Two months after our trip to Spain, Dan and I booked into a lovely chateau on the outskirts of Paris. I know this sounds terrible, but I didn’t even feel guilty about using the money from the house sale to pay my half. All those hours I’d slaved at work and all those nights I’d sat alone with Craig waiting for something – anything – to happen. If I hadn’t had the courage to cut myself free from my marriage, I would still be there, paying the mortgage, worrying about a pension while waiting for life to happen. Instead I was with Dan, two lovers in Paris. This was true independence, and I loved it.

Paris with Dan was magical and we had the most wonderful weekend. It was spring, and blossom covered the parks and pavements like confetti; the weather was warm with a tingle of freshness. On the first night, we ate alfresco at a restaurant by the Seine, watching the early evening sun fill the sky with blood orange and melt into the water, turning it into a million shades of red. We ate salty, garlicky mussels, drank very cold white wine and never took our eyes from each other… except to gaze longingly at the dessert menu.

That evening we clung to each other in the big, ornate double bed, entangled in crisp white sheets, overlooked by a glittering chandelier. Once again, I had to pinch myself: life had changed so dramatically since the end of my marriage. I’d never in a million years imagined myself at forty-five in a Parisian hotel room with my boyfriend. Funny where life can take you, especially if you give things a little push.

Later, I took a shower, and lost myself under hot, steaming needles of water, imagining what it would be like to live here, in Paris, together. I loved the idea of sleeping in the same bed as Dan every night, waking up together each morning; it just felt so free holding hands and heading out into the city for croissants and culture. One day we would live together permanently, side by side, reading to each other in bed, sharing crosswords over breakfast and making love in the afternoons…

I was suddenly shocked out of my daydream at the feel of his strong arms around me, his face in the back of my neck, kissing me under the steaming water. I turned, and within seconds, my legs were wrapped around him, as he gently pushed my back against the tiles. He lifted me higher, his hands on my naked buttocks as he thrust himself inside me, making me cry out in ecstasy, hot water pulsing down, the urgency increasing until we both reached a crescendo. I tried to hold on but almost slipped on the tiles, which made us giggle as I screamed ‘Don’t drop me,’ the water still cascading, my heart still beating.

We finally left the shower, my legs weak, my body exhausted and my heart full. He took the white hotel robes from their hangers and wrapped me in mine, tying the knot around my waist and kissing me again on the lips. He slipped into his robe and we lay on the bed, looking up at the huge ceilinged room, the rosette architrave, the crystal chandelier with its million lights.

‘I never imagined I’d stay in a real French chateau,’ I whispered into the darkness. ‘I didn’t even have it on my living list – it hadn’t even entered my head to put it on. I feel like I’m in new territory, unbelievable things keep happening to me. I blame you,’ I laughed.

‘Amazing what life will bring you, if you let it,’ he said, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

---

I was awoken suddenly the next morning by the alarm on my phone and wondered for a moment where I was. Then I saw Dan and realised my phone was reminding me about something important.

‘Rosie!’ I said. And he opened his eyes, knowing immediately what I was talking about.

‘Wait there,’ he said, ‘I’ll get the laptop. We can’t keep her waiting, you know what she’s like,’ he laughed, as he reached into his bag.

‘Hang on, you need to put a T-shirt on; Madam would not approve of you Skyping naked,’ I laughed. Rosie would have definitely had something to say and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it. She was three going on thirty and happy to share her thoughts with everyone and anyone.

Wherever we were and however long the stay was, my granddaughter insisted we Skype her while we were there. I’d like to say it was because she missed me, but I think it was more about her being a mini control freak – she just liked to check up on me. Regardless, we loved talking to her, and Dan always brought his laptop along, and was a dab hand at Skyping. For a man in his thirties he wasn’t perturbed by playing the role of granddad; he did it brilliantly, enjoying time with Rosie as much as I did.

Five minutes later, we were virtually in the living room at Emma’s, with Rosie regaling us about her new boyfriend she’d met at nursery. ‘It’s Josh,’ she announced, while nodding agreeably.

‘I thought your boyfriend was called Noah?’ Dan said, referring to the last conversation we’d had only the day before regarding her busy love life. Today she was wearing a feather boa around her neck and a tiara, her usual headwear of choice for a Sunday.

