Love Redesigned (15 page)

A couple of hours later, Daniel reawoke, this time under his own steam, and immediately reached for his phone to check his messages. Nothing. Although he couldn’t for the life of him understand why, he felt a tinge of disappointment that neither Holly nor Miranda had sent anything further.

Ninety minutes later, he was pulling up outside Holly’s house. He deliberately hadn’t thought long and hard about what he was doing. Or what Miranda would have to say about him rocking up at Holly’s place on the spur of the moment. Here he was, breaking his promise to Miranda, two days on the trot. She would not be pleased.
If she ever found out
, Daniel muttered to himself as he strode up the path to Holly’s front door.

He knocked and waited. It took Holly an inordinate amount of time to reach the door. When she finally did open it, Daniel couldn’t stop himself from staring. She was still in her nightclothes, wearing a simple short cream slip and matching robe tied loosely about her. Her hair was wild, and she looked like she’d been rolling around in the hay. All he wanted to do in that instant was whisk her inside and back to bed. Her sexy appearance was only somewhat tempered by her chomping away ferociously, obviously attempting to polish off a piece of toast in record quick time.

‘Hi,’ she said, finally swallowing with wide eyes. She was clearly surprised to see him.

‘I thought this might be important,’ Daniel said, handing her the DVD.

‘Oh, thanks,’ she replied, wiping toast crumbs on her robe before taking the DVD. ‘You didn’t have to come all this way.’

‘I was out and about anyway,’ Daniel white-lied. It suddenly seemed like a bit of an over-the-top grand gesture to come all this way just to return a DVD.

‘Well, I’m sure Harry will be pleased. Would you like to come in for a coffee?’ Holly offered.

‘Sure,’ he replied, smiling. That was exactly what he’d been counting on. Even he could admit to himself that he hadn’t driven all that way just to return a DVD. ‘I’ve got time for a quick coffee,’ he added, making a show of checking his watch.

As Holly went about making him a cup of coffee—whilst simultaneously tidying away the breakfast dishes, holding a conversation with him, and having one ear listening out for Harry—Daniel found himself studying her carefully. He was in awe. She knew her way around her small kitchen all right, and seemed to be able to multi-task in the extreme. He guessed that was one more way she’d changed since having Harry. He seemed to recollect her being a little more scatty and unfocused in the old days.

‘So, what’s your plan today, Harry?’ Daniel asked when his son finally materialised in the kitchen—wearing a patch over one eye and brandishing a toy sword.

‘Isn’t it obvious, Daddy? I’m going to be a pirate,’ Harry said in a deadpan tone, beyond his tentative years.

‘Oh, right. Of course. Now you mention it, your getup does kind of give you away,’ Daniel said, smiling. ‘What about you, Mum? What’s your plan?’

‘Me?’ Holly asked, placing a mug of steaming coffee down on the table for him. ‘Well, there’s laundry, cleaning, and shopping to do. I’d like to take Harry for a walk and feed the ducks, and then if I’m lucky there’ll be some time and some of my energy left to work on your house,’ Holly answered. It wasn’t exactly a rant, just a stream of mild frustration.

‘Oh,’ was all Daniel replied, not really sure what else to say. ‘So it’s not all glamour and glitz being a top interior designer, then?’

His quip was met with a rather haughty look from Holly, who began wiping down the countertops with considerable gusto rather than dignify his last comment with a response.

‘Need a hand?’ he asked, again without thinking through his offer too seriously. He fully expected Holly to say
no
, as he assumed she was set on proving that she could do everything herself. He was therefore surprised when she asked genuinely,

‘Are you serious?’

‘Of course I am,’ he said, forcing himself to sound genuine. He didn’t even clean his
own
house, and the thought of having to clean someone else’s wasn’t exactly appealing. He wondered if he could get Stephanie over to help out and play fairy godmother.

‘You’re on,’ she said, digging out a piece of paper from her robe pocket. ‘Here’s a shopping list. Do you think you could pop to the supermarket and pick up these things for me? I’ll give you the cash, of course.’

‘The supermarket?’ Daniel asked, feeling the need for further clarification.

‘Yes, Daniel. The supermarket. The magical place, just off the main roundabout, where we go to fill up the fridge,’ she said sarcastically, crossing her arms across her chest. Jesus, her boobs looked good, Daniel thought to himself, his mind wandering off topic.

‘Okay,’ he said slowly. ‘I can do that.’

‘Why don’t you take Harry with you? He loves food shopping,’ she added as an afterthought, with a wry smile.

