past him and round the car to the passenger door.
‘Oh, Dan, I haven’t fixed that door yet so it still doesn’t open. You’ll have to crawl in through my side,’ I say, climbing out of the car.
Danny folds up his long limbs and clambers into the car.
‘I really should get that fixed. It’s a nightmare when I have clients,’ I mutter.
‘I’ll be off, Gracie Flowers,’ says Anton, and he bends down and kisses me softly on the cheek. Anton always smells nice. The perfect combination of musky man aftershave, olive oil and hops.
I get back in the car and belt up. Danny is already tucking into half of my bacon sandwich, so I take the other half and we set off. Finally.
It’s not until we’re on the M4 that I remember about the morning-after pill.
‘Danny!’ I shout him awake. ‘Where’s my pill thing? I’ve got to take it.’
‘What? Oh, babe. They wouldn’t give it to me. It has to be you. I went all the way down there for nothing. Lampard scored while I was gone as well.’
Bugger, I think.
A Foxtons estate agent would describe Danny’s parents’ house as ‘peacefully located in the beautiful Welsh countryside’. I would say that it’s ‘inconveniently located in the epicentre of absolutely nowhere’. The nearest postbox is over two miles away. The nearest village – and by village I mean cluster of cottages with a general store and a pub – is nine miles away. When they first bought it and Danny and I came to visit them, we couldn’t believe it. We didn’t see a soul on the road for ages. It was such a novelty we pulled over as soon as the windy road allowed and had a quickie. It wasn’t the most successful sex we’ve ever had, because at one point Danny got a bit carried away and toppled into a bush. Unfortunately, it was a bush of stinging nettles and he didn’t have any trousers on at the time. That was the end of the quickie. He lay on the back seat, moaning with his bum out for the rest of the journey, putting my Boots Protect & Perfect on his arse because he said it was soothing!
We haven’t had random outdoor nooky for a while, I think, looking at Danny, who’s still asleep. He could sleep through a world war. He’s really good looking is my Danny. He looks a bit like that bloke from the
Twilight
films who teenage girls faint over. He’s certainly pale, like a vampire, mainly because he works for a company that makes computer games, so he spends most of his time in darkened rooms staring at a computer screen. When Dad was alive he’d always make wild predictions about the man I would end up with, Prince William being a favourite. I maintained that I would only consider Prince William if he learned to play the acoustic guitar. All I wanted from a man when I was younger was that he should be able to play the acoustic guitar. Around the time Dad died he was keen for my future husband to be Will Young – he just missed him coming out. He never met Danny. Sometimes I wonder what he’d think about me ending up with a computer gamer who doesn’t play guitar, although, to give Danny credit, he did get his grade one recorder.
‘How’s work, babe?’ I say, trying to ease him back into the land of the living as we’re almost there.
‘Uh,’ he says opening his eyes and swallowing. ‘Crap.’
‘Why?’ I lean my hand across to touch his knee.
‘Dunno.’
‘Talk to me, Danny. What’s wrong? I thought you loved your job.’
‘Aw. Nah. Bored.’
‘Babe, maybe you need a new challenge. You could try another company or ask for a promotion.’
‘Yeah,’ Danny says, looking down. He stretches his legs and I move my hand back onto the steering wheel.
‘Why don’t you read
The Five Year Plan
?’
He turns to me and gives me a sleepy smile.
‘Yeah, maybe.’
I smile back and blow him a kiss.
‘You won’t regret it. You’ve had the same job for years. You’re bound to be bored. You need … to think big, aim high.’
‘Think big, aim high,’ he echoes.
‘Oh, Dan, I haven’t fixed that door yet so it still doesn’t open. You’ll have to crawl in through my side,’ I say, climbing out of the car.
Danny folds up his long limbs and clambers into the car.
‘I really should get that fixed. It’s a nightmare when I have clients,’ I mutter.
‘I’ll be off, Gracie Flowers,’ says Anton, and he bends down and kisses me softly on the cheek. Anton always smells nice. The perfect combination of musky man aftershave, olive oil and hops.
I get back in the car and belt up. Danny is already tucking into half of my bacon sandwich, so I take the other half and we set off. Finally.
It’s not until we’re on the M4 that I remember about the morning-after pill.
‘Danny!’ I shout him awake. ‘Where’s my pill thing? I’ve got to take it.’
‘What? Oh, babe. They wouldn’t give it to me. It has to be you. I went all the way down there for nothing. Lampard scored while I was gone as well.’
Bugger, I think.
A Foxtons estate agent would describe Danny’s parents’ house as ‘peacefully located in the beautiful Welsh countryside’. I would say that it’s ‘inconveniently located in the epicentre of absolutely nowhere’. The nearest postbox is over two miles away. The nearest village – and by village I mean cluster of cottages with a general store and a pub – is nine miles away. When they first bought it and Danny and I came to visit them, we couldn’t believe it. We didn’t see a soul on the road for ages. It was such a novelty we pulled over as soon as the windy road allowed and had a quickie. It wasn’t the most successful sex we’ve ever had, because at one point Danny got a bit carried away and toppled into a bush. Unfortunately, it was a bush of stinging nettles and he didn’t have any trousers on at the time. That was the end of the quickie. He lay on the back seat, moaning with his bum out for the rest of the journey, putting my Boots Protect & Perfect on his arse because he said it was soothing!
We haven’t had random outdoor nooky for a while, I think, looking at Danny, who’s still asleep. He could sleep through a world war. He’s really good looking is my Danny. He looks a bit like that bloke from the
Twilight
films who teenage girls faint over. He’s certainly pale, like a vampire, mainly because he works for a company that makes computer games, so he spends most of his time in darkened rooms staring at a computer screen. When Dad was alive he’d always make wild predictions about the man I would end up with, Prince William being a favourite. I maintained that I would only consider Prince William if he learned to play the acoustic guitar. All I wanted from a man when I was younger was that he should be able to play the acoustic guitar. Around the time Dad died he was keen for my future husband to be Will Young – he just missed him coming out. He never met Danny. Sometimes I wonder what he’d think about me ending up with a computer gamer who doesn’t play guitar, although, to give Danny credit, he did get his grade one recorder.
‘How’s work, babe?’ I say, trying to ease him back into the land of the living as we’re almost there.
‘Uh,’ he says opening his eyes and swallowing. ‘Crap.’
‘Why?’ I lean my hand across to touch his knee.
‘Dunno.’
‘Talk to me, Danny. What’s wrong? I thought you loved your job.’
‘Aw. Nah. Bored.’
‘Babe, maybe you need a new challenge. You could try another company or ask for a promotion.’
‘Yeah,’ Danny says, looking down. He stretches his legs and I move my hand back onto the steering wheel.
‘Why don’t you read
The Five Year Plan
?’
He turns to me and gives me a sleepy smile.
‘Yeah, maybe.’
I smile back and blow him a kiss.
‘You won’t regret it. You’ve had the same job for years. You’re bound to be bored. You need … to think big, aim high.’
‘Think big, aim high,’ he echoes.
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