a yacht to recover while dating a supermodel or something.’

I sigh and don’t really know why. Probably because Charlie might be right.

‘I’d like to have a proper relationship with Joe and if that means taking on his children, then I’m prepared to do it.’

‘Madness.’

I don’t like to point out that we’re spending our afternoon sitting in a hotel just waiting for the outside chance of catching sight of an unattainable man. I know that Charlie is terrified of commitment and for good reason, but it would actually be less hard work to have a real boyfriend. It would take a braver woman than me to tell her that though.

Then, as some of the ladies are thinking of moving on, a couple of seriously slick limousines pull up at the front of the hotel. And that’s our cue. No one needs even to speak. As one, we’re out of that reception like greyhounds out of a trap. The minute we hit the pavement, Take That appear from a side entrance.

‘Garrrrrreeeeee!’ Charlie screams in my ear. He turns and smiles. She clicks her phone camera. Got him!

Security guards hustle them towards the waiting limos. We’re on them, crushing together in a pack. The boys hold out their hands and high-five the nearest women, sending them into fevered ecstasy. With practised ease, they’re in their cars in a flash and, before the doors are barely shut, they speed off with us in hot pursuit, tottering along the pavement in our heels after them.

‘Did you see that?’ Charlie turns to me. ‘Did you flipping see that?’ She jumps up and down and I jump up and down with her. That was actually bloody awesome!

‘I get this,’ I tell her. ‘I totally get it.’

Charlie and I high-five each other. ‘I think you can officially call yourself a Thatter now.’

I allow myself a giddy little giggle. ‘Cool.’

Then arm-in-arm we Thatters go back to the bar, high on adrenaline, flushed with the thrill of the chase, bubbling with excitement and chattering like a flock of colourful birds. We are true fans, the unshakeable. We came, we saw, we got our photos for social media. And even the fact that someone has cleared away about a hundred and eighty quid’s worth of our cocktails cannot quell our spirits.





Chapter Fifty-Four





Joe’s kids don’t want to go wakeboarding. They don’t want to go to iFly and pretend they’re skydiving either. Arial Extreme Adventure is ruled out as being naff too. Cinema – nothing they both want to see. Big Rock Climbing – lame. Ice-skating at Planet Ice – get real. Bounce trampolining – so last year. Hollywood Bowling – the shoes smell. Indoor skiing at the Snozone – too cold. Mr Mulligan’s Pirate Crazy Golf. Woburn Safari Park. Daytona karting. No, no, no.

We go to Nando’s.





Chapter Fifty-Five





I smile brightly as the kids sit opposite me scowling. Both Joe and I are trying too hard to be jolly and it’s excruciating.

We know it’s excruciating. They know it’s excruciating.

Daisy is the picture of pre-teen resentment, whereas Tom clearly thinks he’s too cool to be wasting his time on me. It’s a heady combination and I’m wilting in the face of it.

‘What do you fancy to eat, kids?’ Joe asks, rubbing his hands together in an over-enthusiastic manner. ‘I’m starving.’

Daisy exudes ennui. ‘I don’t think I like chicken any more.’

‘They have other things, Dais,’ Joe says. ‘What about a veggie burger?’

‘I don’t like vegetables any more,’ she sighs.

He tries his other offspring to see if he has better luck. He doesn’t. ‘Tom? Have you decided?’