Two days later, after much texting and calling and booking, Dan and I were due to set off for Melbourne. Having begged, borrowed and temporarily promoted his staff, Dan had managed to get a whole week off. He’d done this in quick speed against all the odds and knowing how much the café meant to him, I felt this was a real act of love. It also showed me how much he still cared and wanted to make us work despite the new circumstances.

Dan was collecting me from the hotel at 9 a.m., and I packed my case and said goodbye. I wasn’t sure where I’d stay on my return, but I wanted to see how things worked out in Melbourne and we could either plan the next bit together, or I’d head home. I didn’t want to think about the second possibility though right now, I was too excited about our road trip – this was what I’d come here for, to be alone with him, to get back to where we were and at the same time start a new page. It had been impossible with all his commitments to even have a decent conversation, and anyone who’s had a new business and a new baby will know if the business isn’t on the phone, the baby’s crying. I just longed for the peace to be ourselves again, uninterrupted.

I waited in the cool of reception for Dan to arrive, unable to sit still, feeling like a child waiting to go to Disney World. I was so looking forward to seeing him, like we were going on a first date, which in effect we were because this was a fresh start. We’d spent the last few days getting to know each other again and catching up on everything that had changed, and now it was time to see if we’d changed. I still loved him, and I knew he still felt the same about me, but this was the test, and if, given everything that had happened between us, we could take these few days to confirm our feelings, then we were on our way.

I was wearing my jeans and a white T-shirt, two gallons of anti-perspirant and a spritz of duty-free Chanel. I felt good, composed, happy, and thrilled to be heading up the coast to Melbourne, just driving together and taking in the breathtaking views. Sydney to Melbourne would take a few days, but we’d plotted a map and were stopping where we wanted to, whenever the mood took us. It was going to be instinctive, easy, no pressure – and Dan had even promised not to call the café like a bloody obsessive.

I kept glancing through the huge reception windows to see if I could see his hire car – all I knew was that it was white and convertible and that was enough for me. It would be just as I’d imagined, me and Dan flying down that coast road, the wind in our hair, sun on our faces.

When he hadn’t arrived by 9.30, I wasn’t too worried – he’d had to collect the car and fill it with petrol – so I distracted myself by texting Emma and Sue and Mandy and sending photos. Emma responded with ‘You go, girl!’ which made me smile and Mandy called me. It was 8.30 at night, back in the UK, and her opening line was ‘Hi bitch, I’m having prinks.’

‘Who’s Prinks… What happened to Jason?’ I said.

This caused her to roar with laughter.

‘I’m having Pre-drinks… Prinks, you know? A few large ones before I go out?’ she yelled down the phone. ‘Oh Faye, you’re such a daft cow!’

‘Oh,’ I laughed. It was good to hear her voice. No one else verbally abused me in such an affectionate way – well, thankfully no one other than Mandy actually verbally abused me.

‘How is everyone?’ I asked, feeling a little pang of homesickness.

‘Oh, everyone’s great. Mrs J has finally agreed to have a vajazzle… It’s her fiftieth wedding anniversary and she’s having the Eiffel Tower in gold nuggets. She’s gonna surprise him on the night.’

‘I bet she is,’ I said, imagining the effect that Mrs J’s seventy-year-old, nugget-encrusted ‘lady garden’ would have on Mr J’s recent bypass.

‘Oh yeah, and Camilla’s bought a new vibrator – huge, the biggest one they do. Had it delivered to the shop, needed two men to carry it in. I opened it in front of everyone. One word – CARNAGE!’

‘Oh Mandy, you’re so naughty! Camilla didn’t order it, you did, didn’t you?’

‘How do you know?’

‘I’m bloody psychic – especially where you’re concerned. Poor Camilla. Anyway, how’s Jason?’

‘Oh shit, Faye! Jase hasn’t texted me all day, he’s either found out about the other blokes, or he’s dead.’

‘Oh dear. How’s Katy Perry?’ I said, quickly moving on. Jason’s lack of contact sounded like a complicated epic and I really didn’t have time to hear it in all its explicit glory – I was more concerned with looking out of the window for signs of Dan.

