

### Chloe Alden –Dennis

## The Hill

Chapter 1

So, there we were.

31, The Hill.

Our new home.

We had worked hard for this house.

We had lived in some real shit holes before we had reached this point.

My husband and I smiled as the sweaty teenaged estate agent, clad in a cheap, grey, shiny suit and what looked like his old school shoes dropped the keys into my hand.

Being made redundant was probably the best thing that could have happened to me as the pay off had afforded us this; a wonderful five bedroom house in a very desirable area.

I had a walk in wardrobe; I could actually go right in.

It would be the setting for many happy childhood years for our two little girls.

There was a beautiful garden where they could giggle and run free.

It would be the setting summer parties on the patio and magical Christmas's complete with a big Norwegian blue tree and the smell of cinnamon and citrus fruit lingering on the love filled air.

New friends would pop in for tea and cakes.

It would be a place filled with laughter and joy.

Everyone would want to come here.

Our sanctuary. Our home.

However, this was not how things turned out at all.

31, The Hill was the setting for death.

Death and sadness that nearly burst our dream home bubble.

Conflict and jealousy. Break ups and make ups. Secrets and lies.

This was not to mention the dirty knickers that I never want to think about again.

There were tears and more tears and before anyone could find another box of tissues there were more tears.

Don't get me wrong, on reflection the whole sequence of events that unfurled were not without humour.

Oh, we did laugh.

But they also chilled me to the bone and without my husband, my little girls and a fridge full of wine I may very well have been in Holland by now.

Holland? You say.

Yes Holland.

The chaos and turmoil nearly tipped me over the edge of a sheer precipice.

I clung on by my fingernails and still managed to hold a glass of Rose without spilling a drop.

My dream home? The aspirational living? The walk-in wardrobe?

That summer, I only had one thing to say about The Hill.

I hated the bastard hill.

Monday morning, I had ten minutes to get down The Hill and to Little Angels Pre-school with Maisy. She not only had her shoes on the wrong feet, but was wearing one shoe I had never seen before. It looked like it may have once belonged to a broad footed eight year old.

'Where did that shoe come from?' I said.

I then realised that waiting for an answer would eat into our rapidly diminishing time. It may result in me removing the enormous shoe and setting off to hunt for appropriately sized footwear.

No time. I really couldn't be late again.

I was getting looks.

Even a drunk-in-the-morning mum, who had used her sister's address to get her daughter into this prestigious playgroup, had given me a hard glare yesterday as she floored the accelerator on her Volkswagen Golf. I wondered about daytime drinking as she hurtled past the two of us as we ran breathlessly through the car park. Maybe a few swigs of strong lager first thing in the morning would assist in improving our preschool tardiness.

Being pissed would mean if we were late, I likely wouldn't care.

The baby had been bundled into the three wheeler buggy, crusty milk around her lips and she was still wearing the sleep suit from last night. I would bath and dress her in a cute outfit later but for now I covered all but her head in a blanket and began our journey down the hill.

I had done this walk five days a week for two weeks and my thighs and arms still ached but I was annoyingly no slimmer. As we descended it took everything I had to hang onto the buggy to stop it hurtling away down the slope quicker than Compo in a tin bath. My knuckles were white from the intense gripping that was required and I walked in a half crouch that was not only uncomfortable but ungainly. I could not help but stick my bum and chest out as I stepped, not in a sexy way but more akin to someone who was suffering from painful piles.

I was dressed in my loose black top that I can wear with my jeans that are slightly tight and it goes some of the way to hiding my tummy tyre. The jeans can only be worn out in public for short bursts before the breathing in becomes too much and I am forced to dash indoors to the solace of some well worn tracksuit bottoms.

Stupidly, I had forgotten the pain from yesterday and I had again opted to wear flip flops which were cutting away at the skin between big toe and number two toe like a cheese wire as I battled my way down the gradient.

Maisy was marching along surprisingly well in her bizarrely mismatched shoes and we had had at least seven repetitions of the same conversation since the front door slammed behind us.

'Where are we going mummy?'

'Preschool'

'Are we going to preschool?'

'Yes, Maisy'

She told me about her friend Ella as we cantered down the road.

'Ella has an iPhone and it has two hundred apps, Mummy. It also turns into a mirror so she can check her lipstick'

I eyed Maisy with suspicion sensing either porky pies had been told or this Ella belonged to drunk-in-the-morning mum. Therefore I could be justified in thinking that giving an infant a three hundred pound phone was a senseless travesty.

I could shake my head in disapproval when talking about it with sensible mums at baby group.

Either that or go immediately onto the internet and panic buy the pink iPhone with Peppa Pig fascia and matching lipstick so my child was not emotionally damaged for life for being the only one at the play dough table without the ability to Bluetooth.

As we reached the bottom of The Hill I allowed the blood to run back into each hand and winced as my flip flops dislodged from the bleeding webbing between my toes. I could see cars pouring out of the preschool car park and I start to speed up. At this point Maisy decided slowing down was the way to go and stopped to idly pull privet from a hedge. I called to her in a gentle, calm manner and asked her to hurry as Mrs

Dingle would be starting to do the register. I strode on with a vain hope that Maisy would be hot on my tail fearing the wrath of Mrs Dingle with her massive, swaying bosoms and her daily comment about whether we were aware that the session starts at 9am sharp.

Unfortunately, Maisy could not give a toss about not being there for register time. She saw lateness as a convenient way to avoid sitting still and quietly on a mat which she considered an inconvenient preamble to running around for two hours like a lunatic.

Uttering a few swear words that would make a sailor blush, I reversed the buggy along the pavement and clutched Maisy's leaf filled hand and picked up the pace as we approached the entrance to the car park . We weaved through the jumble of parents' cars all reversing, turning and trying to make a hasty escape from their sobbing children. Dragging the buggy clumsily up the stone steps we passed the dishevelled, upturned fundraising bucket requesting donations for a new ramp and we made our way into the hall.

Mrs Dingle is a large woman and she was sat on the tiniest chair I had ever seen with a rabble of toddlers at her feet. Her drab minions in blue polo shirts emblazoned with the preschool's Angel logo were stationed at regular points around the group of wriggling tots like crowd control ready to tackle anyone to the ground who attempted to escape. Maisy spotted her friend Sam and dashed away to sit down, proudly showing off her huge shoe.

Where had she got that from? It was muddy like it had been buried in the garden.

I stood red faced, breathlessly offering apologies. Mrs Dingle fixed me with a stare over her half spectacles

'We do start a 9am sharp you know'.

I left the inmates to their play and headed back to The Hill, my hill, my bloody buggery hill.

As we reached the foot of the hill, the baby stirred and she had decided that feeding time had arrived. She wailed without any comprehension of the rock face on which her treasured bottle of milk was perched. Slowly with arms at full stretch and bent nearly horizontal I began the ascent. I swore the air was getting thinner as we climbed, although the baby's hungry screams got louder, more desperate and seemed unhindered by a lack of oxygen. I reassured the red, angry little face beneath me that we were nearly home, we weren't, but I couldn't tell her that, we all need hope.

As we reached the midway point I heard the whirring hum that had stalked us home from the disapproving Mrs Dingle every day for what seemed like an eternity.

It had actually been just ten days. I was determined not to turn around, not to make eye contact;

I did that on day one, two and three before learning my lesson.

Keep walking, head down, ignore the clatter and block out the whir and drone.

Then I heard it, the words that made my ears go hot and my teeth clench together.

'Are you off home then?' The milk float bobbed along the road next to us with its ruddy faced driver grinning inanely at us.

Without looking up and remembering the no eye contact rule I answered curtly. He knew I was going home, he knew where I lived as I had refused to buy his peddled overpriced dairy goods the day we moved to The Hill.

'You will be fit as a flea going up and down here like you do, although you already look pretty fit from here'.

I spun my head around and saw him leering at my backside encased in my too tight jeans. With one hand I yanked down my top and laughed tensely while wanting to slash the tyres on his wheeled hairdryer to wipe the smirk off his face.

Thankfully, I had reached our house and at that moment it was actually living up to expectations as a sanctuary.

'We are home now my sweetheart' I told my hollering little girl who was crimson faced and tearstained. Home sweet home.

The milk float clattered onwards and upwards.

'Bye then! See you tomorrow!' the lecherous milkman said loudly as I sprinted down the path with the buggy to the front door.

'No you won't see me tomorrow as I will have moved house by then' I said quietly.

I began to mutter whilst I fumbled to get the key into the door.

I am going to choose a new house for us this morning Gracie, somewhere level and completely devoid of slopes of any kind, maybe in Norfolk or Holland. I will transport all our belongings to this low lying flat location after I've picked up Maisy and then instruct my husband to come home from work for his tea on a different bus or plane as we no longer live on The Hill.

We will dwell on even ground in a region without perverted milk sellers and huge breasted, intimidating child carers.

Holland. I liked the thought of that.

If I was going to get that all done during the morning I would need some energy so I flicked on the kettle, reached for a well earned cream cake and typed: Properties not on hills into Google.

Clogs and windmills here we come!

Chapter 2

Dad answered the phone after two rings and listened to my blubbering and incomprehensible babbling for at least a minute before he spoke.

'Is that you darling?'

I took a few deep breaths then conveyed between sobs that we would no longer need to borrow the lawn mower at the weekend as we were moving to Holland.

'Holland?'

