Текст книги "This Man"

Автор книги: Jodi Ellen Malpas

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

Chapter 5

 

He remains silent as I look at him in shock, waiting for an explanation. I get nothing, except for his intense, green eyes gazing at me from across the room. I feel like I’m under a microscope, and that glass of wine is on spin cycle in my stomach, churning around and around as I shift nervously on my heels.

‘Is this some kind of joke?’ I half laugh. I’m still waiting for enlightenment, but it’s not forthcoming.

I try to ignore the mass of magnificent man and frantically search my brain for guidance or instruction. It’s useless. I’m not blind. I’ll happily volunteer that I’ve imagined his chest, more than once, and it exceeds even my highest imaginations and expectations. This man is way past perfect. What should I do? He’s just standing there, with his head slightly lowered, staring up at me through his long lashes. His eyes are piercing me, his mouth slack, and I can see the rise and fall of his incredible chest. There’s some serious definition; not too bulky, just clean…cut… perfection. If he’s devastating fully clothed, then he’s seizure worthy now. I take a deep breath.

Oh God, he has the V. His heavy breathing is causing his muscles to roll and ripple, the increased swells putting the stoppers on his attempt to appear unaffected. He’s really affected. What’s he doing there like that? Stood with only a pair of jeans on, looking all freshly shaven, revealing even more beauty? I mentally slap myself. It’s obvious what he’s playing at. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him. He’s unreal and so bloody forward – it’s almost unattractive…almost.

I laugh lightly to myself. It’s not unattractive – not at all. I’m a pooling mass of want.

Was I hoping to see him? Yes, I’ll admit that. But like this? Yes, actually, I was. I’ve thought of little else since I laid eyes on him.

His arms drape by his sides, but his stance is confident and determined. He’s staring at me with complete intent, his look telling me I’m about to melt with pleasure. I should leave, but as much as I think I need to, as much as I’m battling with my sensible side to run, I don’t. Instead, I run my eyes down his jean clad thighs, noticing the bulge at his groin. He’s absolutely turned on, and judging by the coiled pang of desire that has just sprung into my stomach, so am I.

My body clams up with panic, battling between my conflicting sides – the sensible side, telling me to get the hell out of here, and my dangerous side, pleading with me to stay and take what he wants to give. This is wrong. I was just chatting to his girlfriend downstairs. Well, not chatting. Chatting would imply that it was a friendly converse – it wasn’t.

My debating brain has got me shifting my position as I part my lips to draw a steadying breath. I flex my neck.

‘Relax, Ava,’ he soothes me quietly. ‘You know you want this.’

I almost laugh. Who wouldn’t? Look at him. I stand motionless, the only visible movement is my heart hammering out of my chest, and it increases tenfold when he slowly begins to walk towards me, his eyes fixed on mine.

When he’s a few feet away, his fresh, minty scent engulfs my nose, sending my body involuntarily rigid. I don’t know how I manage it, but I keep my eyes to his, lifting them to maintain contact as he nears, until he’s standing before me. He’s as close as he can be without physically touching me. If there’s a Def-Con One version of high alert for the human body, then I’m in it now.

‘Turn around.’ he orders gently.

I conform without even a thought or hesitation, slowly turning away from him as I puff my cheeks out and clench my eyes shut. What am I doing? I didn’t falter in the slightest. My shoulders are tensing, anticipating his touch, and no amount of mental encouragement to relax is paying off. The only sound breaking the screaming silence is the heavy breathing coming from both of us. I stand for a few moments, then go to turn and face him again, but I’m stopped in my tracks when two firm, warm, slightly shaky hands rest on my shoulders, keeping me from following through on my intent. His touch makes me flinch, and he releases one hand slowly, as if to ensure I’ll stay still. My loose hair is gathered into his hand and released to fall down my front. In my own private darkness, I can hear my head demanding I run away, but my body has a whole other agenda. It’s defiantly ignoring any instructions from my brain. His hand returns to my shoulder and slowly massages my tense muscles. The feeling is divine, my head rolling in appreciation as a small sigh escapes my lips. The pressure increases, and I soak up the delicious movements of his talented hands as I feel his hot minty breath getting closer to my ear. I shudder, moving my face towards the source. I know this is inviting, but right at this moment, I’ve lost all sense. I want more.