‘Katy Perry’s good. She sleeps a lot and eats a lot and just chills with me every night, we’re best buds. Oh, and Flick gave her a Porn-star Martini last Thursday, she bloody loved it.’

‘Oh, I’m not sure cats should…’

‘It’s okay, Big Jess took her round the block to walk it off after and she didn’t even have a hangover the next day.’

‘Oh, that’s a relief,’ I said, wondering what kind of life Katy Perry was living now. Mind you, life with Rosie involved being force-dressed as Dora the Explorer and made to stagger round attached to a backpack all day. Swings and roundabouts really.

‘I just hope Katy Perry stays positive, Faye. After Lady Gaga, I worry about the furries – one minute they’re fine, the next they’re depressed and suicidal – but Flick’s going to give her counselling, so…’

‘Great,’ I said, trying not to think about what that might involve.

‘Anyway, just wanted to make sure you were okay,’ she said, and I was touched. Under all the bluff and bluster Mandy had a heart of gold and I thought of her like a daughter really. It reminded me that family isn’t always about blood – sometimes we make families with the people we’re with because we love them.

‘You’d have a ball here, Mand – the weather and all the good-looking young Aussies,’ I said.

‘Bitch, I’d have a few balls!’ she roared, laughing. ‘Yeah, wish I was there with you, now downing that amber nectar and showin’ those Bruces how to party.’

I couldn’t even begin to let my mind go there.

‘Talking of Bruce… Is he treating you well? Bet you can’t get enough of his…’

‘Yes, yes,’ I quickly cut in – I didn’t need a pornographic description of something akin to a bush tucker trial involving me and Dan. I felt weird talking about him after the revelations, and I wasn’t about to impart the fact he was a new dad to Mandy. I still hadn’t quite got used to the idea myself.

I glanced at the time: it was now almost 10 a.m. and my mention of Australian sunshine had started Mandy off on last year’s cultural extravaganza in Kavos. ‘Three words, Faye: me. pissed. On the beach. With two blokes… Hang on, that’s more than three words, that’s bloody millions…’ Fortunately at this the signal went (I reckon we’d been intercepted by Interpol, her stories so lurid they’d shut us down) and I couldn’t hear her any more. It was probably just as well, I may have needed to wash my phone when she’d finished her sordid tale.

Still smiling to myself at her antics, I wandered outside, leaving the cool lobby behind me and entering the shimmering heat. It bounced off the road and covered me in sweat, so after ten minutes I headed back inside, now feeling a little wobbly.

I decided to text Dan, but had no response. Was he okay? He was driving a car he’d never driven before, had something happened? I just couldn’t imagine what was making him so late. Dan had really worked hard to get the time off, this trip meant so much to him – so where the hell was he? If he was held up, surely he’d let me know so I wouldn’t worry?

I sent another text, just asking if he was okay, then paced the lobby for another fifteen minutes, wandering backwards and forwards, keeping my eye on the windows at all times in case he pulled up.

By 10.47, he was almost two hours late and I was beginning to feel sick. I’d had no breakfast because we were going to stop on the way – but the heat, an empty stomach and worry were always going to end badly for me. Then, at 10.48, I saw a white car pull up. I went to the window and peered through. It didn’t look like a convertible, but I thought it might be Dan driving, so I went outside. I didn’t want to rush over in case it wasn’t him, but when the car started beeping, I walked across the road with my bags. As I approached, I could see he was getting out of the driver’s side and smiling, which lifted me. I wanted to do a little dance, but managed to stop myself and just waved instead. He waved back while watching the road and beckoning me over when it was clear both sides and I ran across.

‘Dan, I’ve been so worried,’ I said, hugging him as he grabbed my bags and threw them in the boot. I was clinging to his arm, looking up into his face as he kissed me and opened the rear passenger door. I looked at him quizzically through my smiles: ‘What are you doing?’

‘I… Clover’s in the back. Her baby seat has to be there but she sometimes gets a bit fretful if she’s there on her own, so I was hoping you could keep her company. Just until she’s asleep?’