'Yes, Holland'

I said that I thought instead of grass we would have a lawn of tulips and would it be possible to have all the cardboard moving boxes back as we need to make a start on packing up the house. I gabbled on and stated that I knew he was going to use them to organise his garage but I couldn't't bear the milkman.

We needed to sell the new house and live on flat land.

There was a moment of silence on the line.

'Look, why don't I come and baby sit on Sunday night'.

I suddenly realised how unhinged I must have sounded and Dad was likely wondering if I had actually lost the plot.

'You can go out for dinner, get to know the town. The pair of you don't get much time together... you are so tired and it will lift your spirits sweetheart'.

The tightness in my chest began to ease.

'I've got a poker game on Saturday night but other than that I was only going to rewire my lamp and I can do that at your house. Have you still got the discovering things channel?'

I confirmed that we had, smiling because he always called it that and I wiped away the reservoir of tears and snot that has formed on my top lip.

'Great, I will be over at six o'clock, it will be fun looking after the little ankle biters'. A beaming smile spread across my face and I could breathe again.

'Thanks that would be super'.

Good old Dad.

Feeling suddenly buoyant in my mood I decided to go to baby group after all even though it would have already started.

I would still get forty five minutes to natter and relax with my new friend Mel and time to drink stewed tea and gobble cheap value biscuits while the baby rolled around on the play mats with Mel's little boy, Ben. I could pick Maisy up from Little Angels on the way home; perhaps go to the park for an ice cream.

I got ready and set off down the hill enjoying the warm sunshine on my face and thinking of a lovely gift I could buy for dad. He was always helping out and saying the right things at the right time. Maybe a flight voucher so he could visit us when we emigrated. I wheeled the buggy into the church foyer before negotiating the door into the baby group. This involved entering backwards using my bum to push the door open and trying not to trap my fingers as I reversed awkwardly through the entranceway. I turned around to face the room, smiled and felt warmed by the sense that everything was going to be alright.

However, everything was not alright, I was not sure what it was but something was amiss at baby group. Small gatherings of mums were stood in tight clutches talking behind their hands, shaking their heads and glancing over to where I was stood looking puzzled and curious in the doorway. I scanned the room to see if I could spot Mel but she was not among the faces. Rummaging in my bag I retrieved my phone and saw '1 New Message' in my inbox.

It was from Mel; I clicked it open and read her words.

Can't make BG tomorrow as B got a temp n sick, heard u doing tea n coffee duty, v dedicated after only two weeks, remember 2 get there early!

An overwhelming sense of confusion and dread engulfed me as I reread the text for the eighth time. It had been sent late last night long after I had crawled exhausted into bed. I looked up slowly and realised what I was witnessing in this room was a sea of caffeine and sugar denied mothers all wanting my blood for not bringing them their morning fix.

Shit shit shittery shit.

The baby group leader, Brenda darted out from behind her table where she takes the money and signs people in. She trotted across to where I stood rooted to the spot. She is a small woman with ginger hair cut severely around her head just below the ear. Her glasses are too big for her tiny face and magnify her eyes to scary proportions.

'Hello, how are you this morning?' She said.

Brenda looked into the buggy blowing kisses at the baby who looked unimpressed by this strange woman's affections. She turned her attention to me and her face was full of disappointment and regret.

'You were on the rota for tea duty today'.

I explain hurriedly that I did not know that I was on duty; in fact I did not know there was a rota.

Bloody Dad making me feel upbeat and confident.

If I had not phoned him I would've stayed at home. I could have been happily crying into a cushion on the sofa or looking for cheap flights to Rotterdam and not in a church hall filled with sleep deprived and now tea deprived procreators.

She shook her head as I spoke and I was reminded of my old school teacher who would raise her eyes in despair as I rolled out yet another excuse as to why I had not done my history coursework.

My attention was drawn across the room to a mother rocking her crying child.

'No, Oscar there aren't any biscuits this week, no there aren't any honey bun. Please stop crying. Well, mummy hasn't had her tea either...Oscar please... no there aren't any biscuits'.

Apparently when I filled in my registration form to join the baby group I unwittingly giving permission for Brenda to add my name to the baby group rota whereby I would be required to carry out the duty once a term.

Sneaky cow.

I was led to the little kitchen at the back of the room and I sloped sheepishly past the heavy eyed watchers. I was told where the urn was, I touched it to find it stone cold. 'How long does it take to heat up?' I said.

'It is very antiquated I'm afraid which is why we ask the tea maker to come in a bit early to set up...it takes about twenty minutes'. Brenda nudged her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

I scanned the walls for a clock. The group finished in half an hour, people would be getting third degree burns trying to down their drinks speedily before we were ushered out of the hall so the Scottish country dancers could come in. Looking for mugs, I open all of the cupboard doors and viewed their ridiculously sparse insides with dismay.

'Where are the mugs please Brenda'

'Oh, right. They are over there'

She pointed to a huge pile of dirty tea cups stacked on a royal coronation tray in the corner.

'Suicide Support Group was in last night, they always leave the place in a state...they really should pull themselves together. It wouldn't kill them to swill out their blooming cup would it? '.

Brenda did offer some good news when I confirmed that I had not brought any biscuits for the group. She disappeared out to her car and returned with a large tin of shortbread. She explained that she had bought them for her elderly mother whilst on holiday near Loch Lomond. A coach had taken her and one of the Scottish country dancers.

'My mother is rarely awake when I visit the nursing home, she won't miss them'.

I took the biscuits gratefully and arranged them on a plate. Oscar and his mum made a beeline for the kitchen as I raised the plate, nodding at the shortbread with a smile. See, I said with my eyes, I am not a complete failure. Oscar grimaced at the biscuits.

'I don't like these ones!'

He stamped his foot in anger and marched off across the room kicking his feet causing Megablocks to fly out in his wake.

His mum cocked her head to one side.

'He only likes Bourbons; they usually provide Bourbons' she said before she strutted back to her seat.

I started to seethe because I had met this type of woman before. She thinks herself so cultured and highbrow and her little Oscar the rewarding product of her marvelous mothering. However, the little brat would rather eat cheap nasty Bourbons bulk bought from the cash and carry than my all butter authentic shortbread that is so posh it comes in a tartan patterned tin with a photo of a highland cow on the front. I grabbed a biscuit angrily from the plate and shoved it in my mouth.

I was back on The Hill, having escaped baby group in time to collect Maisy. I had served luke warm insipid tea that barely diffused the teabag to a six deep rabble of thirsty parents like I was an aid worker in a third world country. I dashed around the room rounding up the teacups as everyone was leaving and dumped them on the royal coronation tray in the corner of the kitchen.

I refused to wash up, I was not suicidal but at that moment, I definitely needed some sort of support group.

Maisy was singing nursery rhymes as we climbed the hill and stopped briefly to tell me that Joe Dalton had eaten three pots of glitter at playgroup to try and make his poo sparkly. Evidently, Mrs Dingle was very cross as glitter costs a fortune. Maisy recounted how the preschool leader was heard telling Crystal, the work experience girl that she would not have time for a 'bloody flag break' as it had taken so long to scrub the glitter off Joe's teeth.

Lovely.

I tolerate living on this hill so we can enjoy a supposed high standard of preschool education.

'What's a flag break mummy?'

I ruffled Maisy's hair and shrugged my shoulders.

'No idea, pickle'. I said.

We reached the front path and Maisy shouted with delight.

'Look mummy! Are they for me?'

A huge bouquet of flowers was lying on the doorstep; beautiful tropical blooms fanned out and tied with pink ribbon. I bent and read the card.

Your dad phoned, things will get better, I promise. See you later, I will bring dinner x. I stood on my doorstep with my beautiful little girls, clutching my gorgeous flowers sent with love from my fabulous husband who not only promised that life on The Hill would get better but would also bring home dinner. I started to cry and for the first time that day they were not tears of despair but of hope and happiness.

Chapter 3

I was made redundant when I was five months pregnant. All of the staff knew jobs were on the line after receiving a series of emails titled 'Our Changing Future' and 'Moving Forward' euphemisms it turned out for 'this place is going down the pan'. We were aware that our service just wasn't as popular anymore, there were too many of us to pay to stand around discussing The Apprentice and completing comedic fake online dating profiles. I was managing a team but had pretty much got everything I could out of the role in the ten years I had been with the company. When the redundancy pay was dangled like a carrot I feigned a frown and folded my arms in a hostile manner across my chest.

'Well, this is a lousy way to repay my loyalty but I would rather it be me than Chrissie, I couldn't't do it to her' I said.

Chrissie is my equal; also a team manager and she must be the unluckiest person I have ever encountered. In the eight years I had known her she had suffered a series of

unfortunate events including a cancer scare, then cancer for real, then a divorce, then a house fire when her insurance had lapsed, then a mean boyfriend, then another mean boyfriend and then a nice boyfriend who became an alcoholic who was mean.

I was politely informed that one of us had to go. I would have felt sorry for Chrissie if she had lost her job but as it was I didn't really care about mine. I would be off work for a year after having the baby anyway so I was happy to show how selfless and moral I was by volunteering myself for the chop. They were basically paying me to go away and I was happy to oblige. I had sat up into the night with my husband excitedly discussing wild ways to invest the healthy sized pay out. After ruling out a race horse, a cannabis farm and buying ourselves a Lord and Lady title we agreed we would use a good chunk of it towards the house on The Hill and what was left I would use for an enterprise or a project to keep me from going mental being at home with only two infants for company. So far I had purchased a loft ladder which I had not used in an enterprising way; in fact I had not used it at all.

