If We're Not Married by Thirty

by Anna Bell

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, as I raise my eyebrow at him. ‘I couldn’t resist.’

  ‘Those two. If they knew you were here.’

  ‘I know, they’d be ringing us every five minutes for a status report,’ he says, laughing.

  ‘Although, a status report might be quite handy.’

  He looks at me and then smiles. ‘How about, we hooked up last night and we are going to do it again in a minute?’

  ‘Are we now?’ I say, quivering with excitement.

  ‘Yep. I think I did something last night that you liked a lot.’

  ‘I think you did.’

  I slip off my coat and I can’t help but be flattered by Danny’s little whistle as he sees me in just his T-shirt and my boots.

  ‘And then, afterwards, are we going out to explore the area?’ I ask.

  ‘Of course; I’ll show you all the highlights. We’ve still got three days before I head to Ben’s in Barcelona, plenty of time to see everything.’

  It hits me square in the chest. Three days.

  ‘Wow, that suddenly doesn’t feel like a very long time,’ I say, trying not to think about what’s going to happen when he leaves.

  ‘But imagine what we can do in that time,’ he says, slipping his hands around my back. He bends down and kisses me gently.

  I guess he’s right, and my mind goes into overdrive imagining.

  Chapter Nine

  I bloody hate New Year’s Eve – all that pressure to make the perfect plans. Are you going to watch the ball drop in Times Square? I’ve never understood what the ball actually is but I bet it’ll be amazing just like the rest of your life there if your Facebook photos are anything to go by! I wish I’d taken you up on your offer to come over for it – I’m not sure a night out at Tiger, Tiger in Portsmouth is going to be the same . . .

  Email; Lydia to Danny, December 2013

  ‘Fucking hell, Lydia. Are you trying to kill me?’ asks Danny as he rolls over to look at me and props himself up on his elbow.

  We’ve barely got out of bed in the past twenty-four hours and if I thought my muscles were in trouble yesterday, I was, quite literally, sorely mistaken.

  ‘I’m thinking the same thing about you. I’ve been on some pretty gruelling hiking holidays, but I think this is the only time I’ve been in danger of walking home bow-legged. I mean, seriously. How could it even be that good?’

  I nuzzle into the crook of his elbow and I fit perfectly. He drapes his hand over my stomach, swirling his finger around my belly button.

  In the past I would have felt self-conscious lying here naked and would have pulled the sheet up around me, covering my modesty, or at the very least my bingo wings, but I feel completely at ease. Danny has explored every inch of my body over the last thirty-six hours, so there seems little point in covering up now.

  ‘So do you want to head out or shall I do another run to the supermarket for lunch?’

  I realise I’m starving and I have no idea what time of day it is. There’s light poking through the edges of the shutters, which means it’s day time, but I don’t even know if it’s morning or afternoon. It’s all been a bit of a delicious blur of sex and sleep.

  Unsurprisingly, we didn’t make it out to see the sights yesterday. The only glimpse of the sea I’ve had since I got here was from the roof terrace yesterday morning. Danny did a quick run to the supermarket and bought the basics, and he went and got a takeaway pizza for tea. I guess I should be grateful that Danny isn’t staying here for the whole week as I worry I’d be going home on a plane having only seen the inside of the apartment.

  ‘I don’t know if I can let you out of the bed again.’

  ‘Oh really,’ he says as he starts to climb over me so that his arms are propping him up above me. ‘It’s a pity we’ve only got two beers left. And no food.’

  ‘Well, perhaps I can let you out, for good behaviour,’ I say.

  ‘What about if I’m bad?’ he says, with a wink. He slides his hand underneath me and pulls me up towards him.

  ‘How bad?’ I purr in his ear.

  He whips me round and I get the impression I’m about to find out.

  *

  We finally surface at just before midday. After a (not so) quick shower, we manage to put clothes on and keep them on. We have the most ridiculous grins plastered on our faces, and no matter how hard we try we don’t seem to be able to wipe them off.

  ‘So, what do you fancy doing. Lunch out? Picnic on the beach? Picnic in bed?’