‘Don’t stop this.’ he whispers, the vibrations of his voice propelling shockwaves throughout my body. I’m physically shaking. It’s way beyond my control.

My breath catches at the back of my throat. ‘I don’t want to.’ My voice is unrecognisable. I can’t believe he’s captured me like this; I can’t believe I’m accepting this.

‘It’s a good job. I don’t think I’d let you.’ He presses his entire front against my back, his mouth dropping to my ear. ‘I’m going to take your dress off now.’

My nod of agreement is almost non-existent, but he catches it and answers by nipping my earlobe, which only assists in raising the relentless pressure in my already throbbing core.

‘You’re too fucking beautiful, Ava.’ he purrs, skimming his lips across my ear.

‘Oh god,’ I lean back into him, his erection throbbing through his jeans, pulsing into my lower back.

‘Do you feel that?’ He circles his hips. I moan. ‘I’m going to have you, lady’ His words are spoken with absolute conviction.

I’m a complete slave to them. I know he’s bound to have had practice in this area; he must have the gift of seduction down to a fine art. I’m not in denial. Women must be falling at his feet on a daily basis. He’s a well-trained master, seeing and taking what he wants, but it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Right now, I’m here for the taking, with no conscience and no indecisiveness. Caution has been wholly and absolutely thrown to the wind. What harm can it do?

I feel his index finger start at the base of my back, trailing a slow, definite stroke up the centre of my spine, causing my head to roll freely. I plead with my hands to remain at my sides, when all I want to do is turn and devour him, but he’s already stopped me from turning to face him once. He clearly likes to be in control.

As he reaches the very top of my dress, he grasps the zip and places his hand on my hip. I jerk. It’s my ultimate tickle spot and any friction on my hip bone, or the hollow above it, sends me through the roof. Squeezing my eyes shut, I use every ounce of willpower I possess to disregard the contact.  It’s hard, but the sheer size of his hand splayed across my hip grounds me, keeping me immobile.

The zip of my dress slowly lowers and I hear him gasp at the exposure of my bare skin. He removes his hand from my hip, and I’m stunned when I miss the heat immediately. But then I feel both hands slide under the material of my dress and rest on my bare shoulders. His fingers flex as he pushes my dress away from my front before slowly dragging it down my body, letting it fall to the floor.

His breath catches, and I thank everything holy that I put on decent underwear. I’m stood in my bra, knickers and heels, and at the complete mercy of the Adonis looming behind me. What the hell am I doing?

‘Hmmm, lace.’ he whispers. My waist is griped and I’m lifted out of the pooling dress before being turned to face him. In these heels, my eyes are level with his chin and with a little flick upwards, I’m focused on his full, beautiful lips and wishing he would lay them on mine. I’m swiftly losing my self-control and my conscience has long left the building. I’m wanton, and with this man, easy.

He lifts a hand to my breast and circles my nipple through my bra with his thumb, his gaze focused on his movements. My nipples tingle at the contact, lengthening behind the material of my bra. A small smile plays at the corners of his lips. He knows the affect he’s having on me. He introduces his index finger and tweaks the stiff nub, causing my breasts to throb, becoming heavy, aching mounds. I’m completely rapt by this man studying me so closely, working me up into a shaking, desperate mess. I still can’t believe I’m doing this, but damn, can I stop it?

I watch as he brings his other hand up to palm my other breast. I can no longer keep my hands off of  him. My arms lift and my palms settle on his chest. The warmness and firmness hitches my breath. I start to trail my finger down the void between his pecs, smiling to myself when I feel him flinch under my touch and groan low in his throat. Before I can make the most of the access to his body, he turns me back around, and I want to cry inside.

