Dear Madam,

Thank you for so kindly sending me your toenail clippings. Could I possibly ask you to send me more, as I’m making them into a bedspread?

Kind Regards,

 

 

‘Stayin’ Alive’ by Say Lou Lou slips sexily from the stereo, and the whole room is full of people darting here and there, checking the lighting and changing the set background. I might as well be naked as I’m wearing quite possibly the smallest pair of briefs I’ve ever seen, but I stand no chance of freezing as the lights in here give off as much heat as the Sahara Desert in summer.

I shift slightly in my chair as the make-up artist runs her brush over my face, clearing away the excess powder. “Shit, May, that tickles,” I mutter, and she giggles.

“Got to see those cheekbones, gorgeous. I’m loving this new hair. It makes your face look all moody and sulky.”

I instinctively raise my hand up to feel the cut which still feels alien, only for her to slap my hand. “Don’t touch it, you twat, or Bets will be over and she’s already in a bad mood.”

I shudder at the thought of the hair stylist, who on a good day rivals a pissed off bear for her temperament. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Not with those lips you won’t. They spell trouble.” She smirks and reaches over to the make-up table. She rummages through the tubes and boxes before exclaiming in satisfaction and coming back with a pot of lip colour which she painstakingly paints on. I sigh. It doesn’t look like I have any on, but I hate the fucking shit. It makes my lips feel funny afterwards.

I look down at my body and sniff curiously. “Ugh, this spray tan stuff smells like crap. I hate it.”

She runs her make-up brush sharply down my ribs and laughs when I squirm away. “Deal with it. Spray tan was invented especially for bodies like yours.”

“It’s hardly a ground breaking discovery like penicillin.” I sniff my arm again. “I think I’d rather have that sprayed on me.”

She looks up. “Be good or Marco will have a fit.”

I groan because Marco fucking hates me. I rejected him once on a photoshoot, and he’s never forgotten it. I make myself smile at her. “I’m a very good boy.”

She throws her head back and laughs. “Since when, you total tart?”

She bends over the table again, muttering to herself, and I look at her affectionately. I love May and always cheer up when I know she’s on one of my shoots. I met her through Patrick, one of Dylan’s old boyfriends, and we instantly had a connection. We’ve shared many very drunken nights together, and she even stayed with us for a couple of months after her flat lease ran out. She and Dylan got on like a house on fire, and we had a very alcohol heavy few months. It was probably a good thing when she moved out, because it was either that or all our livers would soon have given up.

I glance up to find her looking at me. “What?”

She shakes her head. “I haven’t seen you around lately, and when I bumped into Dylan he said you were staying with a bloke and his son and helping him out with childcare.”

“Did you think he was taking the piss?”

She takes my chin in her hands and assesses her handiwork critically, before shaking her head. “Course not. You’d be great with kids.”

“Really?” I can’t hide the astonishment in my voice, and she glares at me.

“Don’t put yourself down, Jude. You know I fucking hate it. You’re really good fun but you have boundaries and you really care about people. You’ve got a very kind heart, Jude Bailey.” She sighs. “I wish I had a cock.”

I choke on my spit and then laugh loudly. “Me too, babe. Life would be a lot simpler.”

“So, about this bloke then? Is he fit?”

I sigh. “It’s probably best you don’t make me think of things like that when I’m wearing these briefs.”

She gives a cackle and looks as if she’s about to question me further, but Marco declares he’s ready and she hustles off.

I shuffle over to stand on the drop cloth. I’m shooting with Petra, a blonde reed-thin model who is now dressed in a beautiful long sheath dress and diamonds. Why I’m only wearing briefs is something I can’t work out, but I presume it’s out of my pay bracket to think about these things. We’ve been here for hours and the two of us have already posed in every conceivable position, so we smile at each other and obligingly fall into the required arrangement without making polite conversation.

As we’re moved around and positioned like action figures, my mind wanders, and not surprisingly it wanders back to home. I stutter slightly and amend myself. Asa’s home. Not mine. Bad Jude.

Marco’s assistant darts over and pulls at my arm so it’s wrapped around Petra at a different angle. “Stop fidgeting,” he mutters. “Marco’s going to have a shit fit in a minute if you move any more. Get your mind on the job or we’ll be here for fucking hours, and I’ve got a date this afternoon.”