I was thinking about the money and how to put it to good use when I eyed Maisy digging up all of my freshly planted tulip bulbs in the garden through the kitchen window and I dashed out to wrestle my trowel from her grasp.

'But mummy I am helping!' she said kicking over in temper an England supporter themed gnome, a reluctantly accepted house warming gift from my father. Unfortunately, the gnome just rolled across the patio and didn't break at all. I was tempted to aggravate Maisy further to see if she would offer up a harder punt that would put paid to the pot bellied, beer holding ,George Cross flag waving monstrosity.

However, she wandered nonchalantly back into the house. I followed her inside hearing the doorbell as I went and opened the front door to see the postman holding a huge box.

'Would you take this in for Number 13? She is out right now'. He said passing the box through the door.

He was very attractive, his eyes twinkled and I felt myself become a slightly giddy as I grappled with the box and placed it clumsily on the hallway floor. He thanked me and went on to say that the lady at Number 13 received a lot of parcels but was often out. He didn't like having to bother the neighbours. The postman strolled back to his van and turned and gave me a wink before driving off down the hill. I shut the door grinning like an idiot, heat flushing my face and looked at the box. The return label said it had come from Wigan but there was no other label that would give away its contents.

After lunch I walked up to house Number 13 with the box perched on the top of the buggy and Maisy trailed behind swinging her one armed doll, Annie. I had suggested we throw the broken doll in the bin before we moved house. I said I would get her a new one.

'Carrie on Cbeebies only has one arm mummy, is she broken?'

I had quickly backtracked and said that of course Carrie the presenter on Cbeebies who only has one arm wasn't broken. I told Maisy that on second thoughts, we didn't have to throw the doll away.She was beautiful just as she was. Through guilt I even bought the doll a new outfit with matching hat and altered one sleeve on my sewing machine so it was flattering where the limb was missing. I didn't want my four year old thinking I was prejudice even though I was pretty sure Carrie, a human, having one arm and a cheap plastic doll losing a part because it was essentially crap was a completely different case. For one, I am fairly sure Carrie's arm was not snapped off angrily during one of Maisy's tantrums and then buried in our sandpit.

I rapped on the door of Number 13, which was a very large house with leaded windows. It was set back from the road. I heard someone clattering around inside. After a few moments a flustered looking woman with long black hair and dark eyes appeared at the door. She was very slim, dressed in a white vest and long rainbow coloured tie dyed skirt, several necklaces hung around her neck. A tiny jewel glistened on her nose. She was shoving boxes along the hallway with the side of her foot so the door could open fully and then smiled warmly.

'Hi, oh sorry did you get lumbered with my post?' She said

I handed the woman the box.

'Its fine, not a problem'.

She turned and added the box to the pile of others. I caught a glimpse through the front window and not only was the hallway stockpiled with boxes but through the glass I could see the sitting room was also filled with different shaped and sized boxes. They were stacked up precariously like a Jenga game.

'You have just moved in across the road haven't you?' She said.

'How are you finding it? I am so rude to not have been over to say hello already but work has been ridiculously busy and my little boy hasn't been sleeping very well.'

She nodded to a baby bouncer in the hall complete with sleeping baby nestled amongst the towers of boxes. Distracted by the dozing tot for a moment I went on to convey with a surprising degree of conviction that we had settled in well and really liked the area. Where as in fact I had just ordered a 'Teach Yourself Dutch in a Week' CD and I was still crying every morning in the shower. Maisy had sat on the floor to play with her doll and was chattering away wistfully to one armed Annie.

Curiosity getting the better of me and hoping the answer may explain the multitude of boxes I asked what work she did.

'Ebay' the woman came back 'I sell everything and anything'.

She pointed to the box I had just delivered.

'In there are buttons' she paused 'soon to be Blessed Buttons'.

I stood looking confused. She explained how she sold buttons that had been 'blessed' on the auction website, Ebay. The buttons had not actually been blessed in any religious sense but she made clear that the buyers didn't know that. She gave me a wry smile. They believed the buttons held a special power. They had been selling to Americans like hot cakes. Once purchased the buyer would receive the buttons in a presentation bag. The woman pointed to a box that had a photo of tacky, gaudy coloured bags stuck to the side and 'Contents 1000. Made in China' emblazoned in large black print. Seeing my still puzzled expression she explained that 'Blessed Buttons' could be sewn onto the buyer's clothes or given as a gift. They could give the wearer good luck, good health and prosperity. What a load of bollocks I thought as she spoke with animation.

'They cost thirty five pence to make and are selling for a fiver plus postage. I have sold two hundred so far'

I looked at her in awe

'You are a bloody genius'.

The woman introduced herself as Amber and I told her my name and presented Maisy and the baby before she asked if I would like to come in for a cup of tea. She said she was gasping for a drink and her next auctions were not finishing for one hour and twenty seven minutes so she could take a break. She seemed quirky but friendly and I was rather lacking when it came to adults to talk to and flirting with the postman didn't really count, so I gladly accepted her invite. I couldn't get the buggy through the front door and passed the boxes so Amber led us around the back and through a side door into a huge modern kitchen. Boxes were stacked on every surface; Amber apologised for the mess and relocated her stock that was mounted on the kitchen table, into the hall.

'Please sit down; I will put the kettle on. If Maisy wants to go in the garden she can'. Maisy was clinging to my leg and peeping nervously at our new acquaintance with suspicion. I was not sure if I could prise her away from my thigh where I felt her grip was about to break my skin. Amber bent down to Maisy's level and spoke to her gently with a smile.

'There is a trampoline out in the garden if you fancy a bounce'

Maisy immediately detached herself from me and ran squealing with joy back out through the door and into the garden.

I quickly looked out of the kitchen window whilst Amber had her back turned filling the kettle, to see if Maisy was alright and not playing in broken glass or nuclear waste. I was half expecting to see a mountain of boxes through the window but the garden was absolutely stunning. It had been landscaped and was full of colour, little pebbled paths weaved this way and that, tasteful statues emerged from the greenery and a fountain stood pride of place in the centre of a perfectly manicured lawn. Mature trees lined the garden laden with fruit and lush, shiny leaves. A huge decking area stood to the left adorned with luxury sun beds, a hot tub, a fire pit and Mediterranean plants in large white pots. I stood agog before catching sight of Maisy bouncing up and down on the trampoline off to the far right; a little picket fence with a pretty gate enclosed the area from the rest of the garden. It was breathtaking.

Amber told me as we sipped our tea that her husband, Stanley was responsible for the garden. She had monopolised the house with her Ebay business so he had retaliated by commandeering the garden. The trampoline was her eldest son's but he was away at school. As we sat, I steered the conversation back to Ebay selling, as I wanted to

know more. I was amazed to hear how lucrative it was. It emerged that she was making a hell of a lot of money selling what in essence was a load of crap. I was in fits of giggles as she described some of the items she had managed to shift for hard cash on the auctions. The spirit of a Red Indian healer in a jar, Jesus' face on a piece of tree bark, a ghost cat that was basically just a collar wrapped up and mailed to whichever stupid Ebayer had more money than sense. When Amber was first starting the business she had offered a service whereby parents could pay for her to send a sensitively composed letter to their children to tell them things they themselves had found it too difficult to discuss such as there is no Santa Claus or tooth fairy, or their goldfish/dog/Grandma had died, or for teenagers, could they stop masturbating so loudly at night it is keeping the rest of the family awake. She had sold under the category of 'Witchcraft' one hundred invisible dragons spiritually bound to the seller. Only one had been purchased but she said it was the easiest ten quid she had ever made.

Amber stirred her tea and I noticed how tired she looked, dark circles hung around her bloodshot eyes hollow from lack of sleep.

'When I saw people were making money on the auctions selling the fingernails of celebrities, God on a piece of toast, a cornflake that looks like the Queen, the bloody meaning of life in a Tesco carrier bag I knew I had to get on board this gravy train'.

She offered me a biscuit.

'I don't just sell that kind of stuff, I mean its all tat but not all of it is silly. I just find I am so busy with it now to be honest, I could do with some help'.

The purchasing, listing, unpacking, repacking and posting must be taking hours, no wonder she can rarely answer the door to take in her parcels.

'You wouldn't be interested would you? Could get Maisy sticking the labels on, our very own little sweatshop here at 13, The Hill. What would the neighbours say?'

She joked and then disappeared out through the door.

Amber emerged with a chubby baby boy cradled in her arms and she kissed his cheek gently. In my mind, I was already considering working with her. It would be incredibly impulsive as I hardly knew the woman. I needed something to invest my time and money in and Ebay selling seemed fun and fruitful. I could still look after the girls and make cash at the same time. It would make more sense to work with a partner especially someone who was already experienced and successful. My husband would say I was crazy. As usual, I was being impetuous, not only had I just met this woman but it was a risky venture to sink my redundancy pay into.

'I will help you, you know, with the Ebay selling' I said quickly before I had time to bottle out.

'Really?'

'And I have money'.

Amber grinned broadly and flicked the kettle back on.