‘Oh, right,’ I said, climbing into the back seat as he ran round the front to get back into the driver’s seat.

‘Where is Saffron?’ I asked, assuming we were dropping Clover off to be with her mum. I peered over the side of her carseat into the baby’s face and my heart melted a little.

‘Saff’s not back yet, she wants to stay on a few more days. I’m a bit pissed off with her, to be honest.’

‘A bit pissed off?’ I snapped, thinking how irresponsible this girl was being. ‘I think that’s very reasonable of you.’ Then I stopped myself; it wasn’t fair of me to criticise this woman, it wasn’t my business – it was between the two of them. ‘So who’s looking after Clover while we’re away?’

He looked at me in the rear-view mirror: ‘We are, babe.’

‘We are?’ I looked back at him in confusion and then it dawned on me: ‘Oh, you mean she’s coming with us?’ I was taken aback – this was meant to be our time, me and Dan alone together for the first time in a long while.

‘I’m sorry,’ he was saying, ‘but the woman who usually looks after her when we’re both working has her three young grandsons to stay this week, and I didn’t want to leave her in a house with three loud boys who fight constantly…’

‘No, no, of course not,’ I said, reaching over the baby seat and touching Clover’s head with the tip of my fingers, the very thought of her being exposed to three rough boys filling me with horror.

‘So sorry, babe,’ he was saying, his eyes meeting mine in the rear-view mirror as he indicated and pulled away. ‘I know it’s not what we planned… You’re not too pissed off with me, are you?’

I wasn’t pissed off with him, but I was disappointed and a little resentful of Saffron, who seemed to pick up her baby and drop her the minute something better came along. I’d really looked forward to this time alone with Dan and no distractions and bloody selfish Saffron had ruined things. So much for the wind in my hair and the sun on my face. So much for snatched kisses and his hand on my thigh as we drove along the open road. But then I thought about the innocent little baby on the back seat next to me who had no idea her mother had chosen to stay away longer and not rush back to see her. It made me ashamed of feeling disappointed; here was a baby who needed a mother and for the next seven days it looked like that was me.

‘It’s fine, it’ll be fun with Clover on board,’ I smiled at him in the rear mirror.

‘Not quite the kind of fun we had in mind though, babe?’ I saw the twinkle in his eyes and my heart did a little dance.

‘Let’s stop at the first pretty place for coffee,’ I said, not responding to his comment. I wasn’t sure what the hell the nature of this trip was now. It certainly wasn’t going to be a sexual rekindling, but I was with him, so I’d take that. ‘I’ve been waiting for you for so long I’m starving – make that a pancake stop too!’ I added.

He laughed, no doubt relieved that I’d accepted our little passenger and was still up for the trip.

After about an hour, we stopped at a little coffee shop overlooking the beach and when we climbed out of the car we stood looking out onto the ocean. It was so quiet, save the squawk of sea birds floating high above in the endless blue sky. It was hot, but a slight sea breeze ruffled the air and I breathed in deeply, finally beginning to feel relaxed.

Dan was holding Clover, and I turned to look at them, taking out my phone for a photo: ‘You two look cute, as Rosie would say.’ I smiled and took a picture.

‘Hey, Mum should be in that too,’ a voice said. An elderly couple were wandering past and the woman was offering to take a photo.

‘Yeah, Mum, come over here,’ Dan laughed.

I awkwardly stood with them, no point in explaining to these strangers that I wasn’t Mum, and just said ‘Cheese’ when she commanded me to.

‘Thanks,’ Dan said, as I took my phone back from her.

‘It’s no bother at all,’ the lady smiled. ‘You just look so sweet, the two of you standing there with your baby. Lovely little family,’ she nodded, ‘have a great day now,’ and they were on their way.

Dan smiled at me and, taking my hand, we wandered into the coffee shop, where we ordered two stacks of mini pancakes that came with strawberry jam and whipped cream. Our coffees arrived first, and before he began his juggling act with a baby and hot coffee, I opened my arms and he gently placed a sleeping Clover in them. As she snuggled against my chest, I knew the real reason I’d wanted to stop was so I could hold her. I buried my face in her neck so I could smell her baby skin. Breathing it in took me back to my own babies and the smell was the fragrance of new happiness. As Dan drank his coffee and talked of the food we’d eat, the sights we’d see, I cuddled her, feeling that sweet baby warmth in my arms. There was no going back, I was hooked.

