Didi said, ‘No wonder you can’t get to sleep. What did you say? Are you going to?’
He looked at her. ‘I told him it’d take months. Easier to put the place up for auction and find somewhere else for him to live.’
‘So is that what’s happening?’
‘You’d think it would make the most sense, wouldn’t you? But he doesn’t want to do that. The only place he wants to live is in the house where we grew up together as a family.’
‘People do that, though, don’t they? Go back to their roots, because that’s where their memories are.’ Didi nodded; she could understand the longing to return. She watched Shay’s gaze follow the silhouette of the rooftops against the sky. ‘Does it feel strange, being here again?’
‘Strange and familiar at the same time.’ He indicated the hotel in front of them. ‘This place smells exactly the same as it always did.’
She nodded. ‘I know. Woodsmoke, old stone, beeswax polish and fresh laundry. It’s my favourite smell in the world.’
‘I’m going to have another drink. Can I get you one?’ Shay emptied his tumbler and rose to his feet.
‘I’ll have a red wine. Thanks.’
Waiting for him to return, Didi stretched her legs out in front of her and studied the stars overhead. Beneath her clasped hands resting on her ribcage, she could feel her heart thudding slightly faster than usual. Why had she come down here? Professional concern for a guest at the hotel? Or was she bursting with curiosity, longing to learn more about Shay and the man he’d become? She already knew the answer to that. It was an unnerving sensation, being thirty-one and feeling like an eighteen-year-old again.
Through the open side door, she heard the clink of a bottle, followed by the discreet sound of the lid being opened and closed on the wooden honesty box. When he returned, Shay leaned over her shoulder to place her glass of Montepulciano on the table.
‘This might sound weird,’ he said, ‘but you smell just the same too.’
Her stomach flipped, but she said lightly, ‘Am I supposed to say thank you for that?’
He smiled. ‘I’m talking about in a good way. Just saying, if I was blindfolded in a crowded room, I’d still recognise you.’
Didi took a sip of wine, then a bigger sip to give herself a moment to calm down. ‘I can’t believe you haven’t been back before now.’
‘It was easier to stay away.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘Did you ever ask my dad?’
‘Yes! He wouldn’t tell me.’
‘Amazing. He said he hadn’t, but I never really knew for sure. I went to Australia.’
‘Australia!’ She’d imagined a lot of destinations, but never that one.
‘I applied for a working holiday visa. Worked in Melbourne for six months, then Sydney for another six. When I came back to the UK, I took jobs in construction around the country.’
‘Construction.’ Didi digested this. Out of everyone in their year at school, he’d ended up with the best A-level grades, and had received unconditional offers from three of the top universities in the country.
Shay shrugged. ‘Nothing wrong with that. It taught me a lot. I also set up an IT consultancy in my spare time, which did well. I moved to London and carried on with that for a few years, building up the business. Then I developed an idea for a dating app, which took off.’
A new surprise at every turn; she’d definitely never imagined him doing anything like that. ‘But I searched for you online . . . really searched. And you aren’t anywhere.’
He nodded patiently. ‘You searched for Shay Mason. And what did you find?’
‘Just loads of results in local newspapers about your dad getting arrested, going to court, going to prison again. But it was always him, never you.’ Shay’s ancestors might have left Ireland a century ago, but the name had been faithfully passed down through the generations.
‘And any potential business clients looking me up would have found exactly the same thing. So call me a pessimist, but I did feel it might put them off the idea of dealing with me. Can you remember my middle name?’
What a stupid question. She’d spent months silently saying his full name to herself, doodling it in the margins of exercise books and on notepads. ‘Stefan.’ At the risk of sounding like a complete stalker, she said, ‘I looked up Stefan Mason too.’
‘I changed it to Steven. Kept it simple.’
Didi nodded. ‘OK. So do we call you Steven now?’
‘No need. Shay’s fine.’
She had to know. ‘Did you ever look me up?’
Another glimmer of a smile. ‘I looked up this hotel. And there you were.’
Didi spread her hands, ta-daaa. ‘Here I am.’
‘Looking good.’
Only good? Not great? Or incredible?
‘Thanks.’ She took a drink. ‘I still can’t believe you started a dating app. Do you use it yourself?’
Shay shook his head. ‘No.’
‘But it’s going well?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘Fait.’
‘You’re kidding.’ A small electric shock zapped down her spine. Fait was an app everyone knew. It was an app she’d used herself. It worked on the premise that although looks were obviously important when you wanted to meet someone new, how they sounded played a significant part too, so along with submitting a photo, users were invited to upload a ten-second audio file of their voice. If another subscriber then liked what they’d seen and heard, they shared their interest with you.
‘I was on Fait for a while, a couple of years ago,’ she said.
‘Were you?’ His innocent eyebrows made her wonder if he’d already been aware of this. ‘And how did that work out for you?’
‘OK. I mean, I didn’t meet the love of my life, but I met a couple of nice guys. Hang on, though, didn’t I see something recently about it being taken over by You-Me?’
‘You did. I sold the company to them. The deal went through a fortnight ago.’
You-Me was the biggest dating app on the planet. Didi took another gulp of red wine as what Shay was telling her began to sink in.
‘So did they pay you . . . a fair amount?’
The laughter in his eyes was the same as it ever was. ‘I think we can safely call it a fair amount.’
Blimey.
‘Could you buy this hotel outright if you wanted to?’
‘I could.’
‘How does that feel?’
‘Feels great,’ said Shay.
It must do. She felt compelled to say it. ‘Mum and Dad never really thought you had anything to do with what happened.’
He looked sceptical. ‘I don’t think that’s quite true, is it?’
‘It is!’
‘They were never completely sure. There was always that niggle of doubt. Be honest.’
‘But they liked you, they employed you.’
‘That’s what your father told me when he called me into his office.’ Shay paused. ‘Then he said, “And now this happens.”’
Oh God. Didi winced at the implied betrayal of trust; she remembered that terrible afternoon as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. Obviously he did too. ‘I’m sorry.’