Chapter 4

My head was throbbing, the pain flashed across my forehead and I was squinting as I crawled on my knees picking up Lego from under the kitchen table. I also retrieved three dried up peas, one Shreddie and two pieces of wrinkled sausage and hooked them into the palm of my hand before I shuffled out and deposited the entire lot in the bin. I didn't even bother to separate the toy bricks from the grim food, it all went in. I was nursing the hangover from hell and I just didn't care anymore. Wandering into the kitchen I popped two paracetamol from their foil packet and washed them down with the last inch of my tepid tea.

It had been a great evening. I had squeezed into a dress I hadn't worn since before having babies. For the last three years I had only looked at it longingly hanging in the wardrobe before pulling out something baggy and forgiving to wear. I had not quite been ready to accept that my new fuller waistline was here to stay so the slinky dress had escaped the charity shop. Thankfully the stress and exertion of having two little children, walking up and down Kilimanjaro everyday and the litres of tears I had blubbered due to the misery of having moved somewhere I hated had all helped to shift the pounds. Dad had arrived early to baby sit so my husband and I made a hasty retreat out of the front door. As we left, Maisy was determined to show dad her still wet paintings from playgroup. I didn't warn him soon enough and as he took them enthusiastically to admire, the gloopy blue paint streaked up each of his shirt sleeves.

'Bye!' We said together with a giggle from the doorway.

We then dashed out into the warm evening air.

We had decided to go to a Thai restaurant nestled in the centre of the town. It was decorated with gaudy pictures, artificial trees and fairy lights, traditional eastern style music tinkled in the background. It was tacky but charming and the food was mouth watering. We ate and drank wine and enjoyed being just us, temporarily free from our parental responsibilities. Eventually we both looked at each other bleary eyed both worse for wear from the alcohol.

'Shall we go home to bed?' I said with a yawn.

He nodded and looked at his watch.

'It's 10:15'

'God, we drank fast. I'm wasted' I mimed to the waiter that we would like the bill.

'Shall we go home and watch something funny on tele'

'Yes, let's' I said slurring.

I wanted my bed.

The following morning, I navigated my way through the gloomy living room. A sea of discarded toys littered the carpet all ready to be trodden on. To inflict great pain, yet again, on my bare feet. I was still in my dressing gown even though it was 11:30am and the curtains were drawn. My husband had left for work at 8am, I had briefly hauled myself out of bed, to kiss him goodbye. Then I had retrieved Maisy and Gracie and crawled back under the duvet for five more minutes sleep.

When I woke, Car boot Sale Challenge was blaring from the little flat screen television on the chest of drawers next to the bed and Maisy was sprawled on the floor half watching it whilst filling up my old handbag with clothes pegs. She was still in her pajamas. I was too tired to get up and ready for preschool this morning so I phoned to tell Mrs Dingle that Maisy was ill with a cold and sore throat. Unfortunately as I was relaying my made up excuse to the preschool leader Maisy started to sing One Direction's 'You don't Know You're Beautiful' at the top of her voice on her microphone which prompted an awkward silence on the phone. I grimaced as I imagined Mrs Dingle, listening and mentally processing the jovial, not unwell, sounds of my daughter. I quickly told her we would be in tomorrow and hung up.

I walked to the window and pulled back the curtains, daylight filling the room and I looked out with sleepy eyes taking a moment to focus.

I froze.

My eyes were suddenly wide.

My husband's car was swinging into the driveway and I squinted to see through the windscreen. He wasn't due home until 6pm. I wondered why he was home so early. Shit, He was not alone. I started screaming in horror and yanked the curtains shut again.

'Bugger, bugger, bollocks!'

'Mummy! That's rude' Maisy said wagging her finger at me.

'Sorry darling, don't listen to me'

I darted across the room stabbing the underside of my foot on a Bob the Builder figure and then on an earring from the dressing up box.

'Owww! Bloody hell!'

'Mummy!'

I grabbed at my feet before kicking the offending toys in temper out into the hallway.

I heard the keys jangle outside and turn in the lock as I endeavoured not to tread on anything else that would make me shout expletives.

'Daddy!' Maisy said excitedly from behind me.

I slowly turned to see my husband stood in the doorway surveying the chaos before him. His eyes flit to the dirty breakfast bowls discarded on the coffee table and the pile of three soiled nappies balanced on top of them. The place did look like heroine addicts may be returning to it. He curiously asked Maisy why she was not at preschool as he glanced back out through the door to the car. She span around merrily before performing a jump and then a theatrical bow.

'Mum says I am really ill...but I'm not really. We are pretending!'

I shrugged.

I was a grown up. I could lie if I wanted to.

My husband looked at me as I tried to wrap my dressing gown even tighter around my body and strived to brush some of the volume out of my slept-on hair with my fingers. 'I've got... .' he nodded towards the door.

'I know, I saw through the window...why?! What the hell is she doing... ?'

My words stuck in my throat as a face appeared at the doorway. My husband shook his head quickly a cue for me to stop talking and he looked down at Maisy who was clipping pegs to the hem of his trousers. The face looked at me, then at the mess, then at my husband, then at the mess, then at Maisy who had started to eat stray hoops of cereal from the floor. Giving me a pained smile my mother-in-law, Pauline looked reluctant to take another step into the carnage.

'Hello, are you ill dear?'

Maisy balanced a cereal hoop on the end of her nose

'No, she just has a hangover Granny, but I am dreadfully unwell!'

Thanks Maisy.

I retrieved three mugs from the unwashed load of crockery in the dishwasher.

'What is she doing here?' I said.

My mother-in-law was in the next room, Maisy was telling her about Saturday night's episode of Britain's Got Talent and Pauline was humouring her with enthusiastic replies. She had no idea who Ant and Dec were as she hadn't had a working television since 1987. My husband explained how he didn't know that in bringing his mother here they would be forced to enter a nauseating pit with actual human faeces on show or that I would be dressed like I had wandered out of an asylum. He mimicked a zombie with its arms stretched out in front and eyes rolled back in the sockets. I whacked his shoulder in pretend anger and he smiled grabbing my wrists before I tried again.

'Great night last night, I will have to get you drunk more often' He said.

He winked at me before putting his arms around me and kissing my lips softly.

'Hmmm, shame the day from hell has followed, my head is killing me'.

I wriggled from his embrace and quickly got back to my line of questioning.

Why are you home from work six hours early?

Why is your mother here?

She has never ever visited us because she claimed to have an overwhelming fear of traveling in cars and if we visited her, she always required at least three weeks notice. Why was she now sat, uninvited, in our front room which is at least a ninety minute car drive from her own?

Furthermore why are her two suitcases and a hat box stacked in our hallway?

He pushed the kitchen door closed and began to describe the bizarre events that had lead to that unforgettable moment.

It transpired that my husband's father had walked out my husbands' mother after thirty years of married life. This couple who could be accurately and completely described using the idiom 'dull as dishwater' had been rocked and torn apart by one half of the partnerships decision to end their shared humdrum existence. A life so dull and void of events, the very mention of it would make insomniacs nod off. The parting of two people who had endured each other for countless years and had reached a point where days were spent rearranging the cutlery drawer and commenting on the coming and goings of the neighbours. They were the sort of people who still paid their bills at the post office and used a shredder with irksome regularity to prevent anyone stealing their spiritless and moth-eaten identities. They went to bed early because unlike the rest of us they don't have television as a distraction and weren't watching a gripping drama or a funny sitcom to numb the boredom. They had exhausted everything they had to say to each other by breakfast so by nine in the evening sleep was a welcome escape from the tedium of the each others company. My husband's father, Roger, had had enough and had unceremoniously buggered off. I had felt the urge to high five him. Then, my husband dropped the next bombshell and I gasped.

His dad, Roger, had moved in with another woman. I was gob smacked, I could not conceive how his dad ever had the opportunity to talk to another woman let alone persuade one to let him live with her. He belched at the dinner table then announced proudly that it showed he has enjoyed the food and rather than just joking that he could wear his pants two days in a row by turning them inside out, he actually did. What woman would want him?

Apparently, one he met on the internet. I was puzzled, because as far as I was aware he didn't even have a computer. My in-laws were so behind the times when it came to electrical goods, they looked at me bemused when I bought them a microwave last Christmas.

I found them using it as a bread bin. This was because they didn't know how to turn off the defrost setting. So, it turned out Roger was sold a laptop for fifty pounds by a friend in the local pub. He had been going to the pub for two pints, every Thursday night for the last twenty years. The friend had told him how he could find out about anything and everything on the internet. This laptop had excited Roger in a way that the microwave and his marriage had clearly failed to. This time he actually bothered to learn how to use it. The friend came around to the house to show Roger how to get online and I could just imagine Pauline's disapproving face peering from behind her crochet. Roger had started using the internet every evening once Pauline had poured herself a glass of water, said her prayers and climbed the stairs to bed.

One morning, Pauline got up to find Roger still on the computer in his clothes from the day before. He had been tapping away all night on the keyboard, a stack of dirty coffee cups piled beside him. Tired of researching online advice on how to grow prize winning marrows, Roger was distracted by photographs of busty women smiling seductively from the side of the screen. The advertising column promoted dating services and promised those who clicked on them, romance with attractive women in the local area. A few mouse clicks had led to an application form and completing this had allowed access to banks of profiles of women looking for love. Roger had begun chatting to a woman who lived only six miles away. The thrill of cyber flirting and being enticed by the possibility of seeing a woman naked had miraculously revived the embers of passion in Roger. Pauline had told him curtly, in the summer of 1999 that she was giving up sex as it gave her hives.