‘I want to see you.’ I breathe.

‘Shhhh.’ He hushes me, unclasping my bra and running his hands under the straps.

He lowers them down my arms, letting it drop to the floor, before his hands find my breasts and knead deliberately. He continues to breathe hot, heavy breaths in my ear.

‘You.and.me.’ he growls and spins me around, crashing his lips against mine, robbing me of breath.

I’m back to where I want to be. His tongue skims my bottom lip, seeking entry, and I don’t deny him. I accept him into my mouth, our tongues dueling, his mouth hot, his tongue lax but severe. I fling my arms over his shoulders to pull him closer as he presses his groin into my lower stomach. His erection is as hard as steel and bidding for escape from the confines of the denim encasing it. Every part of him feels perfect. It’s everything I imagined.

A low moan escapes his mouth as both of his hands drift up my back to cup my head, his fingers splayed around the back, the heel of his palms resting on my cheek bones. He breaks the kiss and I whimper at the loss. His shoulders are rising and falling with the deep breaths he’s struggling to get into his lungs, and he rests his forehead against mine with his eyes clenched shut. He looks in pain.

‘I’m going to get lost in you.’ he breathes, his hand traveling back down the curve of my spine to the rear of my thigh. With one gentle tug, he pulls my leg up to rest against his hip, cupping my bum with his other. He searches my eyes desperately. ‘There’s something here,’ he whispers. ‘I’m not imagining it.’

No, he’s not. I think back to Friday, when I first laid my eyes on him. I felt like I’d been electrocuted, all sorts of strange reactions firing off in my mind and body. That wasn’t normal, and I’m so relieved that I wasn’t the only one to feel it. ‘There’s something.’ I confirm quietly, watching as his eyes change from uncertainty to complete satisfaction.

I’m stood on one leg, semi draped around his waist, ready to jump the gun and wrap my other leg around him. I need to feel all of him. I need his lips on mine. As if reading my mind, he tilts his head and lowers his mouth to mine, but this time he’s calmer as he gently brushes his lips over mine at the most dreamy pace. He tilts his pelvis into me, and I instantly recognise the start of a huge build-up of pressure in my groin. I’m powerless to control it; I don’t want to control it.

Grinding his hips against me, he continues to take my mouth slowly, the combined sensation having me tinkering on the edge. One touch and I’m likely to explode.

His kiss hardens, the grinding of his hips increasing. ‘Oh, Jesus,’ he mumbles against my lips. ‘Don’t ruin this.’

Don’t ruin this? Why is he pleading with me, or is he pleading with himself? But then it all becomes clear when I hear someone calling Jesse’s name. I recognise the cold, unfriendly voice as Sarah’s. And just like that, my building pleasure dies of death, retreating faster than it came.

Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! I’m screaming it repeatedly in my head. My languid, worked up body suddenly stiffens, my fingers digging into Jesse’s shoulders. What am I doing? His girlfriend is prowling around, possibly outside, and I’m shacked up in here with her boyfriend’s hands all over me. I’m hideous!

He deepens the kiss, pushing onto my lips to the point of pain, his tongue invading my mouth with urgency. I know he’s trying to keep me in the game. He releases my thigh and brings his hands to my hips to keep me still. He thinks I’m going to run. I am going to run. He releases my lips, my head dropping automatically.

‘The door’s locked.’ he assures me quietly.

I can’t carry on with this now! I may not like the woman, but I’m not a home wrecker. I’ve done some damage, but I can stop this progressing to the point of no return. He brings one hand up to seize my jaw, tilting my head up and holding it firm as he focuses his green pools straight on me. His frown line is clear as he searches my eyes for something – hope, I think.

‘Please.’ he mouths.

I shake my head slightly in his grasp, my gaze plummeting to his chest, my eyes squeezing shut. His hand tightens on my hip and he shakes my jaw slightly in a desperate attempt to drag me out of the shell I’ve crawled into.