‘No, it’s not Noah, you silly boy,’ she shook her head so vigorously she made herself dizzy and almost fell off her chair. Emma was smiling in the background ready to catch her, or the laptop if it fell off her knee as she often became extremely animated during these Skype chats.

‘Oh sorry, it’s just that when we left the day before yesterday I’m sure you told me your boyfriend was Noah?’

‘Dam,’ she said, reprimanding him for his questioning, her eyes opening wide – she wasn’t cursing, she always called him ‘Dam’.

‘So, Rosie, what’s going on?’ he asked, seriously. ‘You breaking hearts at the nursery again?’

‘Dam… you’re streshing me out,’ she lisped, raising her still-baby hands in the air.

I could see Dan was trying not to laugh, the dimples in his cheeks were straining to appear, but he continued to speak to her like she was in her mid-thirties. Which she thought she was.

‘Sorry, Rosie, I just get a bit confused. You’re so popular and…’

‘Yes, I am,’ she nodded, ‘it’s ridicluss,’ she added, folding her arms awkwardly over her tummy. I had no idea where this little diva came from, Emma and I were far quieter than her and I couldn’t imagine it was from Craig’s side, but her confidence was amazing. I was a very proud grandma and just took her in, aware I had a beaming smile on my face whenever she was around. Then she changed the subject: ‘Dam, where are you, where’s Nana?’

‘We’re in Paris, darling,’ I said, leaning into the screen.

‘Pawis?’ she said, like I’d just suggested we were in a running sewer.

We both nodded eagerly at the same time; this three-year-old princess had us in her thrall and she knew it. But then she turned to Emma and asked for her phone, apparently the thrall wasn’t mutual.

‘You’re talking to Nana and Dan, you can’t speak to someone on your phone too, that would be rude,’ Emma was saying.

This caused a major eye-roll: ‘Mum, you’re being very silly, I want my phone so I can make a selfie!’ She looked back at the webcam and shook her head in despair at her audience.

Emma told her to finish her conversation on Skype first.

‘Nana, hugs,’ she said, reaching out her chubby little arms and pouting her lips into a kiss. I was being dismissed, which didn’t stop my heart from melting over the keyboard, but before I could enjoy this moment she’d moved swiftly on.

‘Dam… when are you coming home to play Dowa the Explowa?’ she lisped, referring to her Dora the Explorer video game.

‘We’ll be back tomorrow, get the iPad ready,’ he said.

‘Can we play for ages and ages and ages, and AGES?’ her little arms expanding wider and wider. It seemed Dan was in for a marathon session.

‘Yeah… stop swiping swiper!’ he said, alluding to the sneaky orange fox in the story.

‘Oh man,’ she giggled, they had their own language.

‘Have you been to Millie’s party today?’ I asked, but she was suddenly distracted by Katy Perry… the cat. ‘Katy Pewwy wants her tea now,’ she announced, unable to hide her boredom with us.

‘What’s she having for her tea?’ I asked.

‘Chips and chocolate,’ she answered, ‘bye,’ and with that, shut down the computer before Emma could stop her or speak to us.

‘Rosie, hang on…’ I started, but too late, she was gone.

‘We have been dismissed,’ Dan said, closing the laptop.

‘Classic Rosie,’ I smiled.

‘She cracks me up,’ he laughed and we giggled about how Dan had recently decorated the living room at Emma’s and Rosie had basically become his boss.

‘Every five minutes it was “when’s Dam coming to help me with the walls?”’ I laughed.

‘Yeah, and when she was stood next to me “scraping”,’ he used his fingers to indicate the speech marks, ‘she said, “Thanks, Dam, for helping me with the decowating.’

Age three, my granddaughter had more sass and confidence than I’d ever had and basically ruled the house. She adored Dan – I suppose he was the only father figure in her life as her real dad had dumped Emma when she was pregnant and Craig didn’t see much of her. He just carried on with his life after I left – nothing changed, he just stayed in the same routine. It suited him, and didn’t affect me anymore, but it meant he saw less of Emma and Rosie – he popped round sometimes when he knew I’d be out, but they weren’t close. I met Dan while I was married to Craig, but I was never actually unfaithful, our relationship started once I’d left. But I think Craig still felt betrayed; I don’t blame him, he just never expected me to walk away, he thought we could go on living side by side like grumpy siblings for the rest of our lives. I wasn’t prepared to do that. And now, with Dan in this lovely, easy relationship where things happened because we made them happen, I knew I’d done the right thing. I looked over at Dan, who was still laughing about Rosie’s commandeering of the wallpapering.