I stare at him, and nod slightly to acknowledge the criticism. I wasn’t aware I was fidgeting. That’s not good. I may hate this job, but I’m usually extremely professional. It’s because I’m itching to get back as I promised Billy we’d make Asa a big collage picture. We went out yesterday to buy the supplies, but I make a mental note to remember to stop off on the way back and get some sticky backed plastic. I’m meeting Rachel the arty mum from Billy’s school for coffee straight after this so I’ll have time.

Maybe she can explain what’s been up with Asa since Billy brought Mr Miffles home. I don’t know what he’s up to, but he’s being rather secretive. I move to lie on my back with Petra reclining regally against my chest. I check Marco appears content, and then go back to my thoughts. There seem to be a lot of whispered conversations with Peggy and Billy which immediately stop when I come into the room. I know I can get it out of Billy if I want, because he’s an easy mark for information. I hope in the future he doesn’t consider a career where he has to keep things confidential, because they’ll be all over his office within hours.

I only become aware that I’m smiling when Marco makes a disgusted sound. “Jude, for fucks sake we’re aiming for edgy and sexily sullen here, and you’re fucking giving me ditzy and constipated with that look. Focus.”

I channel the fact that I hate this man, and give him a sneer. Back to fucking work.

Three hours later I fall into a seat at the coffee table, and smile at Rachel. “Sorry I’m late.”

She grins at me around a mouthful of chocolate chip muffin. “It’s fine. Ten minutes completely alone is a gift to any mum.”

I put my coffee down carefully as I look at the table which is strewn all over with sheets of paper covered in pencil sketches of her boys. “It looks like you’ve kept busy.”

She smiles. “If I stop moving I need a paintbrush or a pencil in my hand.”

I gesture to one of the sheets. “May I?” She nods and I pick it up. “Wow, this is absolutely amazing, Rachel. You’re very talented.”

She shrugs. “Thank you. I’m a portrait painter by trade. This is just something for my husband’s birthday.”

I look up. “Oh, did you do the portrait of Billy hanging in Asa’s lounge?” She nods and I grin. “It’s amazing. So many portraits are too formal and stiff. You’ve got his naughtiness and smile just right. That smile makes me laugh every time. It’s got a certain tilt to it which says he’s going to do something quite soon you’ll be trying hard not to laugh at.”

She stuffs the rest of her muffin into her mouth and chews rapidly, staring at me with bright eyes. She’s older than I originally thought, with faint lines around her eyes. She’s gorgeous, with a quirky and typically English fine boned beauty mixed with a touch of rebel. I like her. Swallowing her muffin she smiles. “You certainly know Billy well.”

I shrug and lean back. “Let’s have it.”

She laughs. “Come on. I’m only human and you’re the sole topic of conversation around the school gates. Usually it’s me, and how I feed my children non-organic baked beans that haven’t been blessed by the Pope, and how I forget to use fabric softener.” She pauses. “Or wash their clothes.” She shrugs and smiles. “I need to know who’s supplanted me as target number one.”

I laugh and fill her in on how I came to stay with Asa. When I’ve finished she stares at me with something working behind her eyes, before she smiles. “It’s nice that you’re helping him. It certainly explains why he’s been in such a good mood lately.”

I sip my coffee and snag a stray chocolate chip from her plate. “I forgot you know him. How did that happen?”

She smiles fondly. It seems to be most people’s default facial expression when they talk about Asa. “We were standing at the school gates one afternoon. It was one of those rare days when I remembered to pick up the children.” I laugh and she grins. “Anyway, Hilary was standing about two feet away with the Witches of Eastwick, and they were making some really catty comments about me. I was aware of this big man with wild hair standing there, but I didn’t connect him with Billy because Phillip usually did the pick-ups and drop-offs, and I didn’t like him.” I can’t conceal the jerk my body gives, but she blithely carries on. “So there I was, trying not to stare too hard at this beautiful man …”

She flutters her eyelashes, and I shrug. “It is hard not to look at him.” We burst out laughing, and I gesture to her. “Carry on.”

