‘This is all your fault.’ Millie turned on Sophie. ‘What do you need a sleepover for? You’re not ten any more.’
‘Oh just shut up you.’ Sophie slammed the dishwasher door closed and stomped upstairs.
‘Sophie, have you tidied your bedroom, and is that bathroom of yours clean?’ Hilary yelled.
‘It’s fine, I’ll do it tomorrow.’
‘You certainly will do it tomorrow if your friends are coming over,’ Hilary assured her.
‘They won’t mind. Their bedrooms are just as untidy.’
‘Well I mind. I have some standards. I don’t want them going home saying our house is a tip,’ Hilary shouted up the stairs and was sure she heard a muttered, ‘Oh piss off.’
Hilary’s lips thinned and she was ready to run up the stairs and have it out with Sophie for her lack of respect. No one in her family respected her, she fumed, spraying Jif into the sink and scrubbing the tea stains around the plughole. They made it look so easy on those silly TV ads, for household cleaning agents, that assumed women were morons. She scrubbed aggressively, venting her annoyance on her dirty sink, and deciding that first thing on Monday morning she was getting a new cleaner.
How nice for Niall to be out playing at a session on Friday night, leaving her to sort everything for the weekend as usual. He needed to cop on to himself a bit more and muck in. She was damned if she was doing his or the girls’ washing this weekend, she decided, throwing tea towels and dishcloths into the washing machine. And he could press his own trousers while he was at it. That was a bit passive-aggressive, she thought crossly. She should just have it out with him. Hilary hated rows, and it would turn into a row because Niall would get defensive and irritable, knowing she was right, and there’d be an atmosphere, and sometimes it just wasn’t worth it, she thought glumly, fed up with everything and everyone. Did Colette realize just how lucky she was with her housekeeper, and her Town Cars to whisk her wherever she needed to go? And her long weekends in Nantucket? Some people had all the luck. She tied a knot in the ponging bin bag and hauled it out to the black bin, another chore Niall should have done, Hilary fumed resentfully.
When she finally ordered their takeaway, all the shopping had been put away, the hall had been cleared and the living room was relatively tidy. She was starving. She made up the shredded crispy duck pancakes while a sullen Millie dished out the lemon chicken, egg fried rice and chow mein.
Millie took her plate and marched out into the hall to take her meal upstairs. Hilary took a deep breath, ready to remonstrate with her. Meals were not allowed to be eaten in bedrooms. But she stopped. Her daughter looked pale and tired, she had her period, and there had been enough shouting and arguing. It was Friday night. They were all tired. Enough was enough. She took her own plate to the sofa, and Sophie followed her and sat in the armchair. They ate their meal in silence, lost in their own thoughts.
Colette lay sprawled on her queen-sized bed, the sun slanting through her apartment windows, reflecting on the Murano glass vase that held an arrangement of peony roses. Normally the sight would give her pleasure but she was too troubled to notice the beauty and simplicity of the arrangement. She studied a photo of herself and a smiling, brown-eyed, straight-nosed, square-jawed, broad-shouldered young man with his arms around her. It was the happiest time of her life. She had been in love, in lust, completely confident in her allure for Rod. And then, out of the blue, he’d told her he was ending it. He wanted to ‘concentrate on his studies’. Bitterness rose in her at the memory. Concentrate on that little fat bogger was more like it. Had he married his red-headed nurse?
Tears slid down Colette’s cheek. Rod had confirmed what she had always known, that men could not be trusted. No man was capable of being faithful. She couldn’t be sure, but she suspected Des had the odd dalliance or two. He hadn’t given her any reason to think so, but she had her suspicions. Extra-long hours at the office. Working out more than usual. A keener attention to his appearance.
She wouldn’t ever let on to Hilary though. Some things you had to keep to yourself. No doubt Hilary trusted Niall one hundred per cent. She was a fool. Who was to say he didn’t dally with some of the women who enjoyed his music sessions? Colette had seen how they’d responded to his easy charm. She’d caught him giving her the once-over a few times. If she put her mind to it she could seduce Niall Hammond, Colette thought dismissively, wiping her eyes. It wasn’t seducing men that was the problem, it was keeping them that was difficult.
Hilary was right though. If she had any sense she would stay well away from her ex-boyfriend. To go down that road again was more than she could bear.
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-O
NE
‘Well that was tasty, son. Very tasty indeed – you’re a dab hand at the cooking,’ Nancy praised, wiping the last bit of sauce from her plate with a piece of Vienna roll. Although she had enjoyed the chicken dish, her stomach was unsettled at the thought of what was to come.
‘It’s so simple
