The grin disappears pronto as he starts undressing me. Oh God, I pray, as he unbuttons my cardigan. Please let my bra not be too old, please let it not be too grey, and I have to admit I do lose the passion of the moment as I furiously try to remember which bra I put on this morning, and when was the last time it had been washed.
Two minutes later I breathe a sigh of relief as James switches off the main lights, a soft glow coming from the small lamp on what is obviously his – right – side of the bed, and I make a mental note to stick to the shadows on the left.
And then I don’t have to think any more, because what has felt like a film, suddenly starts to feel very real indeed, and I close my eyes, wrap myself around James and…
… beautiful, tender, loving, warm, comfortable… shall I go on? How could I have forgotten? How could I have lived without this? How could I have run away from this for so many years, when it isn’t scary at all, it’s absolutely right, and lovely.
It’s so lovely that just after James has entered me (condom-encased, of course), just after he’s whispered, ‘Is this okay?’, just as he’s starting to move inside me, I start to cry. Not like that time in James’s office. Crying this time with pleasure. With forgotten memories. With sheer and utter bliss, and despite the tears I’m smiling, and although James is concerned, I reassure him and soon there’s nothing left to say.
… And, let’s just say that Si was right, it is exactly like riding a bicycle, and everything I thought I’d forgotten comes back in a flash, and it feels wonderful.
Better than wonderful. Perfect.
I have to get up three times in the night to pee, which is hardly surprising considering the amount of champagne I had to drink, but every time I come back into the bedroom to see James lying there, the duvet thrown back from his naked body, I can’t help but grin to myself again.
And every time I climb back into bed, rolling over to my side, away from him so he isn’t hit with the full force of morning mouth, he reaches over for my hand and gives it a squeeze, falling asleep again, holding my hand.
James sleeps like a log. I listen to his breathing and roll over to watch him when I am quite sure he is asleep, because sleep is evidently not on the agenda for me tonight, not after this.
But eventually I seem to drop off for a short while, and I swear, if it is at all possible to fall asleep smiling, then that is what I do, and as I give in to sleep I think that it’s not that I had forgotten how lovely sex could be, it’s that it never was this lovely before.
I wake up before James the next morning. I creep out of bed and pull on my clothes, making my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth as best I can using my finger, and leave before he wakes up.
And it doesn’t feel quite the same in the morning. In the cold light of day I’m frightened. No. Make that terrified. I’m terrified because I have now put myself in the position of potentially being hurt, and that is something I have managed to successfully avoid for years.
And James could really hurt me, I think, coming back out of the bathroom and sneaking a final gaze at him before he wakes up, before I leave, avoiding the inevitable awkwardness of the morning after. Look at him lying there, his hair even more tousled than usual, his lips puffy with sleep, so vulnerable and soft and gorgeous, I could almost squeeze the life out of him.
He opens his eyes. I jump slightly, and he smiles sleepily, holding out his hand, and I wasn’t expecting this. I walk over and perch on the edge of the bed, and he pulls me down for a kiss, while I thank God I had the presence of mind to get up and swallow toothpaste.
‘Where are you going?’ he says.
‘Home.’ I start to get up. ‘So much to do.’
He hoists himself up on the pillows and rubs his eyes, looking so much like a little boy I want to just take him in my arms, but of course I can’t do that. I have to leave.
‘Cath,’ he says, holding my hand and looking deeply into my eyes. ‘Don’t leave. Don’t put the barriers up again, you don’t need to, not with me, and not after last night.’
I falter, not knowing what to say, and he can see there’s a chink of hope.
‘Tell you what. I’ll get up and we can go out, get the papers and have breakfast together. And before you say no I bet you didn’t have any plans today anyway.’
‘Oh, okay,’ I finally grumble, standing up and walking out of the room to avoid having to see him naked in the cold light of day, because I’m sure I would just shrivel with embarrassment, and more to avoid him seeing the huge grin that has just lit up my face. ‘I’ll wait downstairs.’
Chapter thirty
Si and I stop at the corner shop en route to Lucy’s to pick up some wine, even though it’s hardly necessary, with their well-stocked wine cupboard, and a couple of giant bars of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk, because there’s no better sustenance for a Saturday night in than chocolate, and then we roll up at Lucy’s.
I haven’t said anything about James. Ridiculous as this may sound, this is my secret right now, and I want to keep it precious and safe, at least until I know it’s not just a quick fling.
‘Who is it?’ Max’s voice wafts through the door, loud and clear. I look at Si, but he just grins and keeps quiet, so I give it a whirl.
‘Hello, Max. It’s Auntie Cath and Uncle Si. Are you going to be a good boy and open the door?’
There’s silence from the other side, and I can tell that Si is loving every second of this. I make a face at him and eventually he leans down and says, ‘Max?’
A pause, then, ‘Yes?’
‘It’s Uncle Si. Do you want to see what I’ve got for you?’
Another pause. ‘Yes.’
‘You can’t see it if you won’t open the door, can you?’
Brilliant. Si and I stand on the doorstep listening to Max’s thought process, and then, when Max decides that in fact Si’s plan is not flawed after all, the door slowly opens, and we look down into Max’s expectant face.
‘Okay, Max.’ Si crouches down and looks him in the eye. ‘Which would you prefer? A fire engine or… a piece of chocolate?’
Max stops to think. ‘A fire engine,’ he says eventually, as I start to laugh.
‘Oh well. Chocolate will just have to do.’ Si shrugs and hands him a small Dairy Milk, which doesn’t seem to go down at all badly, and makes a change from Si’s most recent presents for Max, which include a sailor, a policeman and an Indian warrior. Although Si would not dream of saying anything to Josh for fear of compromising his son’s impending masculinity, Si is aiming to keep going until Max has the entire set of the Village People.
‘Cath! Si! I’m in the kitchen!’
‘There’s a surprise,’ Si laughs, and we walk down the corridor, taking off our coats as Lucy appears in the doorway.
‘Quick, quick, big gossip! Huge!’ She hurries us into the kitchen, where bowls of guacamole are already sitting on the table, with nachos waiting to be dipped in and a bottle of wine.
‘You’ve got to sit down because you’re never going to believe this!’ Lucy is bursting, bursting to tell us something, and I’m assuming it’s good news, because if she’d found out about Josh there’s no way she’d have this mischievous look on her face.
‘Pour some wine, quick. Okay. Listen. I can’t believe this myself. This weekend is the weekend that, as you know, Ingrid’s away with the mystery lover.’
‘Yes?’ Si and I both say simultaneously.
‘Do you want the short version or the long version?’
‘Short,’ I say, as Si says, ‘Long.’
‘Oh God. Well, the middle version is that Ingrid had said the mystery lover was picking her up this evening and I was supposed to be at work and we’d got Laura to babysit, but I got home earlier than I’d planned, and you’re never going to believe what I walked in on…’