My husband described how his father had gone in to town and spent three hundred pounds on fashionable clothes and a haircut. He hadn't chosen his own clothes in years, Pauline had picked out anything in fawn or sage from a catalogue and he had just worn them without interest or protest. Pauline was suspicious of Roger's behaviour when she found him digging out a home gym that my husband had had as a teenager and was still housed in his parent's garage. After several weeks of training, lifting weights and jogging on the treadmill Roger's usually stocky form was becoming lean and toned. He was rarely away from the laptop and when he was he was sweating away on the home gym but Pauline must have ignored the obvious changes in her husband.

Pauline's greying skin and hair, her dour expression and dated clothes aged her, Roger's new designer jeans, tailored shirts and styled hair made him look youthful and fresh. Roger had started going out to the pub on Thursday nights but rather than just supping a single pint at the bar he stayed out until the early hours of the morning and crawled into bed reeking of whisky and flowery perfume. Pauline still refused to confront him and this had gone on for six months. This morning Roger had packed his bags and bid his wife of thirty years goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. He handed her thirty yellow roses.

'For every year we have shared'.

He apologised holding her hands in his and said he just couldn't stand the monotony anymore. Pauline had stood holding the huge bouquet and did not utter a word as she watched Roger reverse his car out of the drive and out of her life. She had put the flowers in water and phoned her son.

'He has left me'

'Ok mum, I will be there as soon as I can'.

My husband knew the inevitable had finally happened. He had mentioned to me that he felt that his parents were going through a bad patch but I hadn't really taken it seriously.

When was their good patch?

Roger had looked different when we last went there. I should have seen it coming.

My husband was now from a broken home but one way or another, it had been broken for a very long time.

I slid out from under the duvet and left my husband, Maisy and the baby curled up asleep in a warm, cosy heap on the bed. I plodded downstairs my mouth feeling furry and dry and wandered in to the kitchen kettle-bound and wiped sleep from my eyes. 'Morning dear!' A voice chirped suddenly

'Jesus Christ!' I jumped in shock grabbing my chest.

My brain cleared and I remembered that last night after a tense discussion, huddled

together in the downstairs toilet and out of earshot of Pauline, my husband and I had agreed she could stay for a while. A very short while.

'Don't take the Lord's name in vain dear' Pauline said chastising as she sat at my kitchen table reading today's paper.

She was up early .She claimed that she was always up at 6am and had already walked to the Tesco's in the town. She marvelled at how shops were allowed to stay open twenty four hours a day and were even open on Sundays, the 'Sabbath'. She was not used to this in her village, the boundaries of which she rarely crossed. I nodded in agreement feigning enthusiasm and opened the cupboard to retrieve the biggest mug we owned to ensure the biggest caffeine hit. I stood confused staring into a cupboard that yesterday had been stacked like a Tetris game with cups and mugs but was now quite bare. I glanced into the sink but it was empty and unusually clean. I turned and eyed Pauline; she had a mug half filled with milky tea on the table on a coaster that I had forgotten we even owned.

'Erm, have you seen the mugs, Pauline?'

I returned my attention to the bare cupboard.

'On the tree'

'On the...tree?' I said.

Had the stress of the break up addled her poor threadbare mind?

She looked at me and pointed to a wooden mug tree, an alien entity on our worktop yet laden with my best china cups.

'I bought it this morning. I put the best ones on there and all the chipped ones are in that bag for the bin'

She gave me a full grin but it fell away promptly and she resumed reading the newspaper.

A carrier bag was sat on the backdoor mat and was bursting with a lifetime's collection of largely novelty drinking vessels. There was one that said 'I love monorails!' and my favourite which had 'The Bristol Stool Chart' with detailed illustrations on it. I noticed the mug my husband had received as a secret Santa gift from a young pretty girl called Amanda at his work, perched on the top of the bag. Instead of a regular handle it had a porcelain penis to hold and wrapping your hand around the phallus was necessary to lift the mug. I had chuckled awkwardly when he had brought the gift home trying to enjoy the comedy value which my husband seemed to be relishing as he held it aloft laughing. Secretly I was bubbling with irrational jealousy, annoyed that someone nearly half my age, with half my waistline and Julia Robert's hair, who had only been working with my husband for five minutes, as an office temp, had felt confident enough to buy him a cup with a huge cock on it. Pauline had done me a service by rummaging through my belongings without permission and throwing away half of them, without consultation, as I could finally rid my kitchen of the abhorrent dick cup. I leant over the bag of cast off mugs and reached down and rescued one from near the bottom of the bag. It read in bold text An Anagram of Mother-in-Law is 'woman Hitler'.

I held it up and announced genially 'This one isn't chipped'.

I bathed the baby and my husband sat with his head in his hands on the toilet seat listening quietly to my protests.

'I don't want a mug tree. Why has she put all my mugs on a tree?'

He shrugged his shoulders and yawned behind his hand. I continued my monologue as I rubbed shampoo a little too vigorously into the baby's wispy blonde curls. I channelled my feelings of irritation with vim. I was enraged that his mother who had not visited us in years should descend on our new, if somewhat despised home on The Hill and start rearranging my cups and God only knows what else.

Who invented mug trees anyway?

Who thought it was a novel idea to have washed cups hanging from mock branches exposed to splashes of cooking fat, morsels of food, dust and boisterous children armed with flying toys rather than enjoying the safety of the clean, unassailable cupboard. She can sod bloody off with her bollocking tree.

I rambled on to my sleepy audience as I wrapped my pink, damp infant in a thick towel. I reported how over breakfast Pauline had suggested that I must have so much time on my hands now I wasn't working and had later looked critically around my freshly cleaned and vacuumed living room.

'Are you struggling with the housework dear because I can help you?

Pauline had remarked how hard it must be for her son supporting our family and having to work overtime at the weekends. In the past on our rare visits to Pauline and Roger's house I had always returned home riled. She would remark over a casserole dinner that my being at work must compromise my role as a mother. I assured her that Maisy was getting lots of time and attention. I had then laid awake all night agonising over whether I was a crap mum for leaving her four days a week to go and earn a crust. I couldn't win with Pauline, whatever I did was wrong. No wonder Roger walked out, I would have killed her and been arrested for causing 'death by mug tree' years ago.

'I have found an enterprise to invest the redundancy money in' I said to my husband who was clearly relieved I had finally changed the subject.

'I met a woman who lives up the road, Amber, she sells stuff on Ebay and has made a fortune. She has asked me to help her and I said yes'

I scooped up the baby.

So your mum can stick that up her bum and smoke it.

Chapter 5

Pauline had gone for a walk into the town and had taken Maisy and one armed Annie with her. My husband and I sat out on the patio in the afternoon sun.

'So how did you meet this Ebay woman?' He said pushing his sunglasses up onto his head.

I explained about the parcel, Amber, the house of boxes and the amazing garden. I watched the incredulous look spread across my husbands face as I told him about the impressive amount of money she was earning by auctioning junk online. He rubbed the back of his head.

'It's very risky, what if you buy lots of stock and it doesn't sell? You don't even know this woman; she might be a con-artist or a scammer'.

I rolled my eyes having predicted his reaction.

'She is a mum and she doesn't need to scam because she's loaded. Her house is that massive one up on the left'.

My husband raised his eyebrows. He knew the house I meant.

'I am going to help her for a month, get a taste for it and she will pay me a wage. If I like it I can invest and we can profit share and if I don't... I will think of something else.'

I ran my fingers through my hair.

My husband stretched his arms up and closed his hands around the back of his head.

'It will be great, she has a baby too and we can work without paying out for childcare'

I pointed out that I needed something to get my teeth into, a distraction from nappies and housework. It will help me feel less miserable about living here. I will have a friend. I hadn't gone back to the baby group after the tea duty debacle so I not had a chance since to see my friend Mel again.

Surprisingly, I appeared to have argued my case sufficiently as he pushed himself out of his chair, leaned in to kiss me on the head.

'Give it a go then babe'.

That was easy. I had had a whole campaign speech brewing.

He strolled down the garden and began uncoiling the hosepipe and I sat and watched feeling excitement bubble within me as I mused on my new venture. I felt in my pocket for my phone and began to write a text.

Hi Amber, my bloke given me the green light so can start ASAP, tomoz if u like? 9:30am?

I pressed send and rested the phone on my knee, giddily awaiting a reply. After a few moments the phone buzzed and I quickly opened the message.

It read: 'Fab! Got lots to post out. See you in morning, A x'.

Butterflies danced in my stomach as I got up and head into the house. I fired up the laptop and typed Ebay into the search engine. I had never used the auction site before so I urgently needed to do some research if this was going to be my new career. I sat for two hours clicking icons, following auctions to their conclusion and reading the rules and regulations. There was a lot to take in but I would pick it up as I went along.

I was soon disturbed by Maisy staggering breathless into the study exhausted from her walk back up the hill.

'Did you have a nice time with Granny?'

'We bought some wool and Granny bought me this'.

Maisy pulled a large book from a white plastic bag with a fish symbol on it. I took the heavy volume from her and read the title aloud

Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.

I looked at Maisy and tried respond with conviction telling her how lucky she was to have such a lovely gift and I said we could read it at bedtime. I had always had respect for those with religious beliefs but I was an atheist and I was suspicious of my mother-in-laws surreptitious methods of bringing God into our house.