‘Don’t run.’ He almost grinds the words out, making it sound more like an order.

‘I can’t do this.’ I whisper, feeling his hands drop away from me on a frustrated growl.

‘Jesse?’ I hear Sarah’s voice again, but closer this time.

In a complete daze, I scoop my dress up from the floor before running into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me and flipping the lock. I lean against the back of the door, virtually naked, trying to control my erratic breathing. I look up to the ceiling in an attempt to prevent the tears from falling. I’m so disappointed with myself.

I think I hear the sound of muffled voices coming from the bedroom, and I try to stabilise my breathing so I can listen to what’s going on. But, there’s nothing. No noise, no talking…nothing. Damn me for being half naked so I can’t escape. Instead, I’ve resorted to fleeing into the bathroom, hiding like the desperate tart that I am. I’m not comfortable with these feelings. I’m truly ashamed of myself. I’ve been cheated on plenty of times, and I’ve annihilated all of those women who’ve intruded on my relationships. Over many a bottle of wine, I’ve condemned them, bad mouthed them and wished them some truly merciless reprisals. Now, I’m one of them. I groan, smacking the heel of my hand on my forehead.

Tart!

When I hear a door shut, I stiffen. Is that him leaving, or is he coming back? Either way, I need to get dressed. I search for my bra within the bunching material of my dress that’s gathered in my hands – no bra.  Shaking my dress out frantically, I pray for its appearance but still…nothing. I sigh and step into my dress, pulling it up my body and reaching around to fasten the zip. I’ll have to do without because I’m certainly not attempting to retrieve it from the bedroom.

I walk over to the mirror to inspect myself. It’s as I suspected; I look dreadful. My eyes are swimming with unshed tears, my lips swollen and red, and my cheeks are flushed. I look harassed; I am harassed. I try in vain to straighten myself out, so I can at least exit with a bit of dignity in tack, but there’s no escaping the distraught look I’m displaying. This will be the ultimate walk of shame.

I flinch when there’s a knock on the door.

‘Ava?’

I keep quiet. Oh God, he sounds almost angry. I pull my fingers through my hair and dab my eyes with tissue to soak up the tears. I look no better, but I know I’ll feel better when I’m out of here. Geeing myself up to face the music that’s a disappointed man blocking my escape, I gingerly unlock the door. It flies open, nearly knocking me off of my feet, and Jesse is filling the doorway. He is angry. And he’s blocking my path.

I look past him into the bedroom, finding we’re alone. He must be a bloody convincing liar because he’s still shirtless, and there’s no Sarah trying to rip my hair out. As if he has the right to look at me all disapproving and make me feel like a letdown. I push past him.

‘Where the hell are you going?’ he shouts after me.

I don’t respond. I keep my pace up, grabbing my bag and stalking out onto the gallery landing, hearing Jesse curse as I make my escape.

‘Ava!’ he yells.

I take the stairs fast, glancing up as I go, spotting Jesse flying out of the suite, fighting to get his t-shirt on. Detouring into the bar to collect my phone, I find Mario serving some gentlemen. My good manners prevent me from demanding it immediately, so I stand patiently and wait, fidgeting and flustering the whole time.

‘Did you get what you came for?’ Sarah’s cold voice stabs at my flesh. Oh God, does she know? Is there a double meaning there?

I turn, plastering on a false smile. ‘You mean measurements? Yes.’

She looks me over, her elbow resting on her hip, with her sloe gin and tonic suspended in front of her face. She knows. Oh, this is awful.

Jesse races into the bar, skidding to a stop in front of us. I look at him in horror. Could he be any more obvious? I glance at Sarah to gage her reaction to this little scene, finding her looking thoughtfully at us both. She definitely knows. I need to leave, right now.

I turn back towards the bar. Thank God, Mario spots me. ‘Miss O’Shea, here, you must try.’ He hands me a short of some sort.

‘Do you have my phone, Mario?’

‘You try.’ he demands.