“Asa stood next to me, and as the comments carried on I could see his body becoming tenser and tenser, until finally he turned round to Hilary and said, ‘If you spent more time on developing empathy and generosity of heart, than you do on matching the colour of your nail varnish to your shoes, you might be a better person.’” I burst out laughing and she smiles. “It was fucking epic. Hilary just stood there with her mouth opening and closing like a big fish, while he turned round to me and started talking. I must admit I’ve been a little in love with that man ever since.”

“He is amazing,” I say softly, and her eyes sharpen, but she kindly ignores my remark and carries on.

“He walked home with me that day and met James. The two of them immediately bonded over a love of rugby and Raymond Chandler novels, and voilà. I’m convinced that if we didn’t have children, James would totally run off with him, if only for his whisky collection and the freedom to watch rugby on television whenever he wants.” She sighs. “It was good to see him the other night. He was low and very wary after Phillip, and it was lovely to see him with such a big smile on his face.”

I want to know about Phillip so badly, but I can’t gossip. “Why was he smiling?” A thought hits me in the sternum. Is he seeing someone?

Rachel speaks again and steals my thoughts away. “You.”

“Sorry?”

“He was laughing about you.” She bursts into giggles. “Fucking hell. I wish I’d been a fly on the wall when you were pretending to be Dean.”

“Do you know Dean?”

She grins. “I’ve met him at a couple of Asa’s barbeques. He’s a character.”

I laugh. “Truer words were never said.” I hesitate. “So, he was talking about me?”

She smiles knowingly. “A lot.”

 I wriggle under her stare and quickly change the subject. “What are you going to do with the children when they break up today for six whole weeks?”

She groans pitifully, and I laugh because her twin boys are hellions. We fall into plans for the long summer holidays, arranging some outings together, and I know I’ve found a friend. But when we get up to leave she grabs my arm gently.

“Be good to him, Jude. He might be a big man, but he’s also got a generous heart and it’s a tender one. A lot of the people who have been in his life have never recognised it, and they’ve ended up hurting him.”

I smile and nod casually but her words hit my soft spot, and my own heart aches at the thought of Asa being sad.

***

I come awake a few nights later. At first, I look around blearily, trying to work out what’s woken me, and then I sit up with a muffled scream. “Were you lifting up my eyelids?”

Billy settles down cross legged on the pillow next to me. “Yes,” he says in a loud whisper. “I wanted to see if you were awake.”

“I am now,” I say faintly, and a deep chuckle sounds from the door. Looking up, I see Asa, his big frame washed in the light from the hallway. He’s dressed in faded jeans, a white t-shirt and a navy cardigan. His hair is tied up in a messy man bun and he looks disgustingly awake.

“You can laugh,” I say. “He’s graduated from standing over me, staring at me, and waiting for me to wake up, to actual bodily contact with my eyelids. It’s escalating, and starting to look like a scene from ‘The Omen’.”

“What’s ‘The Omen’?” Billy asks, and I notice he’s dressed too, in grey cuffed joggers, a navy t-shirt and tiny navy Converse.

“A comedy about a boy and his dog,” I say absently, hearing Asa’s snort of laughter. Then my eye falls on my phone. “What the… it’s three in the morning. What’s happened? Is it the apocalypse? Because I have to say that unless it’s actually reached St Johns Wood, I’m not leaving this bed.”

“What’s a pocolip?” Billy asks, setting down in the bed and cuddling into my side. I sling my arm around him, and look up to see Asa looking at us, a soft look in his eyes.

“It’s what happens when you wake me up at three in the morning for no discernible reason.”

“Oh, but we have got a reason,” Asa drawls. “Go, Billy!”

In the next second the bedroom explodes with coloured paper, as he and Billy let loose the giant party poppers I’ve just noticed they have in their hands. ‘Happy Birthday’ they shout, and Billy jumps up and down on the mattress, catching the falling paper and looking like a five-year-old trampoline champion.

I sit up slowly. “Oh my God,” I say softly. “What is happening to my life right now?”

Asa crosses over and sits on the edge of the bed. To my surprise, he looks almost worried, his soft brown eyes full of trepidation. Inexplicably I want to comfort him. Instead I just sit and stare at him with my mouth slightly open, while he shifts uneasily.

