Maxine gathered Ella into her arms. She was only small but she weighed an absolute ton.
‘What else?’ she countered, with a long-suffering sigh. ‘The rest of the rotten ironing.’
True to his word, Guy was back by eleven with the Indian takeaway. Maxine, having watched They Think It’s All Over, switched the television off and the iron on the moment she heard his car pull up the drive and promptly assumed the kind of saintly-but-weary expression which indicated that whilst he’d been out enjoying himself with one of his floozies, she had been hard at work for hours.
Her mouth watered as he unwrapped the brown carrier bag and lifted the cardboard lids from their foil containers. Prawn korma, scented and golden, was piled over pilau rice.
Massaging her back for good measure, she switched the iron off.
‘What time did they get off to bed?’ said Guy, turning his attention to the lamb dhansak and naan bread. ‘Nine o’clock.’
He grinned. ‘That means ten.’
‘Well ...’ It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what time he’d gone to bed, but she didn’t want to risk spoiling his good mood. ‘Ella fell asleep on the sofa and Josh thinks he’s the Cincinnati Kid. At this rate I can see my entire salary disappearing into his piggy bank.’ She pulled a face. ‘I wish now I’d never taught him how to play poker.’
‘If it makes you feel any better,’ said Guy, deadpan, ‘you didn’t. I did. Last Christmas.’
For the first time, Maxine realized, they were actually sitting down and discussing the children rather than engaging in a battle of verbal wits. The sparring subsided, she began asking suitably intelligent questions about Josh’s education and the atmosphere, helped along by a bottle of Sancerre, grew positively relaxed.
Before she knew it, she was asking Guy the question she hadn’t felt able to ask Josh.
He frowned. ‘Why? What’s he been saying?’
‘Nothing really.’ She crushed a poppadum and licked her fingers. ‘Just that you have lots of girlfriends, but none of them is as pretty as his mother was.’
‘I see.’ The dark blue eyes registered amusement. ‘Well, he’s probably right about that.
Although I don’t know about the actual number. 'Lots' sounds pretty alarming.’
‘Aren’t there?’ Maxine cast him an innocent look.
‘Lots, I mean.’
‘One or two.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve tried to keep it low key, for the kids’ sakes. On the other hand, I’m only human. And they’ve never seemed to mind the occasional ... visitor.’
‘Children are adaptable,’ agreed Maxine, reassured by his reply. ‘And it isn’t as if you went through a traumatic divorce. At least they know you were happily married.’
‘I hadn’t thought of it like that.’ Guy looked pensive. ‘Maybe it does help.’
Pleased with herself for having said the right thing, she nodded. ‘I’m sure it does.’
‘I could show you photographs of Veronique, if you’re interested.’
Maxine wondered if this was some kind of test. She didn’t want him to think of her as morbidly curious.
‘There’s no hurry,’ she replied easily, getting to her feet and taking his empty plate from him. ‘Maybe Josh and Ella will show them to me whilst you’re away.’
And then it was all spoiled. By the time she returned from the kitchen Guy was standing by the sofa with his back to her. When he turned around, she saw the crumpled photograph in his hand and the look of disdain on his face.
‘Why did you lie?’ he said coldly. ‘I wouldn’t have minded if you’d told me you’d already seen them. But why the bloody hell did you have to lie?’
The photograph of Veronique must have slipped down the side of the sofa when she had lifted the sleeping Ella and taken her upstairs. Since then, she had been sitting on it.
‘I’m sorry ...’ began Maxine. To her horror, she saw that it was not only crumpled, but torn.
‘Don’t be sorry,’ Guy replied, his tone curt. ‘Just be careful, that’s all. These pictures might not mean much to you, but they do to us. They’re all we have left.’
Chapter 10
Never at her best at the ludicrously early hour of seven in the morning, Maxine propped herself up on her elbows at the breakfast table and wondered how on earth Janey managed to get up at five in order to visit the flower market. It simply wasn’t natural.
And as for having to cope at the same time with two starving children and their picky, irritable father, she thought as she battled to stay awake, it was downright unfair.
‘There’s a pink elephant in my Sugar Puffs,’ squealed Ella, waving the plastic toy in Maxine’s face and sprinkling her with milk.
‘Eat it. It’s good for you.’
‘Don’t forget we’ve got to go and buy my batteries today,’ Josh reminded her, speaking through a mouthful of toast and blackberry jam and jingling the money in his shorts’ pocket for added emphasis. ‘Maxine, open your eyes. I said we’ve got to buy new batteries for my ‘
‘Gameboy,’ she supplied wearily. ‘I heard you. And don’t talk with your mouth full — you look like a cement mixer in overdrive.’
‘You shouldn’t have your elbows on the table,’ Josh retaliated, unperturbed. ‘Berenice says it’s rude. Doesn’t she, Dad?’ He turned to his father for confirmation. ‘Berenice says elbows on the table are rude.’
Having to get up at six-thirty evidently didn’t bother Guy Cassidy. Fresh from the shower and wearing a white linen shirt and faded Levi’s, he was looking unfairly good for the time of day. Although it was all right for him, thought Maxine mutinously; he was zipping off to Paris.
Whilst she spent the week looking after his monsters, he would be surrounded by beautiful semi-naked models