  ‘Down, boy. We cannot seriously do it again. I’m pretty sure that it should be anatomically impossible to have had this much sex. Isn’t it? Do you think there’s a finite number of times you can do it in a day?’

  ‘I don’t know, but we could test it, if you like?’ he says, looking ever hopeful.

  I give him a playful shove.

  ‘No picnics in bed. Come on, let’s get out of this apartment and get some food. I am ravenous and you are looking good enough to eat right now.’

  He’s still looking hopeful but I pull him out of the apartment and down the steps.

  ‘Seriously, food. And maybe drink. Is it too early to have sangria? I love sangria.’

  ‘Never too early when you’re on holiday,’ he says. We walk down the hill and he puts his hand into mine and I can’t help but smile. ‘Hmm, let’s go to Los Toros, it’s pretty hard to beat.’

  ‘Um, or we could try somewhere else. I’m only here for a few days and I’m sure there must be loads of restaurants I should try.’

  It might have been days ago, but the humiliation of my not-a-real-date experience is still a fresh memory.

  ‘Yeah, but believe me, none are as good, or as close,’ he says, pointing to it.

  I’m having slight palpitations. What if Steve or Liza tell Danny what happened? I don’t want Danny to think that I was trawling around for men on Thursday night in some desperate bid to get some action.

  ‘We could—’ but before I can finish my sentence Danny has pushed open the door and I can hear the sound of Steve’s voice.

  I take the deepest breath ever and walk in, trying to keep my head as high as I can.

  ‘Ah, Lydia, back for more? Can’t resist, huh?’ he says with a cheeky wink.

  Danny pulls me in to him and gives me a quick squeeze as if the thirty seconds I was away from him was hours.

  Steve looks taken aback as he looks between us. He stutters for a second and his face wrinkles in confusion.

  ‘Oh, so you two are together, are you?’ He places his hands on his hips before dropping them again.

  ‘We certainly are,’ says Danny, grinning and squeezing me tighter.

  ‘Lydia arrived early, did she?’ asks Steve, raising an eyebrow. He’s clearly wary about what’s going on.

  ‘Actually, I didn’t know Danny was coming at all. It wasn’t planned,’ I say, pitching in.

  ‘Oh, right,’ he says. ‘Like that, was it? Whilst the cat’s away,’ he mutters under his breath.

  ‘No,’ I say, getting flustered. ‘Danny and I weren’t together. I mean, we just got together on Thursday night – after I was here.’

  ‘Busy Thursday,’ he says, with a playful lilt to his voice. He seems to have relaxed now that he’s realised I didn’t go on what I thought was a date with him when I had a boyfriend.

  ‘We’ve known each other for years,’ I say, hoping it makes it sound better. ‘Since we were kids.’

  ‘Used to fumble around behind the bike sheds?’ he says with a cheeky smile, the old Steve starting to resurface.

  I feel my cheeks blushing as he leads us over to a table.

  ‘We didn’t go to the same school,’ says Danny as he looks at me with the expression I’ve come to know means only one thing. ‘But who knows, if we had . . .’

  I’m about to reply when Liza walks up.

  ‘Dan, it’s so good to see you,’ she says, wrapping him up in a big hug. She lets go of him and comes towards me, holds my hands an
d kisses me on both cheeks.

  ‘Dan is with Lydia,’ says Steve, ‘like with her.’

  Liza drops my hands like a hot potato and gives me a scornful look.

  ‘To think I gave you extra albondingas,’ she says pouting.

  ‘It’s not what you think. Danny and I aren’t really together, together,’ I say, trying to ignore the hurt look in his eyes. ‘We just hooked up out here.’

  She’s looking at me sceptically.

  ‘We’ve been friends all our lives and we once had this kiss. This really magical kiss and since then we haven’t really been in the same country and single at the same time and then Danny turned up here the other night and, well, one thing led to another. And now we’re . . .’ I don’t know why I’m explaining it all to her but I can’t help myself. I want her to know that whatever is going on with Danny and me is something special.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asks Danny looking between the three of us. My cheeks are burning hot and I’m starting to sweat worse than when I was walking around the complex looking for Hazel’s apartment.