“The thing is,” he says slowly. “We might have done something.”

“What?” 

He flinches slightly. “Yes. I’m not exactly sure we should have done it, but -” He pauses and then picks up speed, the words tumbling out. “It’s just that it’s your birthday, and Bill and I … well, we really like you.” A flush creeps over his face, and he shrugs his massive shoulders slightly. “Anyway, we couldn’t ignore it, so we decided we’re going to take you away for your birthday.”

I’m absolutely struck dumb for a second, and then I say slowly, “So, when you say we decided, you actually meant you decided.”

He shoots me a sideways glance, analysing my facial expression, and then carries on talking in an earnest, serious manner that is absolutely melting something inside me. “Okay, I decided. I know you said you have bad memories, so I thought maybe you could for once try and make new memories, better ones. So, I decided the three of us are going to Frenchman’s Creek in Cornwall.”

I jerk and stare at him in shock. “Why there?”

He shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “Back when you were pretending to have the brainpower of a dead person, I would come across you reading magazines like Heat, and I didn’t think anything of it. Then when I became suspicious, I started investigating, and I found out you were actually hiding the fact you were reading novels.” He pauses, and a thread of laughter enters his voice. “Historical romance novels.”

My whole body flushes. “Oh, shut up. I like them. I’ve always liked them.”

He nudges me. “I know. I’ve seen your reading choices. Anyway, the one book I noticed you keep coming back to is ‘Frenchman’s Creek’ by Daphne du Maurier.”

I nod slowly. “It’s my favourite. Has been since I was a teenager. I wanted to live in Cornwall.” I clear my throat and mutter, “And maybe marry a pirate.”

He nods soberly. “I can see where you’re coming from, Jude, and you’d probably look good in the clothes, but I really think you’d struggle with the rum and lack of Wi-Fi.”

I shake my head sadly. “I was doomed before I could ever even dream. Damn that rum and high-speed broadband package.” He laughs and I smile at him. “I can’t believe you’ve done all this based on finding me reading the book.”

He smiles softly. “I think you’re a bit of a dreamer, Jude. You just conceal it well.”

“Not well enough,” I say slowly.

He shrugs. “Maybe I just see you better.” He stops, looking surprised by his words, and then carries on talking quickly. “I thought the three of us could have a few days in Cornwall and explore the setting of the book. I did some investigating, and I’ve found an absolutely beautiful little cottage right on the mouth of the river, tucked in amongst the woodland. You literally walk out of the front door and you could be in the book.”

I stare at him. This big, sometimes bombastic, warm, scruffy man, has only known me for a short time, yet he’s somehow hit on the way to my heart, when younger, prettier, richer men couldn’t manage it, no matter what they did. I can’t find my voice because my throat is thick with emotion and he slumps slightly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. It’s really wrong to try and force someone to do something they can’t. Don’t worry about going. I’ll take Billy because I promised, but you can stay here.” He tries a smile. “Have the time off.”

I look around my room at the piles of multi coloured confetti and Billy crouched on my bed playing with the paper and singing a desultory rendition of the happy birthday song which has squashed tomatoes and stew in the lyrics. Then I look at this big man with the soft, tired eyes, wild hair and raffish, warm charm, and I smile. “No. I want to go,” I hear myself say.

He brightens instantly. “Really? You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“I actually really want to,” I say out loud, sounding amazed. “I would like nothing more than to do this, just the three of us.” The words give me a strange, warm feeling I dismiss as acid reflux due to being startled awake.

He grins his wide slashing grin which, with his wild hair and beard, makes him look more like a pirate than I ever could. “Alright then. Get dressed and packed, and let’s go.”

Billy’s cheers ring out around the room, and we smile at each other.

***

The journey takes seven hours, and is sufficiently traffic logged to explain why Asa wanted to leave at three in the morning. But finally, we arrive at our destination, which at the moment, seems to be a long rough path leading away from the main road and ever onwards. We pass through two gates with me and Billy getting out every time for Billy to painstakingly shut them, while lecturing me on the correct way to keep wildlife safe.