In my desperation to get out of here, I knock the whole thing back in one foul gulp. It burns the back of my throat, continuing the burn as it makes its way down my throat and into my stomach.

My mouth forms an O as I squeeze my eyes shut. ‘Wow!’

‘It is good?’

I blow out a long, hot breath, handing the glass back to him. ‘Yes. It’s very good.’ I begin to get the aftertaste of…cherries? He takes the glass, winks and hands me my phone.

I smooth my dress, taking a deep breath, before turning back to face the two people I never want to see again. I’m sure there’s a gigantic, neon sign saying Tart flashing on my forehead.

‘You left this upstairs.’ Ward hands me my folder but doesn’t release it when I tug gently.

‘Thank you,’ I frown at him as he stares at me, his brow completely furrowed as he chews his bottom lip. He finally lets it go, and I tuck it in my bag. ‘Goodbye.’ I leave them both in the bar, making my way to my car. He can’t pursue me with Sarah there to bear witness and that is a major relief.

I get in and start my car, ignoring the voice in my head screaming “You’re probably over the limit!” This is so irresponsible of me, but desperation leaves me with no alternative. I reverse out of the space and see Jesse come bounding out of the doors. He can’t be serious? Why doesn’t he just come out and tell her exactly what just happened?

Frantically, I shift into first gear, pulling off sharply and leaving a cloud of dust in my wake. I’ve never drove my Mini so erratically. As the fog of dust clears behind me, I see Jesse in the rear view mirror, throwing his arms around in the air like some raving lunatic. I speed down the tree covered driveway, my head spinning – a mixture of drink and distress – trying to block everything out of my mind and concentrate on the road ahead of me. I’m in no state to be driving. All my senses are dulled, the drink only a minor contributing factor to my hysterical state of mind.

Glancing down at the dashboard, I note I’m driving stupidly fast and without the headlights or my seatbelt on. My head is all over the place. The gates come into view and I release the accelerator. ‘Open, please, open.’ I plead as I pull to a standstill. ‘Open!’ I thump the steering wheel in frustration and the horn screams, sending me on a startled jump in my seat. The sound of a car approaching drags my eyes to the rearview mirror. The headlights are getting closer.

‘Oh, fucking hell!’ I curse.

It skids to a stop behind me and the door flies open. Jesse gets out and strides forward at a leisurely rate, but I’m not trying to kid myself that he doesn’t look fuming. Just because he didn’t get his rocks off? I dramatically slump my arms and head onto the steering wheel, feeling completely flattened. My aim to escape, no questions asked or explanations given, has been well and truly dashed – not that I owe him any explanations. The situation, in all its hideousness, speaks for itself.

The driver door is yanked open and he grabs my arm, gently pulling me from the car and taking my keys from the ignition. ‘Ava,’ He looks at me all disapproving. I want to yell at him, but he gets in first. ‘You’re half pissed! I swear to God, if you’d of hurt yourself…’

I wince at his words, mentally scolding myself for being so reckless. I stand in front of him, soaking up his displeasure, feeling humiliated and pathetic. He grasps my jaw in his hand to look down at me. He’s moving in for a kiss, I can see it in his eyes. Oh, please. I really don’t need this. I pull my face from his grip.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks softly, reaching for me again.

I brush him off. ‘Funnily enough, no, I’m not. Why did you do that?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘You want me,’

‘More than anything,’ he states flatly.

‘What? I’ve never met anyone so full of themselves. Did you plan this? When you rang me yesterday, was this your intention all along?’

‘Yes,’ he admits. There’s absolutely no apology in his tone. ‘I want you.’

I have no idea how to deal with this. He wants me, so he took me. ‘Can you open the gates, please?’ I start walking towards them, but they’re still unmoving by the time I reach them. I swing around in the most threatening manner I can muster. ‘Open the damn gates!’

‘You honestly think I’m going to let you go wandering aimlessly out there when you’re miles from home?’