After our pit stop, or rather pancake stop, we carried on with our journey, driving along the road, long and winding, the vast blue ocean on one side and rainforests on the other. Dan took credit for all the beauty, boasting about how Australia had everything a person ever needed, and I knew he was pitching for me to stay. He didn’t have to try too hard – the views spoke for themselves, and they beat a rainy day in the Midlands hands down.

Arriving in Jervis Bay, we stayed in a fisherman’s hut and wandered the white powdery beaches, hand in hand. The original plan had been to scuba-dive here, where the water was aqua clear, but as Clover was with us, we wouldn’t be able to.

‘Sorry, babe, I promise I’ll bring you again and we can do all the things we said we’d do,’ Dan said as we sat on the beach.

‘Without Clover? I don’t think so. Miss Clover would have something to say about that,’ I laughed, and I looked at him seriously. ‘No, let’s come back here when Clover’s old enough to swim with us in that beautiful sea.’

He knew what I was saying and smiled, ‘Does this mean you might stay?’

‘I’m not sure, but I love it here… with you… and Clover,’ I said, feeling excited and a little nervous about what I’d just said. My heart wanted this so badly, it was just my head that kept telling me I mustn’t make too many promises just yet because I didn’t have the full picture. I’d never met Saffron, I didn’t know who she was; all I’d ever had was the rather basic sketch from Dan, who wasn’t all that comfortable talking to me about her. I knew that until I met her and spoke with her myself, I wouldn’t know her at all, and there was still a niggle in the back of my mind that she might still have feelings for Dan. If she did, then I wasn’t sure it would be wise to take on some gladiatorial challenge for her baby daddy. But for now, I put Saffron from my mind as Dan suggested we take Clover in the sea, and nervously carried her to the water’s edge, where the three of us sat in a little huddle, letting the water wash over our toes. This wasn’t how I’d imagined the day to be – but with Clover there giggling as the water lapped her feet and me and Dan watching on, I realised that perhaps it was even better than the day I’d imagined.

Later, after Clover had dined, we parked her buggy by our table. I left the wine list to Dan as she was in need of winding and belched loudly as the sun set over the white beach.

‘How romantic,’ Dan smiled.

‘Who needs oysters as an aphrodisiac when you have a belching diner at the table?’ I laughed, as I manipulated her back gently.

The wine arrived and as I rubbed Clover’s back, Dan sipped, and after each sip said things like ‘baked apple’, then ‘lemon… citrus,’ and so on. Then he leaned over the table and lifted my glass to my lips so I could share this with him.

‘Tastes like an Australian sunset,’ I smiled.

And when the oysters were brought out, he was equally vociferous. ‘Basically, most places in Oz serve dead oysters, shucked and rinsed – but these are alive, the way they serve them in France. Just taste that marvellous salty liquor, the natural oyster juice,’ he said, feeding one to me. It was delicious – cool and salty, like the seaside on a windy day – and in that lovely golden light, with the man I loved, the sea on my lips, a baby in my arms, I wondered if it was possible to be any happier.

Clover soon dropped off and Dan put her in her buggy, where she snuggled down.

‘Make the most of this peace,’ he said, pouring the rest of the wine. ‘We won’t get much sleep tonight.’

‘Is that a promise?’ I said, finally feeling like my old self, free to play with him.

‘I was talking about Clover’s colic, but now you mention it,’ he smiled, and began to gently run his finger around the rim of his glass without taking his eyes from mine. ‘Okay, I reckon we have an hour tops before Princess Clover awakens and screams the whole bloody place down. So what do you say to us paying up and heading back to our room?’

I nodded, my brain finally giving in to my body and telling me this was okay, I was allowed to sleep with this beautiful man and love him the way I wanted to.