“He’s admirably pious for a hamster-napper,” I say to Asa as we climb back in the car, and he laughs. His face is warm and open as shadows fly over it chasing the warmth from the sunshine which speckles through the trees. Asa starts the car again and we drive slowly down the steep narrow lane, jouncing occasionally as we cross one of the brick gullies which stretch across the path to drain rainwater away. The windows are open, Elbow’s ‘One Day Like This’ is playing on the stereo, and in the back, Billy is singing tunelessly along with a great many wrong lyrics. I feel an unexpected peace steal across me, as though for the first time in forever, I am in the one place I want to be, with the people I’m meant to be with.

I chase the silly thought away and lean out of the window like a dog, inhaling the scent that seems to be a mingling of flowers, wild things growing, and a darker undertone from the nearby water. We’ve spied glimpses of the creek as we’ve driven along, but most of the path has trees and high hedges curving over it, making it seem magical and mysterious. Billy looks wide eyed, his attention everywhere at once like a tiny hummingbird.

Finally, Asa slows the car. “Here’s the wheelbarrow, Billy,” he exclaims. We were supposed to look out for an upside down wheelbarrow which marks the entry to the cottage. Billy looks at the upended wheelbarrow and cheers.

“Daddy, are we nearly there?”

“Yes. You’ve asked me at least a million times so far, but this time I can finally say yes.”

I laugh out loud as Billy cheers, and Asa sends me a slanting, laughing glance, full of comradeship and warmth, making me swallow hard.

Hastily diverting my attention, I stare around as Asa pulls into a small inlet and parks the car. Switching off the engine, he stretches and gives a heavy pleased groan, and just the sound of it makes my cock twitch, so I hastily burst into speech.

“Where is it then?”

He grins and points to a small path. “Just down there apparently. How about we grab the bags and get settled in?”

I nod and leap out, stopping to stretch my cramped body. The car may be a Range Rover, but my long legs weren’t invented for me to sit still for extended periods of time. I inhale deeply and look around, while Asa unbuckles Billy from his car seat, smiling at his excited chatter. The trees surround us so it’s like standing in a green cathedral, and everywhere is the sound of birdsong and the scent of flowers.

Billy runs over and grabs my hand. “I get to hold Jude’s hand,” he shouts to Asa. “Me first.”

I smile down at him, but when I look up I jolt, because Asa is staring at me with an expression I’ve never seen on a man’s face before. Warm and affectionate and clear sighted, as if in that moment I’m all he could ever want. Then he laughs and opens the boot, and the moment is lost.

I grab mine and Asa’s bags, and Billy proudly wheels his own little suitcase shaped like a tiger. Asa shakes his head. “He wanted to pack for himself, so luckily I put his clothes in my bag, or he’d be running round the woods starkers.”

“What’s in that, then?” I nod at the little bag.

Asa shakes his head. “Spiderman figures, Disney DVDs and a megaton of Lego.”

I laugh. “All the major necessities, then.” I watch as he pulls out a box of food and another large carrier bag that he surreptitiously holds down by his side. I look at him suspiciously, but then Billy tugs hard on my arm.

“Come on, Jude. Let’s go and find the cottage.”

Laughing, I comply and we all pick our way down a little path that twists and turns, occasionally giving us glimpses of the creek which we can hear rushing by. Asa points to a silver and black National Trust sign. “That’s the footpath down to Helford and Frenchman’s Creek itself.”

Billy stops and looks hard at the sign, sounding out the letters aloud. “What’s a pubic footpath?” he asks curiously, and I snort before I can stop myself.

“Like a carbon footprint, but higher,” I whisper, and Asa laughs.

“It’s a public path, Bill,” he says smiling. “It means anyone can use it.”

“But they can’t use our cottage, can they, Daddy?” he asks immediately, and smiles when Asa shakes his head. “That’s good,” he says earnestly. “I don’t want anyone apart from you, me and Jude today.”

“Me neither, “Asa says softly.

We walk on for a few minutes, and then the path turns a sharp corner and I gasp in delight when I see our home for the weekend. It’s a little yellow two-storey cottage, nestled into the surrounding woodland as if it’s organically appeared. It faces the creek and sunlight shimmers in lazy dapples across the path leading up to it, which is overshadowed with shrubs. Dog roses and honeysuckle grow nearby and give off a heady aroma.