  Liza plants a smile on her face and takes Danny’s hand as she leads him over to a table. ‘Nothing,’ she says unconvincingly. ‘It’s just so good to see you; I hope you are looking out for yourself.’

  ‘Thanks, Liza,’ he says. ‘I think you mean looking after myself. Which I am.’

  Her English has been pretty faultless up until now so I’d be surprised if that was a slip rather than a dig at me.

  ‘We’re actually really hungry,’ says Danny.

  ‘Of course. Steve will take your order and I’ll go and cook. I’ll see you later on. It’s so nice to see a Whittaker back.’

  She smiles at us, without really looking at me, and heads back towards the kitchen.

  We sit at the same table that I sat at the other night and the embarrassment comes flooding back.

  ‘So, do you need some time to choose off the menu or did you want a platter?’ asks Steve as he hovers over his pad.

  ‘A platter sounds good to me, whatever I get here is always good,’ says Danny.

  ‘Yes, me too,’ I say, careful to choose my words this time.

  ‘Is that the only thing you want off the menu today?’ says Steve, wickedly. I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

  Danny gives me a look and I give him my best don’t ask face.

  ‘Let’s have some sangria,’ he says, handing the menu to Steve.

  ‘Coming right up,’ says Steve as he takes my menu and walks away.

  ‘So what was all that about?’ asks Danny.

  ‘What was all what about?’ I reply, fluttering my eyelashes as best I can.

  ‘Come on. Something was definitely up with you three. What happened here on Thursday night? I’ve never seen Liza act like that with a guest. She was so cold and Steve, well, that was weird.’

  I watch Steve preparing our pitcher at the bar. I get the impression that he’s going to be making digs all night and after that cold shoulder from Liza . . .

  ‘So, funny story,’ I say, cringing before I’ve even started to tell it. ‘I was lost when looking for the apartment and I bumped into Steve and he gave me directions. He then, well, I thought he invited me on a . . . on a . . .’ It takes me three attempts to get the word out. ‘A date.’

  Danny isn’t saying anything. His lips are pursed. Between that and the silky numbers in my case it makes it look like I was on a mission to get lucky in Spain.

  ‘It was all so embarrassing,’ I say, looking down at the table. ‘I got here and I thought I was on a date but then realised he was, of course, with Liza. It’s not like I arrived here looking for someone to go out with. I don’t want you to think that I was meeting him and then I ended up in bed with you. I really did come here to soul search; not to, you know.’

  I chance a look at Danny and he is trying hard not to laugh.

  Steve comes over and brings us the jug of sangria.

  ‘Lydia’s just been telling me about the mix-up on Thursday.’

  ‘Oh, that was funny. Can you imagine anyone paying me to take them out? I mean, me, an escort?’

  Danny’s head whips back to me.

  ‘Oh, yes, thanks, Steve. I’d left that bit of the story out. I got an even wronger end of the stick.’ I shield my head in my hand and wish for the second time when sitting in this restaurant that there was a black hole that I could sink into.

  Steve chuckles before he walks away.

  ‘And there was me thinking you getting caught singing out-of-tune Madonna in the most ginormous pair of pants was the most embarrassing thing that could have happened to you on Thursday.’

  ‘Nothing was more embarrassing than being caught in those pants.’

  We both start to giggle and Danny reaches his hands out to mine.

  ‘Only you, Lydia Stoker, would get yourself into such a muddle. I can just imagine how you would have written about that in one of your letters.’

  I smile and finally start to relax. Danny pours me a glass of sangria and I exhale deeply. I love that he isn’t weird about it or jealous in the way that Ross used to be. He would even sulk when I got a letter from Danny, despite me telling him hundreds of times that we were only friends.

  I soon find myself swaying to the gentle salsa music that’s playing in the background. I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol this morning, yet I feel giddy. I’ve never felt like this and I didn’t think it was possible outside of the pages of a Mills and Boon book.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ asks Danny.

  ‘Oh no, I’m not sharing these thoughts. I already can’t walk,’ I say, winking as I take a sip of sangria. Since when have I been this flirty?