A mug tree, I could live with. An entire religion, well, that was a bigger deal.

'The boys at the bus stop are going to hell mummy'

Taken aback by this candid statement I believed I must have misheard so I asked Maisy to repeat what she just said.

'The boys at the bus stop in town are going hell mummy because they were smoking and one had a ring in his eyebrow' She paused thinking hard.

'Granny said they are going to burn in fire for all maternity'

'You mean eternity'

I then wondered why I was assisting my four year old to correctly articulate such a horrible sentence. Maisy danced out of the room before I could further discuss the afterlife and I was disappointed because I had an awful lot to say about purgatory. Pauline had to go.

The next day, I stood on the driveway, the baby cradled in one arm as I said goodbye to my husband.

'How long is she going to be here?' I said in a low voice.

'I don't know, she won't talk about it, you know, about him. I tried to broach it but she just clammed up and changed the subject. I think she is in shock'.

I speculated as to how the woman could possibly be in shock, Roger could not have been less discrete about his affair if he had come home one night with his new squeeze, stripped naked and asked Pauline to scoot over in the bed so they had space to do the reverse cowgirl position. I never believed he would have the guts to leave her, but she must have surely known things weren't right.

'Why don't you try talking to her, might be better from another woman? I'm her son and it's my dad so she may not want to open up to me' He said and looked serious.

Absolutely bloody not.

'Ok, I'm going to Amber's today but I will talk to her at dinner'.

Fuck it. What did I say that for?

I waved goodbye as his car disappeared down the hill.

I walked Maisy to preschool; she was going to play with her friend Kiri afterwards and would not be home until teatime. Pauline was knitting, she informed me that it was going to be a blanket for the baby and I tried not to recoil in horror as she revealed the mustard yellow wool she was using. It was a shade of yellow akin to the contents of the baby's nappies, so at least if we had a leak it would not show up. I told her I would be out for the day at a friend's house and she fixed me with a stare.

'What about your ironing?'

I swelled with a sudden panic like I was a teenager and I had been caught going out without tidying my bedroom.

'I will do it tonight'

'A likely story!' she said with a snort and a chuckle.

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not, she had never joked before and it was confusing behaviour.

'Bye, Pauline' I said unnecessarily loud, ignoring her provocations and left the house. I pushed the buggy weighed down with the baby and her bag of supplies up the road to Amber's house, gritting my teeth and mumbling angrily to myself as I went. A wolf whistle sounded behind me and I stopped to look. The familiar rumbling of the milk float hit my ears and my heart sank.

'Off out are you?' The red faced driver bellowed.

Why did I turn around? I'm an idiot.

'Yes' I said before resuming my stride.

' Not up to no good are you?'

I picked up the pace hoping to escape this repellent character before he spoke again.

' I could think of a few things I'd like to get up to' He said and cackled.

Did he not realise just how inappropriate he was?

I ducked into Amber's driveway hidden from the road by tall dense hedges. I knocked on the door and after a moment of clattering and jostling inside Amber appeared at the door and said with a smile 'Come on in, partner'.

Phew.

Amber and I sat opposite each other on her living room floor holding fresh cups of tea. I had settled the baby in a cradle in the corner of the room where she was now quietly snoring. Amber's little boy Max was laid on a play gym contently playing with his fleshy toes and gurgling. I surveyed the room to see if I could spot clues that would tell me more about my new friend and her life without having to actually ask her. The room had an opulent fireplace with a marble mantle piece. It was crammed with framed photographs of baby Max, a teenaged boy who I assumed was her eldest son, Rufus and a tall, handsome dark skinned man with twinkling brown eyes and a square jaw. I concluded that this was Stanley, her husband and her gardener. Amber had told me that he worked away but did not divulge his line of business. In the photographs they were skiing, stood on a tropical beach in diving gear or smiling from the deck of a luxury motor cruiser. Another, larger photograph showed them around a dinner table in what looked like a very expensive restaurant and another printed in sepia, in a striped safari jeep on an African plain. Together they were obviously very affluent and could afford a large house on The Hill with luxurious grounds and an Audi A5 parked on the drive.

The living room was light with a bay window with leaded glass and occupied all of one wall. Heavy curtains of sumptuous fabric hung generously at either side of the window and matched the two long settees and the armchair which ran along each wall. It was difficult to see much else as boxes blocked the view.

' I need to post out fifty of the Blessed Buttons today, so if you could put them all in these gift bags' Amber held up the tacky neon pockets ' and then in these envelopes'.

She dropped an envelope on to the floor in front of me as she struggled to clamber over the boxes.

'I will start typing the labels and stick them on'.

I smiled and put my tea on a coaster on what looked like an antique side table.

'No problem'

I leapt to my feet. I counted out the buttons, bags and envelopes and began to keenly assemble the amazingly popular product. After fifteen minutes of silently working away I paused and looked over to Amber who was sat on the computer with her back to me.

'So, how did you get into this Ebay selling?'

Spinning around in her office chair to face me she looked without speaking. After a moment she laughed said 'Do you really want to know?'

It wasn't the response I was expecting.

'Yes, how did it come about?'

Amber paused for a beat and looked up at the ceiling.

'Well, let's just say I started out selling speciality goods'.

I shifted positions and sat up on my knees leaning forward eager to hear more.

'You can sell anything online, there is always a buyer'

I waved a Blessed Button and laughed

'I know!'

'There is a market for...lets just call it x-rated goods and I tapped into this market' Amber had not given much away but I could not carry on bagging up buttons for the next five hours with that as food for thought.

'Go on' I giggled.

Amber went on to divulge how years ago she had sold knickers online. I had let out a gasp and covered my wide open mouth when she added that she did not just sell knickers, she sold worn knickers. She sold worn knickers that had not been washed to other people.

'I sold loads of them, I went to Primark and bought a bag full for forty quid and then auctioned them in the adult section on Ebay'.

I tried to speak but couldn't get the words out.

'They were selling for thirty pounds each, I made a killing'

'Oh my God' I started to giggle without control, Amber joined in and we continued until we could not catch our breath.

'Do you still...sell them?'

She shook her head.

'That's a shame, I know a milkman who would love a pair'.

I had really enjoyed my morning. Finally something was going right.

Buzzing from my first day working with Amber, I arrived back at home just as Kiri's mum, Pippa, pulled up in her Range Rover. Maisy and Kiri bounced around in the backseat. I barely knew Pippa but since Maisy joined Little Angels she and Kiri had been inseparable. We were obliged to exchange niceties as our children were always together. I was keen for Maisy to make new friends before she started school so little play dates seemed like the perfect opportunity. Pippa unbuckled Maisy and lifted her out of the car, before Maisy ran up the path.

'Can Kiri come for a sleepover tonight?!' She said.

She had been nagging to have a sleepover ever since learning about them from her older cousin. I wasn't prepared to be inflicted with a night shattered by screaming girls, running around the house fuelled by sugary midnight snacks. Then I would have to intervene when they all fell out with each other and burst into tears, demanding to be taken home at 3am.

Should kids be having sleepovers when they are only four years old?

Was I out of touch? I felt pretty sure they were for teenagers.

'Not tonight darling, Granny is staying'

This was clearly not the right answer as Maisy began to hang off my arm and started to whine.

'Please, please mummy please!'

I began to feel awkward as Pippa stood silently watching.

'Maybe Kiri could come to play here one day?' I said.

I tried to compromise with my screaming little charge hoping Pippa would interject and say something useful like'we will sort something out soon' or 'we could meet up in the holidays'

However, she did not.

Thanks, Pippa,

Maisy spun around holding my hand and looked up at me, pleading with her eyes.

'Can she come tomorrow?'

'Erm, I'm working tomorrow sweetheart'.

'Working? But you don't even have a job Mummy'

Pippa eyed me curiously, clearly wondering if I was actually fibbing about having a job. Perhaps she was bemused that I would go to work and my daughter have no knowledge of it. Maybe I was a secret agent for MI5 or a stripper. I was not sure if my IQ or figure would lend itself to either career path.

Pippa asked me what my job was. I realised that I was embarrassed to tell her. She worked for a law firm and had gone back to her role just two months after Kiri was born. She power dressed, made generous donations to the preschool, although apparently not in the 'ramp' fund bucket. She appeared far more dynamic, driven and successful than I could ever hope to be. Admitting I was selling vampire repelling crucifixes on Ebay was slightly galling even though I had loved my first day doing it.

'I'm self employed, a bit of import... export' I said sounding like Del boy Trotter.

I smiled and told Maisy we would arrange something for next week before bidding Pippa and Kiri goodbye. I was glad the conversation had ended there before I said something stupid like; this time next year I will be a millionaire!

At dinnertime Pauline offered to cut up some vegetables whilst I stuffed a chicken with onion and garlic cloves. I rehearsed in my head what I was going to say to her playing it over and over again until it sounded so lame I dismissed it as an option and started again.

How do you ask a woman dicing carrots how she feels about her husband ditching her?

How do you feel Pauline about your dear husband, Roger, using the eject button to parachute out of your colourless marriage to enjoy some hanky panky with an internet man hunter?

Maybe I could ask her about her sex provoked hives.

Could that be a door in?

Pauline gathered up the vegetables and placed them in a saucepan. I turned the dial to heat the oven and went to wash my greasy hands. I had my back to her so seized the moment to speak without having to actually look her in the eye.