‘Sure,’ Daniel agreed.

‘Yay!’ Harry shouted down Daniel’s ear.

Ten minutes later, they’d swopped Harry’s car seat over from Holly’s to Daniel’s car, and father and son were pulling away from a waving Holly. Damn, Daniel silently cursed himself, as a stiff breeze suddenly scooted up her nightdress, showing even more of her exposed thighs. If truth be told, he wanted to be finding out what lay even further north, beyond the hem of her flimsy nightwear. But no, he said he’d help her out, and help her out he would. Harry was a good kid. How hard could this be?

And Harry
was
a good kid. For the first five minutes—until the novelty of spending time with his father had clearly worn off. Good-kid-Harry was replaced in the blink of an eye by a demonic lookalike who was continually whinging about absolutely everything, and worse still, threatening to burst into tears. There’s no way in this millennium that Daniel wanted to take a tear-streaked Harry back to his mother.

‘I’m bored, Daddy,’ Lucifer Harry began loudly by the potatoes. Only one old couple looked over, from the melons. That wasn’t so bad.

‘Only boring people get bored, Harry,’ Daniel replied in a measured voice, repeating one of his mother’s old phrases.

‘Let’s play
I spy
,’ Harry suggested.

‘Okay. You go first,’ Daniel said, feeling clever for avoiding a meltdown.

‘I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with T.’

‘Right, let me think. Tomato?’ Daniel guessed.

‘Umm, no,’ replied Harry.

‘T-t-t-t-t… turnip?’ Daniel guessed, looking around the fruit and veg aisle for inspiration.

‘Umm, no,’ replied Harry.

‘Are you sure it begins with T?’ Daniel asked, suddenly feeling stumped by a five-year-old.

‘Of course. I’m a gold star reader at school,’ Harry said proudly.

‘I don’t know. I give up,’ Daniel said, after racking his brains some more and coming up empty. Surely Harry didn’t know what tamarind was.

‘I win,’ Harry said loudly, with a huge grin on his face. ‘The answer is broccoli, silly.’

‘But broccoli begins with a B,’ Daniel pointed out, making a mental note to discuss Harry’s progress at school with Holly. That was most definitely the wrong thing to say to Harry, as huge tears began to spill rapidly down his cheeks, accompanied by heaving sobs. At a loss for what to do, Daniel scooped him up and threaded him into the seat of the trolley, dabbing his tears away with his sleeve.

‘Don’t cry, Harry. You win. Broccoli begins with a T,’ Daniel heard himself saying. A middle-aged woman tut-tutted at him, having either overhead him miseducating his son or clocked Harry’s huge rollicking tears.

‘I want to go home, Daddy,’ Lucifer Harry announced a few minutes later, down by the fresh bread. He wasn’t crying anymore, which Daniel regarded as progress, but still, they had a fair old amount of shopping still to do. By Daniel’s calculation, he guessed they’d covered about ten percent of the store so far. If that. When had supermarkets gotten so large?

‘Not much more, Harry,’ Daniel lied as he tossed a baguette into the trolley.

‘Mum always squishes them first,’ Harry pointed out. ‘I can’t eat hard bread.’

Daniel dutifully retrieved the aforementioned tossed bread and gave it a squeeze. It was rock hard, so he quickly swopped it for one more suitable to Harry’s squidgy preferences. The tut-tutting woman from the veggie section noticed and gave him a disapproving look.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Daniel muttered as he pushed the trolley down another aisle, trying to simultaneously keep Harry entertained and look for the items on Holly’s list.

‘I want Mum,’ Lucifer Harry whined as they approached the biscuits.

‘Well she’s not here,’ Daniel snapped, impatience suddenly washing over him. A sea of grannies jumped out of their skins to look at him. It seemed the entirety of the supermarket’s silver brigade had decided to clog up the biscuit aisle with their strewn trolleys as they deliberated over which brand of chocolate bourbons they wanted with their cups of tea this week, thus making progress slow-going, to say the least.

‘Can I get out the trolley please, Daddy? I promise I’ll hold on to the side,’ Harry said sweetly. But Daniel should have known better. For it was Lucifer Harry who had mouthed these words. Daniel had no sooner hoisted Harry out of his metal cage than the little tyke was gone, weaving low, in and about the granny brigade with ease.

‘Shit,’ Daniel exclaimed, craning his head after Harry. ‘Harry, come back!’ he shouted in vain.

