I downloaded the “ten essential underground clubbing tracks.”
“Gdańsk,” echoes Luke, looking perplexed. “Becky…has anything brought on this sudden interest in Eastern European clubs?”
“It’s not sudden,” I contradict him. “I’ve always been into edgy music, you know that.”
“Last Christmas you made us all listen to ABBA’s Greatest Hits,” Luke reminds me.
“I’m eclectic,” I say frostily. “People can be eclectic, you know.”
Luke’s mouth is twitching, but I’m going to ignore him. I put a leather cuff on over my tweed jacket and look at myself with satisfaction. Meanwhile, Luke’s eyes have drifted downward to my new black boots.
“Now, those are great,” he says.
“Oh, these?” I shrug carelessly.
I’m not sure I can actually walk in these boots, but they’re the edgiest things I’ve ever possessed. I got them online, next-day delivery. They have killer heels, eyelets, metal rivets, and little chains swinging on the backs of them.
“They’re hot,” says Luke, still transfixed.
Ah. Right. These boots have clearly made an impression. Luke’s voice has got deeper by about five notches, and when at last he meets my gaze, his dark eyes are gleaming.
“Glad you like them,” I say, and preen a little.
“Oh, I like them.” He nods slowly.
Luke has a real thing for boots. I should have put these on last night. And now, just the way he’s looking at me makes me catch my breath. I stare back silently and feel my heart start to beat harder.
I’ve often thought I should write Becky Brandon née Bloomwood’s Guide to Marriage. I could jot down helpful observations here and there. And my first observation would be that love in marriage is like one of those wavy graphs where the pen keeps zooming up and down and you can’t predict it at all.
Obviously, I love Luke all the time, like constant thumpy background music. But those exhilarating guitar-solo moments when I think, Oh my God, I want you now, seem to come at random. (Is this just me? I must ask Suze.)
And this is a perfect example. Last night we had a nice supper a deux in the kitchen, which should have been romantic. But all I could do was stare at Luke’s upper lip and think, Why did you have to grow a mustache; couldn’t you have made a donation? Whereas now, this morning, when we’re in a rush and need to leave, all I can think is, I don’t care about the mustache; you’re my total love god. In fact, I feel quite hot and flustered. It’s the way he’s looking at me purposefully.
“What time are you back?” I ask huskily. “Do you have any late meetings?”
“I’ll cancel them,” says Luke, his eyes not leaving mine. “If you keep those boots on.”
“Mummy!” Minnie comes running into the room, breaking the mood. I blink a couple of times, then shoot a rueful grin at Luke. “Mummeeee!” She clutches my hands and pulls at them. “Where is my darden on a tray?”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I say. “It’s all ready.”
“I must dash,” says Luke, giving me a similar rueful look. “See you later. Oh, and the school sent an email,” he adds as he leaves the room. “Something about a nit check?”
Honestly. Every time I try to do anything edgy, the school has to bring up nits. I swear they’re doing it on purpose.
* * *
—
As I grab my trench coat out of the hall cupboard, I decide I’ll wear my trainers to walk Minnie to school and bring my edgy boots in a bag. Not because I can’t walk in these spiky heels but simply because the road gets a bit muddy in places. Also, I need to do about seventy thousand steps today, to make up for a few steps I haven’t quite accomplished recently.
Ooh, I wonder if sex counts? That burns calories, doesn’t it?
As we walk along, I’m half-listening to Minnie chatter about getting a hamper for Christmas and half-keeping an eye on the “winter garden on a tray,” balanced in my other hand. Every time I glance at it, I sigh inwardly. I meant to ace the next craft project, but I forgot about it till we got back from Shoreditch, and I had to run round the garden assembling a few hastily gathered twigs and berries. It doesn’t look like a winter garden on a tray; it looks like random crappy stuff on a tray.
As I’m helping Minnie hang up her coat, I see Steph enter with Harvey, and I wait so that we both head toward the classroom