‘I’ll call a cab. It’s not your concern. Open the gates.’

‘Absolutely not, I’ll take you.’

I look at his car. It’s an Aston Martin – all black, shiny and beautiful – it figures. ‘Just open the fucking gates!’ I scream at him.

‘Watch your fucking mouth!’

Watch my mouth? Watch my bloody mouth? I want to thump him, fall to my knees and cry in frustration, proper howl at the moon wails. I feel such a fool – humiliated and ashamed.

‘I’m not prepared to be a notch on your busy bedpost.’ I spit. I have a little more self-respect than that…kind of.

‘You actually believe that?’ He’s really very puzzled.

Give me strength. This man is the ultimate player, seeing and taking what he wants, when he wants it. Who does he think he is? Our confrontation is interrupted when his mobile starts ringing.

It’s swiftly removed from his pocket. ‘John?’ He turns and starts pacing. ‘Yeah…okay.’ The call is ended quickly. ‘I’ll take you home.’ He holds his hand out.

‘No, please. Just open the gates.’ I’m pleading, and it wasn’t the tone I was aiming for.

‘No, I’m not letting you out there on you own, Ava. End of. You’re coming with me.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Yes, you are.’

I snap my head up when a car pulls off the main road.

‘Fuck!’ Jesse roars, yanking his phone back out of his pocket, at the same time trying to make a grab for me.

The gates start to open and I run to grab my bag from my car.

‘John, don’t open the fucking gates.’ he yells into his phone. ‘Well, tell Sarah not to!’

As soon as the opening is big enough to allow, I squeeze through, just as they start closing again. I see Jesse run to his car, bashing something on the dash board. The gates start opening again. Won’t the man just give it a rest? I get my phone out and dial a cab number as I start walking down the lane. The call connects and I go to speak, but the wind is knocked clean out of me when I’m grabbed around my waist.

‘What!’ I scream as I’m hoisted from my feet, spun around and tossed over his shoulder.

‘You’re not wandering around on your fucking own, lady.’ he grates, his tone full of authority, making me feel younger, or him older – I’m not sure

‘What’s it got to do with you?’ I spit. I’m boiling mad and bobbing up and down as he strides back to his car.

‘Apparently, nothing, but I do have a conscious. You’re not leaving here unless it’s in my car. Do you understand me?’ He places me on my feet, grasps my elbow and guides me into his car before slamming the door and getting into my Mini to move it to the side of the driveway.

I smirk as I watch him yank the lever to slide the seat back as far as it will go, but even at its furthest away from the wheel, he still struggles to cram his tall, lean body in. He looks pretty stupid. I want to yell at him some more when he wheel spins and skids to a stop. My poor Mini has never been so ill-treated.

He huffs his way back and throws himself in his car, giving me a ferocious scowl before he starts the car and roars off.

The journey home is painfully silent and frighteningly fast. The man is a menace on the roads, and I wish he would at least put the radio on to rid the car of the awkward silence.

I begrudgingly admire the interior of his DBS. I’m cradled in the seat, with acres of black, quilted leather surrounding me, as I stare out of the window the whole way home. I feel his eyes fixed on me every so often, but I ignore it. Instead, I concentrate on the guttural roar of the engine as it eats up the road ahead. What has just happened?

He pulls up outside Kate’s, after I direct him in with short, sharp instructions, and I let myself out.

‘Ava?’ I hear him call me, but I shut the car door and race up the path to the house, cursing out loud when I realise he’s got my bloody car keys. I turn to make my way back down the path, but I hear the roar of his engine burning off down the road.

I screw my face up in my own private disgust. He’s done that on purpose so I have to call him. Well, he’ll be waiting a long time. I would rather go without my car. I traipse back up the path and bash on the door.

‘Where are your keys?’ Kate asks when she answers the door.

I think quickly. ‘My car’s having some new brakes. I forgot to remove my house keys.’

