We chatted easily in his Porsche during the thirty minute or so drive from the gigantic airport to the Jumeirah area of Dubai and I persuaded myself that our relationship was and would be for the holiday, mother and son. Well by the time we got to Peter’s apartment block I had persuaded my head that was the case, but I still had doubts about my body and I was pleased that I was wearing a sweater!
As most things are in Dubai, the apartment was luxurious, beautifully laid-out, decorated and furnished and had great views along the marina. My room had a large window overlooking the busy city and though tight was ample though, both that and Peter’s room had bathrooms en suite. Placing my suitcase on the bed that I noted was turned down, Peter explained space is saved on the sleeping areas to provide more for the living quarters saying as he caught my eye.
“After all you do more in the living area than the sleeping don’t you?”
I think we both realised the double meaning but we let it pass.
“Would you like something to eat mum?”
“No the airline fed me well so I’m fine.”
“Let’s have a drink then and we can get to bed.”
Again there was a pregnant silence.
“What time do you get up?”
“Friday tomorrow so whenever you want, I thought maybe we would go to one of the brunches at a hotel.”
“I meant normally.”
“Oh work days?”
“Yes.”
“Five-thirty in the summer when we start at seven, and six thirty in the winter. But tomorrow mum sleep until you want to.”
He poured us glasses of white wine.
“Perhaps sit outside, it’s not too hot yet.”
“So, is it usually hot at night?” I asked following him out onto the small balcony looking down on the water.
There was a light breeze that brought up the smell of water which was pleasant and refreshing.
“Christ yes, in the summer it’s mostly near forty most nights.”
I did the quick calculation of doubling Celsius and adding twenty-eight to convert to Fahrenheit and thought ‘wow over a hundred.’
“And quite humid, so outside life ends in May, after that everything wherever possible is indoors fun.”
As he said what again could have a double or suggestive meaning our eyes caught but nothing was said.
We finished the first glasses of wine that he refreshed as I filled him in on the family news and what was happening at home and then went to bed.
With the four-hour time difference it was early for me so I took ages to get to sleep. At one point I got up as I had forgotten to slip into my nighty. At home and usually wherever I go I sleep naked but thought it more prudent to wear something at Peter’s – just in case. Inevitably, I suppose, lying in bed just a few feet from my son I had very lurid thoughts about him and us. I had feared this before accepting his invitation, but at the same time I had welcomed it wondering whether the change of scene would change our thinking. Time and again before arriving here I had thought. ‘Would anything happen, is it all in my mind or in his as well? And if we did do anything what would happen next?’ God it was so complicated, daunting and worrying.