Chapter 41

You have to take risks. We will only understand the miracle of life fully when we allow the unexpected to happen.

Paulo Coelho

Back in Dublin after the Waterford trip, my boss, Ivor, calls me into his office.

‘Congratulations,' he says immediately. ‘You've been promoted.'

I look at him in astonishment. I'd applied for a more senior position before I went to the Caribbean, but upward mobility within the Civil Service can be slow and tortuous, and with everything else going on in my life I'd almost forgotten about my application. Or at least I'd deliberately pushed it to the back of my mind because I didn't want to think I wasn't getting it.

‘Oh my God! That's great. Will I have my own team?' I beam at him.

‘Not here,' he says. ‘They're moving you to the airport.'

‘There isn't a chance of anything here, is there?' I ask. ‘You know how much I love the port.'

‘Not immediately,' he replies. ‘Of course you can apply for a transfer back here when a position at your level becomes available and we'll be delighted to have you, but you should get the experience there too, Izzy. It's good for your CV to move around a bit.'

He's right. Like him, many of the more senior people at the port have come from other areas within Revenue and Customs. It took a while to get him up to speed on how things happened here. But he's a good boss and he looks out for all the staff. It'll take me time to get used to the airport. Besides, I like a challenge.

Nevertheless, I'm dazed when I go back to my desk.

‘What did Ivor want?' asks Natasha as I sit down.

I tell her about my promotion and about the move to the airport.

‘You'll love it,' she says. ‘At least you won't be standing in a force ten gale hoping an irate driver doesn't mow you down.'

‘I'm excited, but I'll miss being here.'

‘Don't be daft.' She grins at me. ‘You've got to climb the greasy pole, Izzy. We all do. Until we decide we want to give it all up and live the simple life.'

I think about the promotion all day. It'll be some time before my transfer comes through, so I'll be working with the gang for a while yet. But things will shift between us. They'll know I'm going and I won't feel part of the team any more. It's the way it is. As I scoot back to Marino at the end of my shift, I also think about the impact moving to the airport will have on my personal life. The commute there from Riverside Lodge will be even worse than the commute to the port. I'm going to be spending half my life getting to and from work.

I know it's highly unlikely, but I wonder if I could persuade Charles to move somewhere closer.

I dismiss the thought almost immediately. I couldn't even ask him to consider leaving his beautiful home, especially as he's totally committed to redecorating it and making it ours. (He's actually been in touch with the interior designer I follow on Instagram. She's coming to see us next week.)

As I park my scooter and let myself in the front door, I think that perhaps I should move to Terenure now rather than waiting for Mum and Dad to come home. My life is changing. It's time for me to embrace that change and be positive about it.

I say this to Charles when I call over to him later that evening. I've brought a change of clothes for the morning, but I now keep a selection of cosmetics and other bits and pieces at Riverside Lodge so that staying over doesn't seem like a major event any more. He's delighted that I'm talking about moving in permanently, but is also taken aback when I tell him about my promotion and that it means working at the airport.

‘Congratulations,' he says. ‘You deserve it. You certainly work hard enough. I honestly couldn't cope with the shift work myself.'

‘Thank you.'

‘I bet you're thinking about the commute,' he says.

‘It did occur to me,' I admit.

‘You do know that you don't have to keep working?' he says. ‘I mean, I know you love it, and I'm not asking you to stop, but it's not essential.'

‘I've just been promoted,' I point out. ‘It's pretty essential to me, don't you think?'

‘What about when we have children?' he asks.

‘I was thinking that you'll be a perfect stay-at-home father.'

His eyes widen. ‘Are you serious?'

‘Why shouldn't I be? You told me you thought you'd be a great dad. Why not a great stay-at-home dad?'

‘I wouldn't be able to look after a child and write a book!' He looks aghast.

‘What about all the women who write books and have children?' I ask. ‘What do they do?'

‘I . . .'

‘I'm not saying you have to be full-time looking after the baby,' I say. ‘But you'll definitely be on hand, won't you?'

He still can't speak.

I go to the bathroom, and when I come back, Charles takes a deep breath and tells me that I have a point, and that if and when we have children, he'll certainly do his share. But, he says with a slight tone of terror in his voice, we'll have to plan it so it doesn't coincide with him being in the depths of writing. Or editing. Because he doesn't think he could do both.

‘Maybe your next murder mystery can be a domestic noir,' I suggest. ‘Where the wife murders the husband because he doesn't understand the nature of childcare.'

‘I do!' cries Charles. ‘That's why I'm so anxious about it.'

I laugh. After a moment, he does too.

