The Spark - Jules Wake Page 0,90

I returned home. Sam’s answer when I’d returned to the flat, after I’d told him everything, had been to take me to bed and make love with tenderness and care, reinforcing his love for me with every kiss and touch, and then cook me pizza and open a bottle of Prosecco.

I skimmed a hand over the silk fabric which was filmy around my legs. It was my favourite peacock-blue dress. When I’d worn it for Sam on our first date, it had been feminine and flattering. At Glady’s wedding, bold and beautiful. Today it was armour. The vibrant colour said bold, brave and I am comfortable in my own skin. I’m me. I’d also made an extra special effort, layering on a little more make-up than I usually wore and curling my hair to give it extra volume before putting it into a loose bun with wispy tendrils trailing around my neck. I got a kick out of seeing Sam’s eyes going big and wide when I emerged from the bathroom.

‘Will I do?’ I’d asked, and immediately hated that I’d asked the question. Even Sam’s eyebrows had gone up at the rare neediness in my voice, before he’d taken my hand and laid it on his chest. Sounds cheesy but it wasn’t; he understood things before I even said them.

‘You’re extra special gorgeous as Esme in my class would say. You’re always gorgeous but today,’ his eyes shone with warmth and kind reassurance, ‘you’ll definitely do.’ He dipped his head and kissed my knuckles one by one. ‘It’ll be fine.’ I realised then that we were both nervous.

And now, in the hallway of his parents’ house, him clutching a present in one hand and me clutching a navy-blue glazed pot of purpley-blue delphiniums to my ribs with one hand, he grabbed my free hand and repeated the gesture.

‘Right, let’s brave the rellies.’ He groaned. ‘And there are going to be a ton of them. Mum has three sisters and two brothers. It’s your job to stop me punching anyone that says, “Gosh, haven’t you grown.”’

‘I think I can do that.’ I laughed at his disgusted expression. ‘Now you’re making me grateful that our family is so small. Just Mum and Aunty Lynn.’ But even as I said the words, images of a long-ago family party drifted through my head. Dad’s family. Other cousins. Grandparents, possibly, although they might still be alive. Another aunt and uncle.

I despatched the ghosts of family past, and we rounded the staircase down the hallway and straight into the fray. There were a few people in the kitchen but we worked our way through them and out into the garden, Sam nodding here and there but striding forward in a way that deterred anyone from trying to engage him in conversation. It probably had a lot to do with the large, peculiarly-shaped parcel he carried, which looked as if it might escape from his arms at any moment.

‘Happy Anniversary, Mum,’ said Sam, handing over the gift with both hands into her surprised arms, as if filling them would ensure all the focus of the conversation went on the gift rather than awkward introductions. It had taken time and ingenuity to wrap up the beautiful life-size polished wood carving of a mallard duck about to take awkward flight – or maybe it had just come into land. Either way, as soon as Sam spotted it at the gallery in a small Devon town we’d stopped at on our way home, he’d not hesitated.

‘Well, doesn’t this look interesting? Thank you, darling.’

‘And this is Jess.’

Sam’s mum turned to me to me and I was grateful for the gift-wrapped barrier that put paid to any social dosey-doeing around whether we should kiss on the cheek, once, twice or three times, or just shake hands. She gave me a smile – the polite, company sort of smile that tipped up her mouth and skirted her eyes. Not completely warm, but not completely cold.

‘Hello, nice to meet you.’

‘Hi, yes. Erm … these are for you.’ At least I’d got the gift right because her eyes lit up with immediate pleasure – thank you Aunty Lynn – as she exclaimed, ‘Oh, aren’t they gorgeous?’ She beamed. ‘How did you know I love delphiniums? And what a pretty pot. Would you mind?’ She nodded towards a table on the edge of the patio for me to put the pot. ‘That’s very kind of you.’ With a charming laugh she followed me and turned to