'So Pauline, what are your plans?'

'Well, I thought I'd have dinner and then carry on with my knitting. I am about half way there now'

She assumed I had meant her plans for the next hour rather than my true meaning which was when exactly would she be buggering off home.

'Great, it's looking lovely' I lied wishing that Pauline might be involved in some freak knitting needle incident that would render her incapable of finishing the vomit coloured blanket. However, I didn't want her so injured that we would have to be her long term carers.

'No, I mean long term plans. I bet you are missing being at home aren't you?'

It had only been three days but they had been three long days.

I pulled open the oven and lifted the oiled chicken into it.

'I am a little; I haven't really been away from home since we went to Margate in 1987'

The same year they got rid of the television.

'What are you going to do now that, well, you know....?'

Pauline promptly finished my sentence for me.

'Now that Roger has broken the sacred marriage vows, we both took with God as our witness and run off with a computer generated Jezebel?'

That wasn't exactly what I was going to say, but close enough.

I nodded.

'I will carry on as I always have dear, I will focus on my church work, my knitting and my birds'

I was slightly confused as she did not have any birds but I felt loathed to probe her, feeling positive that the answer would be frightfully dull.

'I let him have his fun hoping that he would realise the devil was leading him into temptation but there is just no saving some souls'.

So she did know what he was up to all along.

Thank God! I was beginning to think she must be some sort of mechanical creation, a robot life form without common sense and basic intuition. I was one bucket short of throwing water all over her to see if she short circuited. The baby started to cry from her cot upstairs.

'You must find it very noisy here' I gestured towards upstairs and the bawling tot.

I imagined our home must be a shock to the senses to a person who sits for hours on end with only the ticking of a Grandfather clock disturbing the peace.

'I do not mind it' Pauline said.

Pauline began laying out the placemats we only ever used a Christmas on the table. My quizzing her about her departure date was fruitless so I abandoned my efforts and trotted upstairs to comfort the baby who was so pleased to see me she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Chapter 6

I sipped a glass of wine and sighed. The house had been a hive of activity all evening. I served dinner; cleared away, swept up the inconceivably huge amount of food littering the floor beneath Maisy's seat, played Ludo, bathed the girls, wrestled them in to pyjamas, read three and half story books and settled them into their beds. My husband had come in from work but left shortly afterwards with Pauline who had asked him to drive her to a church meeting. I had jabbed him in the side when Pauline had gone upstairs to get her bible snapping at him angrily.

'Why did you say you would drive her?! It's nearly a three hour round trip!'

He put one finger on his lips his eyes popping out and pulled me into the kitchen 'Shush will you! She will hear. I could hardly say no, could I? My dad has walked out on her and she is obviously bottling up her feelings and the church is the one place she feels...well, happy'

I heard footfalls on the stairs.

'Fine, I won't wait up for you then'.

He put his head around the kitchen door and saw his mother putting on her long beige coat by the front door. Luckily out of earshot.

'Look, I have arranged to meet my dad, I've not heard his side of the story yet so we are going for a pint whilst mum's at her meeting'.

'I'm ready when you are!' Pauline was calling from the hallway.

My husband kissed me quickly before I could say anything else and drove off with his mother riding beside him.

I reluctantly went into the utility room and began to sort out the washing. I lifted a pile of dirty clothes and attempted to post the huge mass of garments into the washing machine in one go. However, the smaller items tried to escape their watery fate and fell to the floor. I noticed my black lace knickers, the ones I had worn to the Thai restaurant laying on the floor. My mind ticked. I wondered how much my knickers would sell for.

They are quite sexy.

Would mine reach as a high a price as Ambers?

I didn't see why not. I plucked them up from the floor and held them wide in both hands. I'm not going to sniff them I decided, letting out a giggle. Abandoning the washing which was hanging out of the drum and strewn across the lino I took the knickers into the study and picked up the camera from the shelf.

'I can't' I said to myself.

You can, the devil on my shoulder whispered.

I laughed nervously.

As it transpired I could be a filthy cow and sell my worn pants on the internet. I took a photograph of the less than fresh knickers, spread out on the floor. I added a red rose plucked from the vase on the window sill for that romantic touch. I wasn't sure that perverts buying second hand knickers from strange women on the internet were particularly romantic but I decided to use the botanical prop anyway. My first photograph had to be erased. On the floor, a Barbie doll with crew cut hair having fallen victim to Maisy's scissors, had infiltrated the image. The second photograph also had to be deleted as my feet were in it. Eventually the picture was uploaded, the sexy description typed and I debated over what price to start the bidding. Amber had said her knickers had sold for £30 but I didn't want to be too confident, so I started the auction at 99p. It would be fun watching the price climb as lonely weirdoes committed to higher and higher bids. I titled my listing 'dirty panties' hoping this would appeal to buyers worldwide and then I giddily clicked submit. Flopping back into my chair I held my face.

What have I done?

Moving into middle class suburbia was already having an effect on me. I was the lead in a real life version of Desperate Housewives, the minute my husband leaves the house with his heart broken mother; I am flogging my unwashed underpants on EBay to debauched web wanderers. I stood up and proceeded to the utility room and judged that I had better get back to washing the rest of my knickers before I sold them all.

The sun shone through the gap in the curtains and the alarm clock rang as I slowly opened my eyes. The clock said I had had a lie in. I reached out across the bed it was warm but empty. I pulled on my dressing gown and padded downstairs, Pauline was sat in the living room with the baby chortling on her lap and Maisy was dressed as a fairy waving a banana as a wand, throwing it up high in the air and catching it. I then remembered my internet misadventures of last night.

'Good morning' I said through the door before heading for the study.

I wanted to check my Ebay listing. How many bids would I have got overnight?

I found my husband sat at the computer wearing a t shirt and boxer shorts and I admired him for a moment before he noticed me. He looked great in the mornings, his tight white top showing off his toned physique and his black fitted Calvin Klein shorts completed the look.

'Good morning' he said with a smile.

I sidled up to him and rested myself on his lap ensuring I took some of the weight on my legs so he didn't realise what a lump I had become. He wrapped his strong arms around my waist and kissed my neck gently.

'Hmmm why don't you shut the door?'

'They are in the next room'

My husband's hands disappeared under my dressing gown.

'I'll be quiet'

He untied my gown, lowering it down my arms until it fell into a heap on the floor. I gently pushed the door closed and we made love silently moving from the chair to the floor. I couldn't help but keep one eye on the door, Maisy had walked in us having sex on a couple of occasions but we had managed to cover ourselves up and explain away our debauched behaviour.

First, we had said we were practicing wrestling for the Olympics and the second time we claimed to be entrants in a national wheelbarrow race competition. Maisy, blissfully naïve questioned us for weeks about how our training was going, stating she had told Mrs Dingle at preschool all about it. We told her that sadly we had been knocked out in the heats and would have to try again next year. She made a card and picked flowers for us from the garden to cheer us up.

Better luck next time eh?

Pauline may have been less likely to believe our tales if she had opened the door to find us making the beast with two backs. Satisfied and breathless I got to my feet and wriggled back into my dressing gown

'That was nice and unexpected' I said, smiling.

I sat back in the computer chair.

'I like the element of surprise'

My husband pulled his t shirt back over his head. He winked, blew a kiss and left the room on his way to the shower. I reached for the computer mouse then slid it from side to side causing the monitor come to life and typed 'Ebay' into the address bar. I clicked into my account, then onto my auction listings and my face flushed when without warning a picture of my knickers filled the screen. I surveyed the activity on the listing.

I had One Watcher.

I let out a little laugh, and jiggled in the chair with excitement.

One person was watching my pants!

One person was following my drawers like they were friends on Twitter.

The auction was set to finish in four days time so there were plenty of hours left for the sexually deviant to bid.

Suddenly, I heard a loud crash and jumped up from the computer running to find out the source of the noise. Maisy stood in the kitchen frozen to the spot with a guilty look on her face. The floor was decorated with a mosaic of broken china cups, a bruised banana and an upended mug tree. I rolled my eyes and smiled.

I knew that thing was a hazard.

Chapter 7

The vampire expelling crucifixes were presented in a coffin shaped box. An illustrated label of a blood sucking fiend dressed in a black and red high collared cape was adhered to the top. I needed to package eight of them before starting on the voodoo dolls with the faces of politicians on them. We already had orders for several David Cameron dolls and even more Nick Cleggs. Amber assembled the dolls herself and they came with a little bag of pins. She had had great success shifting George Bush doll's a few years ago she assured me these new dolls would sell. The recession followed by job losses and hikes in the cost of university fees proved her to be right. We were inundated with orders. Clearly Amber had tapped into a bizarre gap in the gift market. Wide scale redundancy obviously wasn't preventing people spending what money they had on these spirit calling effigies of controversial politicians. Presumably, without jobs they now had plenty of free time to jab needles into their lifeless cloth eyes.

Amber and I spent the morning busily working occasionally speaking to confirm item details or buyers addresses. We paused at lunch time and sat out in the garden to eat the wonderful array of meats, quiche and salad Amber had prepared and arranged on her slate topped table. I poured some homemade lemonade from a crystal jug into a tall glass and looked out wistfully across the lush green oasis.

'Have you ever been to the baby group at the church down the hill with Max?'

Max was sat on her knee trying to pilfer food from the filled plate which was just within his reach.