But there was no sign of him. Daniel now found himself stuck in a traffic jam of sorts, unable to move backwards or forwards. After plenty of prodding, gentle shoving, and lots of
sorrys
, he’d managed to manoeuvre himself and the blasted trolley out into a bit of clear air and began racing up and down aisles, looking for his missing son. It seemed to take forever, until at last he spied a familiar mop of curly brown hair on his knees, taking all the lids off the tupperware in the kitchen implements aisle.

‘There you are,’ Daniel said, rushing at the little boy.

‘Hi, Daddy,’ Harry said, barely looking up from his self-appointed lid-taking-off task.

‘Don’t you ever do that to me again. Do you understand?’ Daniel said sternly, grabbing Harry by the shoulders. ‘I was worried,’ he added more gently, as Harry’s eyes instantaneously began to moisten.
How can he cry so bloody quickly?
Daniel wondered to himself.

‘Okay, Daddy,’ Harry agreed, through a hiccup. ‘I’m tired, Daddy,’ he suddenly whinged.

‘Well, let’s just hide this mess here,’ Daniel said, furtively glancing from side to side as he shoved the dismantled tupperware back onto any old shelf. ‘And whiz through the rest of the shopping, so we can get you home.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Harry replied, giving his dad his best cheesy grin as he allowed himself to be hoisted back into the trolley seat without fuss.

‘Good lad,’ Daniel replied, returning Harry’s infectious smile. He breathed a sigh of relief that a potential disaster had been averted. He didn’t even want to think about what he would have said to Holly, should Harry have come to any harm.

As they were driving home, shopping mission successfully completed, Harry seemed to get a second wind and began asking Daniel all kinds of questions that Daniel really hadn’t expected, and as such wasn’t ready for, or knew what to say.

‘Do you love that lady?’ Harry asked, out of the blue, as they exited the supermarket’s labyrinthine car park.

‘Which lady?’ Daniel asked carefully, hoping the boy wasn’t referring to his mother.

‘That one in your kitchen the other day, in the black nightie.’

‘Oh, that’s Miranda,’ Daniel explained

‘Do you love Mirannnnda-da-da-da?’ Harry asked, playing with the pronunciation of the name.

‘Well, yes. Yes I do. Harry… Miranda and I are going to get married,’ Daniel said, forcing himself to bite his tongue whilst he waited for a response. Surely this was something Holly should be explaining to him.

‘Why?’ Harry asked, in that annoying way that five-year-olds did. A lot.

‘Because we want to be together,’ Daniel said, although it came out more like a question.

‘But Mum says she was cold in her nightie. She could tell. My mum always knows when I’m cold. Does that lady know when you’re cold?’ Harry asked, having clearly forgotten Miranda’s name already.

‘Umm,’ Daniel stalled, genuinely not knowing the answer to that, as a vision of Miranda’s pert nipples standing to attention at the breakfast table after his birthday party flashed across his mind.

‘My mum is always toasty and warm. And she
always
smells so good,’ Harry went on.

‘Yes, she does, doesn’t she?’ Daniel had to agree with Harry. He was definitely right on that point.

‘Does that lady sleep in your bed?’ Harry asked innocently.

‘Sometimes,’ Daniel answered. He got the distinct impression that, despite his formative years, Harry would be able to tell if he lied to him.

‘That’s nice,’ Harry said. ‘My mum has a friend who sleeps in her bed, too.’

‘What?’ Daniel spluttered, unable to prevent his volume from increasing.

‘My mum has a friend too,’ Harry said more loudly, mirroring Daniel, and obviously thinking that Daddy was hard of hearing.

‘Is it… a boy or a girl?’ Daniel asked, stumped as to how to get at the information he now so desperately wanted.

‘A boy, silly. Mum doesn’t like girls. He’s nice, and he’s
really
good at football,’ Harry said enthusiastically.

Daniel gripped the steering wheel probably about three hundred percent harder than was necessary. And what’s more, he was even gritting his teeth. What was going on with him? Why was he feeling so… well… jealous?

‘What’s his name?’ Daniel eventually asked, attempting casual, as they turned onto Holly’s road.

‘Umm… Jake, I think,’ Harry answered, screwing up his little face, racking his brains.

‘We’re back,’ Daniel announced, pulling up outside Holly’s place. ‘And not a minute too soon,’ he muttered under his breath. He darted out of the car, nearly forgetting that he had to help Harry and grab the shopping. He was in a hurry to give Holly the Spanish Inquisition about this mystery Jake guy, whom he’d only just discovered existed.