“Ooh, it’s like Red Riding Hood’s grandma’s cottage,” Billy exclaims. “Are we really staying here?”

“We are,” Asa replies, and hands him a large, iron key. “Why don’t you go up and put the key in the lock?”

Billy throws his bag down and immediately scampers towards the door.

“Asa, this is amazing,” I breathe. “What a location. How on earth did you find it?”

He shrugs, looking almost shy. “I just rang around and asked some mates. This one came recommended.” He looks suddenly worried. “It’s not a luxury stay though. There isn’t any Wi-Fi, and the mobile signal’s apparently quite spotty.” He looks at me apologetically. “It’s fine with me and Bill, but what about you?”

I shake my head, cutting off his words instantly. “I don’t need luxury and superfast broadband, or wet rooms. I can’t believe you even think I do.”

A wince passes quickly over his face. “I’m sorry. I suppose I’m just conditioned to think everyone needs wall to wall wet rooms and butler service after the years with -”

He stops himself suddenly, and an intuitive certainty fills me as to what he was going to say. I stare at him. “Phillip?” I finally ask, and he jerks.

“How do you know about -” he begins, and then finishes fiercely, “Do you know him? Have you been lying?”

“Whoa, whoa!” I hold my hands up. “I have no idea who he is. Someone on the school run mentioned him, and Billy’s said his name a few times.” Inside I’m reeling because he just said years together. Who is Phillip, and more importantly why isn’t he here with this gorgeous man and his child?

Asa wilts and scrubs his hand over his forehead. “I hate the fact Billy still thinks of him,” he says fiercely, and then sags. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, and then looks at me. “I’m so sorry, Jude. It was uncalled for.” He sighs. “It’s just a kneejerk reaction. I thought I’d stopped it, but obviously not.”

I reach out and grab his arm, and he stills abruptly. I can feel the power and strength in his big body, and somehow holding his arm feels like I’ve tamed a mythical giant. Warmth flows over me and I flush and drop my hand. “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask softly.

He stares at me, his eyes dark with huge pupils. “It’s -” He stops and clears his throat. “Maybe.” He looks up at Billy standing in the doorway. “Maybe later?”

“Whenever you want,” I say softly, and for a long second which seems to stretch like warm toffee we stare at each other. It takes Billy’s shout to break the moment.

“Daddy, I might have dropped the key in this hole, but it doesn’t matter. Accidents happen.”

***

A couple of hours later, I finish putting away my clothes and sit down on the window seat in my bedroom that looks out over the creek babbling along. The cottage is lovely - very simple and charming, with low beams and whitewashed walls.

Downstairs is a cosy lounge filled with a comfortable sofa and chairs and a big open fireplace. Beyond that is a charming little kitchen with cream coloured units and an old pine table. I can hear Asa down there now, clattering around putting away food and doing something mysterious.

I look around my bedroom. Against my protests, Asa has given me the main bedroom with its creek views, and it’s gorgeous. Low ceilinged with a big, dark wood bed, made up with white bed linens that feel soft to the touch, and a colourful eiderdown. 

I wander into the twin room at the back of the house where Asa and Billy will be sleeping. The little boy is incredibly excited about sleeping in twin beds in the same room as his dad. Asa has banned us from going downstairs, and I find Billy alone. He’s painstakingly unpacking his toy bag and setting his figures out with military precision, while humming under his breath.

I occupy myself by watching him as I unpack Asa’s bag and put his and Billy’s clothes away. Finally finished with the toys, he then ceremoniously lays out a picture book on the chest next to Asa’s bed.

“What’s that, Billy?” I ask, already knowing the answer before he shows me ‘Kipper’s Snowy Day’ by Mick Inkpen. I smile. “Not again.”

He nods. “Daddy likes this one,” he says seriously. “Really likes this one.”

Daddy could actually recite it word for word without the book, as could I, since it’s Billy’s favourite. He has a story every night after his bath, and two or three if he can wrangle it, which he often can. It’s usually Asa’s time with Billy, unless he’s away, in which case I’m drafted in. They will lie down together, the big man and the little boy, with Asa putting on silly voices and Billy giggling. However, whatever he’s reading, this is the one Billy always comes back to for the last story, and no matter how tired he is, his eyes will flicker open if you so much as miss a word.