I really think I'm starting to turn him into husband material.

Ivor tells me that it's going to be a month before my move happens, which means I'm still working at the port when Mum and Dad arrive home. I've been using Dad's trusty Ford to commute from Charles's house while I wait for the arrival of the new electric Kia he ordered.

‘You've bought me a car?' I looked at him in complete amazement when he told me.

‘I'm lucky that I only have to walk up the stairs to work,' he told me. ‘I want you to be able to do your commute in ecological comfort.'

I flung my arms around him and kissed him.

The day after my parents' return, I park outside the house in Marino and feel a thrill of delight at seeing the warm glow of light through the window that tells me they're home. I ring the bell, then put my key in the lock and shout to tell them I'm here.

‘Izzy!' It's Mum who hurries out from the kitchen and throws her arms around me. ‘How wonderful to see you again, dearest darling. I'm sorry it's been so long.'

She's followed by Dad, who joins the group hug and the general delight at us all seeing each other again, though I hasten to assure them that I've been fine in their absence and that Adrian and Cori needed them more.

‘They did need us,' agrees Mum as she leads the way back into the kitchen, where she immediately puts on the kettle for a cup of tea. ‘But, oh, Izzy, you needed us too.'

‘You can't be everywhere at once,' I tell her. ‘And I've managed on my own.'

‘You've certainly managed to surprise us,' agrees Dad. ‘Breaking up with Steve, getting engaged to Charles. Where is he, by the way? We need to meet him.'

‘He didn't want to muscle in on our first hello,' I say. ‘We can get together at the weekend.'

‘You certainly look happy,' says Mum.

‘I am.'

‘And you've been promoted.' Dad beams at me. ‘You deserve it, of course. There were loads of online stories about that drugs haul you were part of. Impressive stuff.'

‘It was,' I agree.

‘So tell me everything.' Mum puts mugs of tea and a large plate of chocolate Kimberleys on the table. I pull one of the mugs towards me, unwrap a biscuit and proceed to give her a reasonably full run-down of my life since I met Charles Miller.

‘He's certainly splashed out on the ring,' observes Dad. ‘It doesn't look like it came cheap.'

‘He's one of the most generous men you could ever meet,' I tell him, and then add that he's bought a brand-new car that will mainly be for me. Dad nods approvingly.

‘And the age gap?' Mum gives me a wary look. ‘That's OK?'

‘I don't even notice it,' I say. ‘What I do notice, though, is that he's a mature person. Appearances don't matter to him. He's not a slave to fashion. The only thing he's obsessed with is his writing.'

‘And his divorce?'

‘Coming along,' I assure her. ‘He's hoping it'll be signed and sealed by the summer. And we could have the wedding at his house. It's gorgeous,' I add. ‘I love it there. The rooms are amazing, and there's a fabulous garden.'

I don't say anything about the mews at the back of it. I'm suddenly imagining Ariel working from home on the day of our wedding, staring out of the window at the celebrations. I shudder.

We haven't heard anything from her in ages, and there's been no sign of her any time I've been at Riverside Lodge. She hasn't come out of the mews to take phone calls as she used to, and there hasn't been any hint of a Freedom Friday bottle of wine. I don't like to think I've vanquished a love rival, but I most certainly have put my foot down, and it seems to have worked.

We talk about Charles and the wedding for ages, then the topic switches to my brother and his family, and Mum and Dad produce photos and videos of the boys and Azaria that melt my heart. I say that I'll definitely have to visit and meet my niece and nephews, although it'll probably be next year by the time I can do it.

‘Have you and Charles discussed a family?' asks Mum, when Dad leaves the kitchen for a moment. I tell her about his terror of being a stay-at-home dad. She laughs, but when I say it won't be for a while yet, she advises me not to leave it too late.

‘Not that I'm advocating having a baby straight away,' she says. ‘But you can let it drift and then it's a bit more difficult, and, well . . .'

‘Are you telling me I'll be too old to have a baby?' I say. ‘Cori's older than me and she's popping them out.'

‘She was only very slightly older than you when she had the twins,' Mum reminds me. ‘And twins are in our family you know. They skipped mine and Jenni's generation, but your grandmother was a twin, don't forget.'

‘So now it's twins I'm having.' I make a face at her. ‘Oh, Mum. Let me get married first.'

‘Sorry. Sorry. I'm letting things run away with me.'

‘You are. And we do still have to wait for Charles's divorce.'

Because no matter how comfortable I am with moving in with him before it's made final, I'm certainly not going to have his children until he's well and truly disentangled from his agent-slash-ex.