“You can draw your mummy or daddy,” she suggests, producing a box of crayons.
“My daddy isn’t here,” explains Noah politely, and gestures at Lorcan and Richard. “Neither of them is my daddy.”
Great. What kind of impression is he giving?
“It’s a business trip,” I say, smiling quickly.
“My daddy lives in London,” says Noah chattily. “But he’s moving to Hollywood.”
“Hollywood!”
“Yes. He’s going to live next to a movie star.”
My stomach plunges in dismay. Oh God, he’s doing it again. Even after we had the Big Talk. As soon as the waitress has moved away, I turn to Noah, trying to hide my agitation.
“Noah, sweetheart. Do you remember what we said about telling the truth?”
“Yes,” he says equably.
“So why did you say that Daddy’s moving to Hollywood?” I’m losing my cool, but I can’t help it. “You can’t say things like that, Noah! People will believe you!”
“But it’s true.”
“No, it isn’t! Daddy isn’t moving to Hollywood!”
“Yes, he is. Look, here’s his address. It says Beverly Hills. Daddy says that’s the same as Hollywood. He’s going to have a swimming pool and I can swim in it!” Noah reaches into his pocket and produces a slip of paper. I stare at it in disbelief. It’s in Daniel’s writing.
NEW ADDRESS
Daniel Phipps and Trudy Vanderveer
5406 Aubrey Road
Beverly Hills
CA 90210
I blink several times in bewilderment. Beverly Hills? What? I mean— What?
“Just wait there a minute, Noah,” I say, in a voice which doesn’t sound like mine. I’m already speed-dialing Daniel and pushing back my chair.
“Fliss,” he replies in his infuriating I’ve just been doing yoga, how about you? voice.
“What’s all this about Beverly Hills?” My words are falling over one another. “You’re moving to Beverly Hills?”
“Babe, calm down,” he says.
Babe?
“How can I calm down? Is it true?”
“So, Noah told you.”
My heart falls like a clanging thing. It’s true. He’s moving to L.A. and he didn’t even tell me.
“It’s Trudy’s work,” he’s saying now. “You know she’s in media law? This great opportunity arose for her, and I have dual nationality anyway.…”
His words carry on, but they fade to meaningless sounds. For some reason I’m remembering our wedding day. We had a very cool wedding. All ironic twists and fun details like custom-made cocktails. I was so concerned with making sure my guests would have a good time that I forgot to check the small detail of whether I was marrying the right man.
“… fabulous realtor, and she came up with this place under budget—”
“But, Daniel.” I cut him off in midstream. “What about Noah?”
“Noah?” He sounds surprised. “Noah can come out and visit.”
“He’s seven. He’s at school.”
“In the holidays, then.” Daniel sounds unconcerned. “We’ll make something work.”
“When do you leave?”
“Monday.”
Monday?
I close my eyes, breathing hard. The hurt I’m feeling on Noah’s behalf is indescribable. It’s physical pain that makes me want to curl into a ball. Daniel’s moving to L.A. with barely a thought of how he’ll maintain a relationship with his only child, our son. Our precious, charming, imaginative son. He’s putting five thousand miles between them in the blink of an eyelid.
“Right.” I try to gather myself. There’s no point saying anything else. “Daniel, I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon.”
I switch off and swivel round, intending to join the others. But something strange is happening to me. An unfamiliar, scary sensation. Suddenly a sound escapes from my lips. A kind of yelp, like a dog might make.
“Fliss?” Lorcan has got out of his seat. “You OK?”
“Mummy?” Noah looks worried.
The two men make brief eye contact and Richard nods.
“Hey, buddy,” Richard says easily to Noah. “Let’s go and buy some chewing gum for the flight.”
“Chewing gum!” yells Noah ecstatically, and follows Richard off.
I give another involuntary yelp, and Lorcan takes me by the elbows.
“Fliss … are you crying?”
“No!” I say at once. “I never cry in the daytime. It’s my rule. I never ever cryyy-eee.” The word disintegrates into a third of these strange, high-pitched yelps. Something wet is on my cheek. Is that a tear?
