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‘What the hell was that?’ he muttered, running a hand through his hair. The hand that had just held Isla’s.
‘That’s Maisie going to the loo. She’s like a herd of elephants in the middle of the night.’
‘She sure is noisy. Anyway’ – Ben shrugged – ‘we’d better go, don’t you think?’
‘Yeah, sure, you head off. Though I’ll wait for a minute before I come up. I don’t want Maisie leaping to any wrong conclusions.’
She smiled to show she was joking, but Ben had already murmured ‘goodnight’ and disappeared into the gloom of the hall. His glass of water sat forgotten on the worktop.
A few minutes later, once Maisie was safely back in her bedroom, Isla moved up the stairs like a ghost and slid into her warm bed.
‘All right?’ grunted Paul, turning his back to her.
‘Fine,’ said Isla quietly, pulling the duvet up to her chin.
She lay on her side and looked at her ruined dress, hanging on the wardrobe door. A shaft of moonlight had crept through a chink in the curtains and the wide smears of grease staining the dress fabric looked almost translucent. Isla rolled onto her back and stared for a while at the ceiling, sleep still eluding her. Her mind was whirling with memories of the past – and memories more recent. She could almost feel the warmth of Ben’s skin against hers.
Isla must have slept eventually because it was gone eight o’clock when she opened her eyes. Paul was clattering around the bedroom, getting dressed. He’d half-pulled the curtains and, in the pale light of dawn, the curry stains on her mum’s dress looked even worse.
Isla groaned and turned over. Then she remembered her early hours meeting with Ben in the kitchen and groaned again. He’d held onto her hand and had bent his head towards her, as if… Isla pushed herself up onto her pillows. She was too imaginative for her own good. Ben had simply grabbed her hand to stop her from falling, and had probably bent his head to see if she was ever going to let his hand go. What had happened in the kitchen in the early hours felt like a dream, and dreams faded, just as her dreams of travelling had melted away.
‘Paul,’ she said, brushing hair from her face. ‘Can I ask you something?’
Paul, who was sitting on the bed, put his sock on before answering. ‘Yes. As long as it’s nothing daft, sweetheart.’
Isla wasn’t sure what would constitute ‘daft’ in Paul’s eyes, so she ploughed on. ‘Just a thought, but when things are settled with the house, and Caitlin and Maisie are back in London, why don’t we go away somewhere?’
‘Away?’ Paul frowned as he pushed a foot into his second sock.
‘Just for a week or two. We could both do with a break and it would be great to find some sunshine.’
‘And how far would we have to go to find that at this time of year?’
‘Not too far. The Canary Islands, maybe – Tenerife or Lanzarote?’
‘Isla.’ Paul shuffled along the bed, closer to her. ‘It’ll be sunny here, soon enough. And you know that I can’t tolerate heat, plus I dislike Spanish food. All that tapas. I don’t want small plates of snacks. I want a decent meal.’
‘It doesn’t have to be Spain. We could maybe go to Florida or even Dubai for a break. People fly there all the time for holidays.’
Paul shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Don’t you want an adventure? To see new sights and meet new people?’
‘There’s quite enough to see around here and I’m meeting new people all the time at work.’
‘Are you phobic about flying?’
Paul got to his feet. ‘I’m perfectly fine with flying. I’ve flown in the past but I didn’t enjoy it. All that hanging around at the airport and being herded around like sheep. And for what? Sunburn, dreadful food, and stomach upsets.’
‘OK.’ Isla took a deep breath. ‘I get that you don’t like travelling so maybe I could go away for a week on my own, sometime.’ Paul had begun to scowl. ‘Or maybe I could go with Caitlin.’
‘Caitlin who ignored you for years?’
Isla winced. ‘She did. You’re right. But we do seem to be getting on better these days, on and off.’
‘That’s only because she’s trying to persuade you to sell this house.’
‘That’s a little harsh.’