‘There was paint and paste everywhere. Katy Perry was licking wallpaper paste off her bum for days,’ he said, smiling at the memory.

‘I bet that’s a sentence you never thought you’d say.’

‘That’s kids for you,’ he laughed. ‘You find yourself doing and saying the craziest things… At the park the other day, she made me chase her up the slide as she came down, pretending to be the Hulk. God knows what the other mothers thought, especially as she’d insisted on wearing her tutu and cycle helmet.’

‘Darling, it’s what they’re wearing on the catwalks of Paris this year,’ I smiled. ‘You’re so good with her, you’d be a lovely dad.’ I leaned into him, putting my head back on the luxurious pile of pillows. Dan being a dad was something I’d often thought about, and it made me feel sad and a little guilty to think if he stayed with me, it wasn’t something I could give him.

‘I’m happy with what I’ve got… I don’t need any kids of my own, Rosie’s a full-time job for anyone,’ he said. ‘And I have my nephews back home.’

I noticed a shadow crossing his face.

‘Have you heard from your brother?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, he’s great…’

‘Really?’ I wasn’t convinced. His older brother John lived with Huntington’s disease, a hereditary condition that Dan had tested negative for. Their mother had died from the illness when Dan was very young and I know he found it difficult to talk about. He’d shared his feelings of guilt on discovering that he’d escaped the gene, but had problems facing his brother’s fate.

And now, when I asked about John, he was doing his usual avoidance tactic.

‘One day we’ll live there, me and you…’ he said, skilfully moving the conversation away from his brother. I knew not to push this, and I was aware he found it painful to talk about.

‘Yeah, when Rosie’s all grown up and Emma’s CEO of her firm. So, for now, tell me again about those waves on Bondi Beach…’ I said, relaxing into his voice, filled with sunshine and lemon cake.

‘Big as skyscrapers…’ he started and went on to describe how he and his brother had spent whole days in the sea as kids. I’d heard it before, but never tired of his stories of home. He’d come alive when he spoke and I knew he missed it and the past he’d shared with his brother. ‘Wrinkled from the water we’d be… Mum had no bloody idea where we were, she’d send search parties out and they’d find us in the waves.’

I looked over at him, his eyes shielded, but his mouth smiling as he spoke. This was a time before his mother’s death, and the later news that his brother also had the gene. I knew this was his happy place. Despite his wisdom, there were childlike aspects to Dan’s personality, and I wondered if in some ways he’d stopped growing up. He’d never really put down roots in his adult life, which I suppose for me was part of his charm, but there had to come a point when he settled down. Dan took his fun where he could, with little thought about tomorrow, perhaps because he’d seen the future reflected in the past and couldn’t face it?

‘What about your nephews?’ I said, thinking of the photo of two little blond kids in his wallet. ‘Do you miss them?’

‘Yeah, but they’re grown up now. They don’t need me as much, not like Rosie. I’m a sort of honorary uncle to her, aren’t I?’

‘Or the youngest granddad in the business?’ I laughed.

Dan stayed over with me sometimes at Emma’s, but it wasn’t for the romance. The walls were thin, and the rooms were cramped, and Rosie often got into my bed in the middle of the night. When you’re three years old and you’re running from the bogeyman it’s actually even better when sometimes nanny’s fun friend is there too. The first time she’d clambered in between us at three in the morning I wasn’t quite sure how Dan would take it, but being Dan, he thought it was hilarious and told her silly stories until she drifted off to sleep with her arms around his neck. I remember lying there in the dark smiling to myself, filled with love for both of them, touched by the way these two people worlds apart communicated so easily and happily. That night we’d carried her back to her room as she slept, only to be awoken an hour later by an indignant three-year-old, standing at the side of the bed, hands on hips, saying, ‘Well, that wasn’t very nice!’ before clambering back in, uninvited.

I told Emma the next day and she was mortified – ‘Oh, Mum, I’m so sorry, call me next time.’