  ‘Now, now, that’s not fair. You’re making me want to run out of the restaurant and take you back to the apartment when we’ve just ordered the food. You’re going to make me choose between meatballs and you.’

  I’m about to say something smutty about having balls in my mouth but I think better of it. The less encouragement Danny has the better.

  ‘I’ve tasted those meatballs and I can tell that would be a tough decision,’ I say instead. We laugh and I look up at the kitchen not only wishing the food would come quickly as I’m starving but also because I want to be back at the apartment and have Danny all to myself again. What is wrong with me?

  ‘So, how do you find it up in the Lake District? Do you miss city living?’ We didn’t really do a whole lot of talking yesterday and I’m trying to get sex off the brain.

  ‘A bit,’ he says as if mulling it over. ‘I miss the convenience of it all. But in some ways it’s similar.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard that. New York is just like the Lakes.’

  ‘I mean, the same things frustrate me. Tourists. Traffic. Congestion.’

  ‘But it must be beautiful.’

  ‘Oh, it is, without a shadow of a doubt. I love going hiking on the fells and going out on my mate’s boat on the water. It’s also handy as it’s not far on the motorway to places like Liverpool and Manchester.’

  I nod.

  ‘And you, you’re happy in Southsea?’

  ‘Uh-huh, it’s nice. I love the sea and there are coffee shops everywhere now. You’d notice a real difference from what it used to be like. Do you remember when we used to get the train in when we were younger?’

  ‘It always seemed so huge then, didn’t it? We’d get off in the town centre and our mums would grip our hands tightly until we got nearer the sea and then they’d forget and let us loose on the penny sliders,’ he says, smiling at the memory. ‘Please tell me they still have penny sliders?’

  ‘Oh, they do. I think they’re ten pence sliders now.’

  ‘Inflation gets to the best things.’

  ‘I know. I still think of you whenever I have a go on the horse racing. You know it still never pays out for the orange.’

  I think of the amount of time and money we spent watching those tiny mechanical horses judder over the fake ra
ce course, our eyes pressed against the Perspex box that housed it, willing our riders to reach the end first.

  ‘Come on, I wasn’t the only creature of habit. You used to bet on Red Rum every time?’

  ‘Yeah, but more often than not it won and I won ten pence.’

  ‘But you paid ten pence to play. It was much better going for the big gamble. God, I’d forgotten all about that machine. Place your bets now,’ he says, mimicking the robotic voice.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  ‘We’ll have to have a rematch,’ he says.

  I open my mouth to invite him to, but Steve places a steaming hot plate of food down in the middle of us.

  ‘Patatas bravas,’ he says triumphantly. ‘And Manchego, and Andalusian chicken.’

  ‘I am so hungry,’ says Danny. ‘Let’s start, as the rest of the food will probably come out in dribs and drabs.’

  ‘OK,’ I say, stabbing some cheese with my fork and placing it on my little plate.

  ‘So, how’s your mum getting on? I almost didn’t recognise her when I saw her in November. The Patsy’s gone for good, then?’ he says, as if he’s just as sad as I am.

  ‘I think so. She looks like a respectable middle-aged woman now, although of course she’s still acting anything but respectably.’

  ‘Is she still with that guy that she brought to mum’s sixtieth?’

  ‘Keith, yes. I’d forgotten she’d brought him. He so rarely comes to anything we do. She keeps him very separate, but he’s nice enough.’

  ‘And your dad?’

  ‘Still a bit of a wanker, to be honest. But at least now he’s with Frances I get a birthday card every year. It’s not in his hand writing, but it has his name on it.’

  Danny leans his hand over the table and strokes mine as I realise that the smile has fallen a little from my face. There’s something so comforting in knowing that I don’t have to explain anything about my family to Danny. When my dad left my mum, she whisked us away in the car the twenty-minute drive to Petersfield to stay with Danny’s family. We went there most weekends after that. I used to sleep on a metal camp bed with springs that dug into me and squeaked whenever I moved.

  ‘How are your folks, anyway?’