“My mummy bought it for me,” he says, and pats the book gently with his little, grubby, tanned hand.

I jerk in surprise because this is the first time he’s ever mentioned his mum. Luckily he doesn’t see, so I make my voice casual. “It was a lovely present, Bill. She really knew what you’d like.”

He shoots me a glance. “She went to heaven when I was a baby,” he says very matter of factly. “Now she sits on the biggest star in the sky, because then she can see me properly when I tell her what I’ve been doing.”

“Do you talk to her often?” I ask, my throat tight.

He nods. “Oh yes, every night. Daddy does it with me. We tell her everything we’ve done and that we love her.” He looks at me firmly. “She’s always listening if I want to talk to her, but she doesn’t watch me all the time.”

I repress a smile. “No, of course not. She’ll be busy in the stars.”

He nods in relief. “I thought she’d be cross when I hit Hugo, but Daddy said she only comes when I need her, just like a real mummy.” He pauses before saying darkly, “He said Mummy wouldn’t be cross about the hitting thing because Hugo was very nasty.”

 My heart constricts at the words real mummy. “Why did you hit Hugo?”

He shrugs. “He said I was weird because I haven’t got a mummy and instead I had two daddies, because Philip lived with me and Daddy.”

I jolt at the knowledge that Phillip had lived with Asa. It makes me feel strange, almost hollow, but I shy away from it and let rage sear through me instead. Kids can be so fucking cruel. It breaks my heart to think of someone saying this and wounding Billy’s warm open heart. “What did you say back?” I ask hoarsely, trying frantically to think of all the correct things one should say in a situation like this.

He shrugs. “I punched him right in the face and he fell over and sat on a piece of Lego which hurt his bottom. Good!” he says with bloodthirsty relish. “Mrs Clark says it’s naughty to hit people, but I said I thought it‘s a lot worse to say horrible things. I don’t say horrible things,” he says indignantly. “And I never tell him his daddy smells funny, and sometimes his mummy forgets to get dressed because she comes to school in her pyjamas.” He sounds faintly scandalized, and then he says, “It doesn’t matter whether my daddy has a boyfriend or a girlfriend, as long as they love each other. I’m not weird and neither’s Daddy. I hit Hugo because he can’t say things like that about my daddy. He’s the best daddy in the world, and he has to be because he does my mummy’s job as well. It’s very tiring.”

“You do have the best daddy in the world,” I say fiercely. “Don’t listen to silly children like Hugo, Bill. What is weird, anyway? Just because they think something’s odd, it doesn’t mean it is. Everyone is entitled to love who they want, and people aren’t weird just because of who they love. No one is weird.”

He looks at me, puzzled and slightly bored with my monologue, and then shakes his head. “I think some people are,” he says judiciously. “What about the funny man we saw the other day who lied down in the middle of the road eating a ham sandwich?”

I open my mouth and shut it, for once utterly unsure of what to say, and then Asa shouts up the stairs. “Bring him down, Bill, but make sure he’s not peeking.”

“Yippee!” Billy shouts, his mood instantly switching back to happiness, and he grabs my hand, towing me to the door. “We’ve got to go downstairs, but you’ve got to close your eyes and I’ll guide you.”

“Really?” I ask dubiously. “Because last time you said that, you got a bit distracted, Bill, and I stepped into some dog poo.”

He lets out peals of laughter, and holding my eyes half-closed I let him guide me down the stairs. “Okay,” he whispers when we get to the bottom. “Are you ready, Daddy?” he shouts.

“Ready,” Asa calls, and Billy runs ahead. I walk into the kitchen and gasp. The table is laid with a feast of pizza, fajitas and hot dogs. A huge iced cake is standing in pride of place with ‘Happy Birthday, Jude’ written on it in swirly purple letters, and next to it is a pile of gaudily wrapped presents.

“Happy Birthday,” they shout, and I look up as they blow party blowers and let off streamers.

“Oh my God,” I whisper. “Asa, you shouldn’t have done this. You paid for the cottage.”