So we hurriedly walked back to the room, speaking only softly, cursing a loud growling motorbike whizzing by in case it woke Clover, but miraculously, she slept right through it. Once in the room, we parked the buggy and left Clover there to sleep, while we kissed and lay on the huge bed in the middle of the room.

Dan’s touch was as gentle and loving as it had always been, but I sensed the urgency, the need, and it wasn’t just because he was against the timer of a sleeping baby, it was because like me he wanted this moment so much, had waited for it for more than a year.

He pulled my dress over my head and cupped my naked breasts, kissing me deeply. He pushed me gently onto the pillows and wrapping my legs around his strong, smooth back, I told him how much I wanted him, as he responded with panting groans. We were swept up in each other, rolling around the sheets, tangled up as we always had been, and always would be. After only a few minutes it was over for both of us, for now – we were so desperate for each other, we couldn’t hold on.

‘Nothing… no one has ever been like you,’ he sighed, his eyes damp, his chest shimmering with perspiration.

I felt the same – it had always been more than sex with Dan, it had been a final confirmation of love, and a knowledge that we were right together and nothing was going to stop our tidal wave.

He got up, wrapping a sheet around him, and checked Clover. ‘She’s still breathing,’ he said, relieved. ‘I bet you think I’m mad, don’t you?’ he laughed, walking back to the bed.

‘No, I think you’re a parent,’ I said, ‘and those feelings are with you forever, it’s like a wonderful curse. I’d still check Emma’s breathing when she slept if she let me,’ I joked.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his broad back strong and sinewy, his hair still thick and sun-bleached, and I sat up and crawled towards him, resting my cheek on his back, reaching around and taking him in my hand. He groaned again, and I knelt up, kissing his neck, sliding around and climbing onto his knee, pushing him inside me, his kisses hot, our eventual climax like a thunderbolt through both our bodies… but our mutual pleasure on low volume, so we didn’t wake the baby.

---

The following day, we turned up in Pambula, a village on the far south coast of New South Wales. Dan had been keen to show me this place with its artisan bakeries and coffee roasters, stopping for lunch at Wild Rye’s, where we had the Angus beef pies made with red wine – short, crisp pastry, hot, meaty, fragrant filling. Probably the most delicious pie I’ve ever had, and trust me, I’ve had a few.

Later, as we took a boat out into the Sapphire Coast to go whale watching, we congratulated ourselves on taking a road trip with a baby of just a few months. Our congratulations seemed a bit premature though when Clover projectile vomited. This managed to eclipse the spectacle of a huge whale – but a few muslin cloths and a bottle of water soon erased the mess. We missed the rare sighting, but I told Dan it was a good excuse to come back again, as he apologised and mopped himself up.

‘And you really must stop apologising for Clover,’ I said afterwards as we ate a late picnic on the beach – a delicious fruit bread from Wild Rye’s with a divine local cheese.

‘I just feel guilty – there’s so much to see and so much to do, but we can’t because of Clover. I know you don’t mind, I just wanted to do so much, show you everything…’

‘I’m with you and Clover – it doesn’t matter about what we see, I’m just having a wonderful time,’ I said, and I was.

Throughout our trip, Saffron stayed in touch. She called Dan every day to ask about Clover, as we fed sea eagles in Mallacoota, when we were walking through Croajingolong National Park, boating on the vast, tranquil Gippsland Lakes. For those few short minutes when he spoke with her I felt different, like my role was suddenly defunct. Our time together was wonderful, but for me, the very sound of Dan’s phone caused a shadow to drift across the sun. Away from Sydney, we were in another bubble, a pretend family of three on holiday, but where would I fit in when the holiday was over and our bubble was burst?

It seemed my heart was now buried in two corners of the world that weren’t home – with Rosie and Emma in Scotland, and Dan and my new love Clover in Sydney. Walking along the sweeping expanse of Ninety Mile Beach, I picked up shells for Rosie, and bought a necklace for Emma, and thought about how babies get their little tiny fists around your heart and don’t let go.

And through all those sleepy seaside towns, national parks and long, white beaches where our feet walked on untouched sand I tried not to think of the future too much, because who knew what twists and turns fate had in store for us?