‘Why, do you want to hear Dan’s bedtime stories too?’ I’d joked. I’d assured her it was all fine, and she could see by the way Dan played hide-and-seek and taught Rosie magic tricks that he was as good for her as she was for him.

‘So, you’re happy being granddad?’ I asked.

‘I’m… happy, yeah,’ he paused, and for a moment I wondered if he meant it. ‘I love Rosie, it’s just…’

I suddenly felt a prickle on the back of my neck. ‘What?’

‘Nothing, I just feel sometimes like I’ve… given up, you know?’

‘Given up what?’ I looked at him questioningly. The concern must have shown on my face.

‘I love you and I love being with you…’ he said, touching my arm to reassure me, but his words had struck me and I wanted to know what he meant, what he felt.

‘So when you say you feel you’ve given up… what do you mean?’

‘I mean… sometimes I worry I’m not going anywhere. I’m thirty-six and I don’t want to be forty and still living in a little flat above my aunt’s business. I like working in the deli, and when I thought I was only there for a few months I was happy, but it’s been about four years, on and off, and I just keep seeing more years stretch out before me. It can feel a bit… predictable, you know?’

Unfortunately, I did know, and I could see all the signs; he was feeling just as I had when I was married. I’d done the same thing: found work in a hairdressing salon, planned to stay a few months and twenty years later, realised I was still there. And the fact I’d broken out of the rut by leaving my partner and falling for Dan wasn’t exactly inspiring me now. Had karma come to get me? Was Dan seeing his forty-five-year-old grandma girlfriend as the reason his life was so predictable?

‘Do you feel… trapped?’ I asked. Wanting to cover my ears in case I didn’t like his answer.

‘No, no… not really.’

‘Not really?’ I said, my heart starting to thump in my chest. What was he saying?

‘I just sometimes wish we could pack a bag and run away, live on a beach somewhere, open a café.’

The word ‘we’ calmed me slightly, but I was unnerved by this conversation – even if I wanted to, I couldn’t just up sticks like he wanted.

‘Perhaps you need to go off and find what you’re looking for?’ I said, deliberately using the single word ‘you’ instead of ‘me’ to see how he responded. If he wanted to run away with me or without me, I couldn’t hold him back – he’d already given up so much for me. He’d returned from Australia to be with me, and embraced my family like his own… and being with me meant he’d never have his own.

‘I don’t know what I’m looking for though,’ he was saying. ‘I kinda thought I’d be doing something with my life by now.’ He turned to me, and still seeing the worried look on my face, touched my cheek. ‘Hey, it’s all good with us, babe. Everything’s great, I promise.’

I gave him a sideways glance – was he really okay? And if everything was all good with us, why did he want to run away?

I smiled, eager to believe he was happy and everything was fine; we were in Paris and we were in love. Me and Dan were bulletproof, nothing bad could ever happen to us… could it?

The next day, we walked hand in hand to the Pont des Arts, where we tied a lovelock to the bridge, along with all the others tied on by lovestruck couples. I wondered what their stories were and I hoped they were as happy as us. Then with a jolt I remembered what he’d said the night before and tried not to think about the possibility that he might not be fulfilled. But then how could he be? He was working and living in a shop in the Midlands that sold fancy cheese, and as much as he loved cheese and everything about it, there was more to life. We both knew he had this dream of having his own café, and making something of his life, but it wasn’t going to happen here. His dream was a café in Sydney Harbour, life under a blue sky, near an even bluer sea, a surfboard under his arm, a million recipes in his head… I just hoped this feeling would pass and that he could wait it out with me until we could run away together one day when the time was right. And who knew when that would be? I wasn’t leaving Emma as a single mother or walking away from Rosie’s childhood. We threw our key into the river and I made a wish.

‘It’s a sign of eternal love,’ Dan said, gazing out onto the water where our key had just sunk. I stared out for a long time, wondering how many keys were lying on the bottom of the riverbed, belonging to couples who’d said goodbye.

We stood for a long time, arm in arm, until dusk fell and the sun began bleeding into the river and I wanted the world to stop here and now by the swirling reds and oranges where we’d laid our hearts to rest. But it didn’t – the world moved on, and though I didn’t know it then, this had been a very precious weekend, because life as we knew it was about to change.