She accepts my excuse with no further questions. ‘There’s a spare door key in the pot by the kitchen window.’ She runs back up the stairs and I follow, immediately opening a bottle of wine before rummaging through the fridge for something to eat. Nothing takes my fancy. Wine will do.

‘Yes, please.’ Kate comes breezing back into the kitchen. She’s already jimmy-jammed up, and I can’t wait to join her. I pour her a glass, while trying to morph my face into anything other than the shocked expression that I know is still visible.

‘Good day?’ I ask.

She collapses into one of the mismatching chairs around the chunky, pine table. ‘I spent most of the day collecting cake stands. You would think people would be kind enough to return them.’ She takes a sip of her wine, gasping in appreciation.

I join her at the table. ‘You need to start asking for a deposit.’

‘I know. Hey, I have a date tomorrow night.’

‘With who?’ I ask, wondering if this one will make it past the first.

‘A very yummy client. He stopped by to collect a cake for his niece’s first birthday – a Jungle Junction cake. How sweet is that?’

‘Very sweet,’ I agree. ‘How did that come about?’

‘I asked him.’ She shrugs.

I laugh. Her confidence is charming. She must hold the world record for first dates. The only long term relationship she’s ever had was with my brother, but we don’t talk about that. Since they split and Dan moved to Australia, Kate has been on endless dates, none of them progressing past the first.

‘I’m going to get changed and give my Mum a call,’ I get up, taking my wine with me. ‘I’ll meet you on the sofa soon.’

‘Cool,’

I really need to speak to my Mum. Kate’s my best friend, but you can’t beat your Mother when you just want comfort. Not that I can tell her why I need comforting. She would be horrified.

Once I’m changed into my baggy pants and a vest top, I flop onto my bed and dial my Mum. It rings once before she answers.

‘Ava?’ Her voice is shrill, but still soothing.

‘Hi, Mum.’

‘Ava? Ava? Joseph, I can’t hear her. Am I doing it right? Ava?’

‘I’m here, Mum. Can you hear me?’

‘Ava? Joseph, it’s broken. I can’t hear anything. Ava!’

I hear my Dad’s mumbled moans in the background before he comes on the line. ‘Hello?’

‘Hi, Dad,’ I yell.

‘You don’t have to bloody shout!’

‘She couldn’t hear me.’

‘That’s because she had the bloody thing upside down, stupid woman.’

I hear my Mum laugh in the background, followed by a slapping sound that is, without doubt, her walloping my Dad’s shoulder. ‘Is she there? Can you hear her? Give me it here.’ There’s a little scuffle before she’s back on the line. ‘Ava? Are you there?’

‘Yes!’ Why didn’t I just ring the landline? She insisted I ring her new mobile so she can get the hang of it, but good God, she’s hard work. She’s only forty seven, but a complete techno-phobic.

‘Ah. That’s better, I can hear you now. How are you?’

‘Good. I’m good, Mum. You?’

‘Yes, everything’s fine. Guess what? We have exciting news,’ She doesn’t give me a chance to guess. ‘Your brother’s coming home to visit!’

I sit up in excitement. Dan’s coming home?  I’ve not seen my brother for six months. He’s living the dream on the Gold Coast as a surf instructor and only comes home once or twice a year. We were so close. Kate’s going to freak out over this news, and not in a good way.

‘When?’ I demand.

‘Next Sunday. Isn’t it exciting? I was only saying to your Dad last week that we should fly out to see him, but he won’t get on a plane. You know what he’s like.’

My Dad’s fear of flying is highly frustrating to my poor Mum, who has to endure a two day drive to Spain every year. ‘Do you know what his plans are?’ I press.

‘He’s flying into Heathrow, coming straight down to Cornwall for the week to see me and Dad, and then he’s making his way back up to London. Will you come with him? You’ve not visited in weeks.’

I suddenly feel rotten. I’ve not seen my parents for nearly eight weeks. ‘I’ve been so busy at work, Mum. I’ve got the Lusso launch, it’s hectic. I’ll try my best, okay?’