“Richard,” I say at last. “You know the phrase ‘Too little, too late’? Well, you’re more like ‘Too much, too late.’ Flying halfway across the world. Rushing to the airport. Making romantic speeches all over the place. Why didn’t you do any of this before?”
Richard doesn’t answer the question but stares at me glumly. “You think I’m too late?”
That’s a question I don’t want to answer.
“It’s just an expression,” I say after a pause. “Come on.” I pat him reassuringly on the shoulder. “We’re boarding.”
About half an hour into the flight, Richard comes up to the front, where Noah and I are sitting in a row of three in club class. I haul Noah onto my lap and Richard slides in next to me.
“How tall would you say this Ben is?” he says with no preamble.
“Don’t know. I’ve never met him.”
“But you’ve seen pictures. Would you say … five eight? Five nine?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’d say five nine. Definitely shorter than me,” Richard adds, with a grim satisfaction.
“Well, that’s not hard,” I point out. Richard is at least six foot two.
“Never thought Lottie would go for a short-arse.”
I have no reply to make to this, so I roll my eyes and carry on reading the airline magazine.
“I looked him up.” Richard mashes an airsick bag between his fingers. “He’s a multimillionaire. Owns a paper company.”
“Mmm. I know.”
“I tried to find out if he’s got a private jet. It didn’t say. Expect he has.”
“Richard, stop torturing yourself.” I finally turn to him. “It’s not about private jets. Or height. There’s no point comparing yourself to him.”
Richard looks at me for a few silent seconds. Then, as though I hadn’t even spoken, he says, “Have you seen his house? They used it for Highton Hall. He’s a multimillionaire and he’s got a stately home.” He scowls. “Bastard.”
“Richard—”
“But he’s pretty puny, don’t you think?” He’s tearing the airsick bag into strips. “Never thought Lottie would go for someone so puny.”
“Richard, stop it!” I exclaim in exasperation. If he’s going to go on like this the whole journey, I’ll go mad.
“Is this our special guest?” A sugary voice interrupts us, and we look up to see an air hostess with a French plait, bearing down on us with a wide smile. She’s holding a teddy bear, an airline wallet, some lollipops, and a huge box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates. “Cheryl told us all about you,” she addresses Noah brightly. “I’ve got some special gifts for you here.”
“Cool! Thank you!” Noah grabs the presents before I can stop him and gasps, “Mummy, look! A big box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates! You can get them!”
“Thanks,” I say awkwardly. “That’s really unnecessary.”
“It’s the least we can do!” the air hostess assures me. “And is this the famous uncle?” She bats her eyelashes at Richard, who stares back with a blank frown.
“My uncle can speak three languages,” says Noah proudly. “Uncle Richard, talk Japanese!”
“A surgeon and a linguist?” The air hostess opens her eyes wide, and I dig my fingers into Richard’s hand before he can protest. I don’t want Noah mortified in public.
“That’s right!” I say quickly. “He’s a very talented man. Thanks so much.” I smile at the air hostess fixedly till she leaves, after a final pat on the head for Noah.
“Fliss, what the hell’s going on?” expostulates Richard in an undertone as soon as she’s walked away.
“Can I have a credit card to put in my wallet?” asks Noah, examining it. “Can I have an AmEx? Can I have points?”
Oh God. He knows about AmEx points at the age of seven? This is mortifying. Almost as bad as when we checked in to a hotel in Rome and, by the time I’d found change for a tip, Noah had already asked to see a different room.
I get out my iPod and hand it to Noah, who whoops with delight and slots the earphones into his ears. Then I lean toward Richard and lower my voice.
“Noah told some made-up story to the ground staff.” I bite my lip, feeling a sudden relief at sharing my worries. “Richard, he’s turned into a complete fantasist. He does it at school. He told one teacher he’d had a heart transplant and another he had a surrogate baby sister.”
“What?” Richard’s face drops.
“I know.”
“Where did he get those kind of ideas, anyway? A surrogate baby sister, for God’s sake?”
“Off a DVD they were playing in the special-needs department,” I say wryly.
“Right.” Richard digests this. “So what story did he tell this lot?” He gestures at the air hostess.
“No idea. Apart from the fact that you play a starring role as a surgeon.” I meet his eye and we suddenly both snort with laughter.
“It’s not funny.” Richard shakes his head, biting his lip.
“It’s awful.”
“Poor little guy.” Richard ruffles Noah’s head, and he looks up briefly from his iPod trance, a beatific smile on his face. “Do they think he’s doing it because of the divorce?”
My residual laughter melts away. “Probably,” I say lightly. “Or, you know, the evil career mother.”
Richard winces. “Sorry.” He pauses. “How’s that all going, anyway? Have you signed the settlement yet?”
I open my mouth to answer honestly—then stop myself. I’ve bored Richard many times over dinner about Daniel. I can see he’s bracing himself for the rant. Why did I never notice people bracing themselves before?
“Oh, fine.” I give him my new saccharine smile. “All good! Let’s not talk about it.”
“Right.” Richard looks taken aback. “Great! So … any new men on the horizon?” His voice suddenly seems to have doubled in volume, and I flinch. Before I can stop myself, I glance at Lorcan, who is sitting by the opposite window, engrossed in his laptop, and thankfully didn’t seem to hear.
“No,” I say. “Nothing. No one.”
I’m telling myself furiously not to look at Lorcan, not to even think about Lorcan. But it’s like telling yourself not to think about a rabbit. Before I can stop them, my eyes have darted to him again. This time, Richard follows my gaze.
“What?” He peers at me in astonishment. “Him?”
“Shhh.”
“Him?”
“No! I mean … yes.” I feel flustered. “Once.”
“Him?” Richard sounds mortally offended. “But he’s on the other side!”
“There aren’t sides.”
Richard is surveying Lorcan with narrowed, suspicious eyes. After a moment, Lorcan looks up. He seems startled to see us both gazing at him. My whole body floods with heat and I abruptly turn away.
“Stop it!” I hiss. “Don’t look at him!”
“You were looking at him too,” points out Richard.
“Only because you were!”
“Fliss, you seem hassled.”
“I’m not hassled,” I say with dignity. “I’m simply trying to be an adult in an adult situation— You’re looking at him again!” I jab at his arm. “Stop!”
“Who is he, exactly?”
“Ben’s oldest friend. A lawyer. Works at his company.” I shrug.
“So … is it a thing?”
“No. It’s not a thing. We just hooked up and then …”
“You unhooked.”
“Exactly.”
“He looks like a bundle of laughs,” says Richard, still surveying Lorcan critically. “I’m being sarcastic,” he adds after a pause.
“Yup.” I nod. “Got that.”
Lorcan looks up again and raises his eyebrows. The next minute he’s unbuckling his seat belt and coming over to where we’re sitting.
“Great,” I murmur. “Thanks, Richard. Hello.” I smile sweetly up at Lorcan. “Enjoying the flight?”