“Shut up,” he says through the teeth he has clenched on the party blower. “We wanted to, didn’t we, Bill?”

Billy kneels on the chair that’s in closest proximity to the cake he’s observing intently. “Peggy and I made this,” he says happily. “It’s got jam and buttercream in it, and Peggy says there’s so much sugar in it I won’t sleep for a week.” He looks delighted with the idea and I laugh. “Can we have the cake now?” he asks longingly.

“Well, not really, mate,” Asa says. “Usually you eat the other food first before cake and presents.”

He looks at me and I shrug. “That’s everybody else, not us.”

Asa stares at me, a huge smile breaking over his face. “You’re right. Bugger it, let’s eat cake.”

“Like a buff, bearded Marie Antoinette,” I say happily, and he laughs.

He lights the candles and I obediently blow them out. Then he lights them again for Billy to blow out, and then again, and again. Finally, he shakes his head. “Cake and presents.”

Perched on a chair, I take a grateful bite of the cake, groaning under my breath at how delicious it is. “Peggy can really bake.” I look up and find Asa’s eyes focused on my mouth, and I make sure to lick my lips slowly and out of sight of Billy. Asa grunts and shifts in his chair, and I smile at him mischievously, making him shake his head at me.

“Presents now,” Billy chimes, handing me the first one. “Open mine first.” I laugh and let him help me tear off the Toy Story wrapping paper. “Wow!” I say solemnly, looking at the box of water guns. “This is a seriously good present, Bill. Thank you.”

He nods happily. “It is good, isn’t it? Daddy’s bought you a really boring present, so I said we had to get these or you’d be sad.”

“Bill!” Asa groans, and I laugh.

“We’ll use them later, how about that? We’ll have a water fight and see if we can beat Daddy.”

Billy shouts yes and then hands me another present. “That’s from Peggy and Amos,” he says. I laugh as I open it to find a baseball cap attached by a straw to a hipflask. He leans towards me. “Peggy bought it though, because Amos said birthdays are pressing.”

“Pressing? Oh, I bet he said depressing.”

Asa laughs and hands me a square parcel, wrapped clumsily in brown paper and tied with a red ribbon. He watches me almost anxiously as I take it from him. I slip my finger under the sellotape,  then still and gasp as the paper falls away to reveal two books. “Oh my God,” I say reverently, looking at the cover of the first one. “Is this -?”

He nods. “It’s a first edition of ‘Frenchman’s Creek’.”

“This is too much,” I say through a thick throat. “How did you get hold of it so quickly?”

He grins. “It’s amazing how fast things get done when you’re a megastar like myself.”

“Well, most megastars would use that power to procure wild living, not books,” I say dryly, and then shake my head, lifting up the book and inhaling the wonderful old book smell. “Asa, it must have cost a fortune.”

He shakes his head crossly. “We don’t talk about price when we give presents.” He hands me the other book. “I got you this one too. It’s a first edition of a book of photographs Daphne du Maurier took of Cornwall at the time when she was writing. She knew the old Cornwall was vanishing and she wanted a record of it.” He shrugs bashfully. “I thought you might like it because you’re a fan of du Maurier.” He pauses. “And you feel things really deeply, I think. Things like nature and poetry and the power of the written word.”

“How do you know?” I whisper hoarsely, and he shrugs.

“Because I’m like that too,” he says simply. “I just never had anyone to share it with before.”

I grab his restless fingers that are pleating the discarded paper, and he stills. I squeeze his fingers hard. “Thank you,” I say fiercely. “For this holiday, this cottage, these books. Thank you for everything.” I swallow. “No one has ever seen me the way you do, and you’ve given me the first truly good memory on my birthday for a long time.”

He turns his fingers and grabs mine hard. “No, thank you,” he says almost shyly. “I get to share it and I don’t have very many happy memories either.”

We smile at each other until Billy breaks the silence. “Daddy, this cake is epic,” he says happily, and Asa stills.

“Oh my God, how much have you eaten?”

Billy looks down at the massive handful of sponge, and smiles a little maniacally, his teeth stained with purple icing. “Peggy got it wrong, Daddy. I think I might not sleep for a whole year with this.”

“Lovely,” Asa says faintly.