'I did try it actually, a few months a go but it wasn't really my kind of place'

Amber forked the sumptuous, cheesy quiche into her mouth. I wondered if she had forgotten to do tea duty too.

'Funnily enough I didn't like it much either' I said.

I explained what had happened the last time I had been there including Brenda's disappointment in me and the posh mum and her odious shortbread hating son.

Amber tittered as I recounted the tale.

'I got stuck talking to Oscar's mum the first time I went there too and she droned on about the extension she was having built and how she did not have any old cups to give the builders as all of hers were Royal Doulton'. Amber said.

She shuffled Max on her knee as he gnawed on a stick of cucumber.

'I couldn't escape her! She told me how Oscar had been identified as a gifted child but as she was boasting her son was sat in the corner of the room eating poster paint and pushing a crayon into his ear'.

We both laughed and I covered my mouth fearing I would spray lemonade all over the table.

Amber said that she now attended another baby group on Friday mornings in the next town called Roseville. Despite its florid name the town was notorious for its high crime rate and it was always in the newspaper because drugs were openly sold on the street. Many of the houses were boarded up. My husband would think I was mad if I went there with our baby having moved to The Hill so we could benefit from the up market area and its Ofsted accredited childcare. Amber explained that the baby group in Roseville was run by two Polish sisters, Justyna and Bernardetta and according to Amber they were brilliant at thinking of interesting activities to keep the children busy. Max was only eight months old but he had enjoyed planting sunflowers and he helped to stuff straw into old clothes in order to create a giant scarecrow.

'A strach na wroble in Polish' Amber translated with a chuckle.

'I know it's a dodgy area, I actually used to live there myself once upon a time. Some of the toys have seen better days but the people are really nice, you should try it'.

I sat quietly and considered it for a moment.

Amber had lived there?

It seemed odd that she could have once lived in one of the most deprived districts in the south, yet was now enjoying luxurious surroundings of The Hill.

'If it gets me away from my mother-in-law then it is a sterling idea. I'll give it a go' I said with a wink.

I helped tidy away the plates before leaving to collect Maisy from playgroup. I fastened the baby into the buggy and told Amber I would pick her up Friday to go to the new baby group.

Friday. The ghetto. Cool.

I arrived with Maisy breathless and moist with sweat at the end of our path having scaled the hill in record time. I had had a phone call just as the playgroup captives were filing out of the hall and tasting the sweet air of freedom. It was my next door neighbour, Carol. I had given her my number the day we had moved to The Hill after I reversed the car out of the driveway into the street and knocked over her son's moped which was parked on the road. The moped had suffered a small dent so I had given her my insurance details and mobile phone number but she had not spoken to me since. However, she did appear at her window peeking under her Venetian blinds every time I went out in the car. She looked pensive, surveying the scene as I retreated down the drive. Carol presumably believed causing damage to property or traffic accidents was a hobby of mine. I almost felt sorry to disappoint her as I safely pulled into the road without hitting a vehicle or endangering life. She said she had just spoken to my mother-in-law, over the front garden wall and that Pauline had locked herself out of the house. Carol explained over the phone in a long and convoluted narrative which involved unnecessary time scales, long descriptions of settings and character analysis. Basically, Pauline had gone out to the shops, left potatoes boiling on the stove and had forgotten to turn the gas off.

Pauline's face was stretched into a grimace and her eyes showed real concern as we dashed up the path, the door key clenched in my hand.

'I'm so sorry dear; it's not like me to forget. I left the key on my bedside table'

She stood clutching her full shopping bags in each hand. It wasn't like her to forget, she remembered everything. When I gave her back a lavender toiletries set as a Christmas present that she had given me three years previously as a gift when Maisy was born, she remembered. She had looked at me with a wry expression before opening the purple bottles carefully, inhaling their rancid out of date stench and tipping them unceremoniously into the bin. I unlocked the front door and the acrid smell of burned potatoes hit me as I darted to the kitchen and pulled the pan away from the heat. Pauline tottered through the door behind me with Maisy trying to push passed her. I brought the baby in, placed her in her bouncy chair and offered her a toy which she grabbed and chewed happily. The saucepan was beyond washing and not worth salvaging so I dumped it into the outside bin.

Pauline stood looking vacantly around in the kitchen.

'I'm sorry, I will buy you a new saucepan, dear'

'Don't worry Pauline, it was an old one' I lied. It was in fact a Stellar pan, my new Stellar pan.

The afternoon drifted on and at dinner time we all sat down to fish and chips that my husband had bought on the way home from work. Maisy made us laugh as she poked chips under her top lip to make fangs and Pauline recounted the burned potatoes story. I shared that I was going to try a new baby group in Roseville and my husband frowned.

'Why are you going there? It's a dump. It was in the paper, worst area for drug crime and violence or something'

'Amber says it's a really good group and much friendlier than the one down the road'

Pauline smiled at me and nodded supportively.

Weird. She was rarely on my side. Must be saucepan related guilt.

'They're only friendly because they are all pissheads on cheap cider or high as a kite on smack' My husband said, joking and picked up the baby who had just started to wail. He laid her on his chest.

'What a snob you have become!' I said 'When we first met we rented a flat in Mile End! It was a hole! The flat below us was used as a knocking shop and the one above us had a dead man in it'

My husband laughed remembering.

'It did! He was there for two weeks before we complained to the land lord about the smell'.

Pauline looked horrified.

'How had he died? Poor man'. She said and winced.

'Nut allergy' We both answered together.

I cleared the table and then began to wash up.

'If you want to go to hang out in skid row, its fine by me. I just thought the reason we moved here was so we didn't have to go places like that'

My husband put one arm around my shoulder and kissed my head.

'Well, I thought places like this would be more friendly and welcoming' I said.

'I'm sure once we get settled in...'

'Yeah, I guess so. I just feel like everyone I have met so far is either unbelievably creepy or seem hell bent on bollocking me for stuff'

'What about Amber? He said.

'She is the exception. The lynchpin and the reason we haven't yet moved to Holland'

He laughed before took Maisy and the baby into the living room and I could hear whoops and giggling as he played with them. I hadn't had chance to ask him about his meeting with his dad yet and I was desperate to hear what had been said. Once Pauline had gone to bed, I planned to grill him for all the juicy details.

Pauline rummaged in her shopping bags behind me as I rinsed soap suds from the dinner plates.

'I hope you don't mind dear but I took the liberty of buying you these'

I continued washing and replied lackadaisically without looking.

'Oh, what's that then Pauline?'

'I didn't know your size' she conveyed grabbing my attention. I spun around my hands covered in bubbles and saw her holding three pairs of enormous flesh coloured full briefs all attached to a hanger. The size label on the hanger stated they would be suitable for a lady at least three sizes larger than myself.

'I hope they are big enough, there is nothing worse than tight pants'

She was obviously not reading the staggered expression on my face. Pauline struggled to release the clips on the hanger.

'Erm...why have you bought me knick..ers Pauline?' I said.

Why have you bought me unrequited, gigantic, foul coloured, granny pants Pauline?

I twitched with agitation.

'Well I was in the study having a dust around and don't think me nosey but I couldn't help but notice that the computer screen was on'

My heart sank.

'I know it must be hard financially with the bigger mortgage and you being unemployed but I had never imagined things were so bad that you would have to buy yourself second hand underpants. By the look of the photograph they weren't even clean'.

I lowered my head and wondered how long it would take to drown myself in a washing up bowl.
Chapter 8

I plumped up the cushions on the bed, and then laid back breathing out with a sigh. My husband emerged around the bedroom door carefully holding two cups of tea and a variety of biscuits. The chocolate coated one had melted against his thumb and as he off loaded the cups on the bedside table he licked it clean. He climbed under our new duvet which was thick and cosy and held out my steaming drink. I grasped the hot mug quickly as I could see in his expression that his fingers were burning and placed it down beside me.

'So tell me, tell me. What happened with your dad?'

I had been waiting to hear how the meeting had gone all day.

'For starters' he grinned 'it wasn't just my dad'

My tired brain finally deciphered what he meant.

'Oh my God! He brought her with him? The mistress! What is she like? Is she like your mum or different? Please say different!'

I bounced excitedly on the bed. It was wrong to be this elated about my husband's parents separating but it had soap opera qualities that I could help but relish.

My husband sipped his tea and smirked. He was loving having all the answers to my catalogue of questions and the power to keep me waiting for them.

'Yes, it was weird seeing my dad with another woman after only ever seeing him with my mum'

I had thought he would be more upset about his parents splitting up but the relationship had deteriorated to such a degree that my husband seemed relieved. He felt the pair would now have liberty and freedom from their stale relationship. I asked him to tell me about the meeting from the beginning.

So he did.

He had met Roger and his new girlfriend Corina, in a village pub after dropping his mum at the church for her meeting. Walking into the bar he had spotted his dad straightaway sat at the far end of the bustling room. He then took a minute to absorb the sight that was Corina. She was sat beside him holding a large goblet of red wine. Corina had wild jet black hair which looked like it had scaffolding underneath as it stood so far off her head, thick plum coloured lipstick covered her full lips and her eyebrows had been drawn on an inch higher than they should be with a dark blue pencil. She wore a red shiny blouse and the short sleeves revealed a tattoo of a black cat with purple wings encircled by ring of fire. Above her wrinkled cleavage lay a crystal ball pendant strung on a thin chain.

'She doesn't sound like your mum at all!'

'Corina is like the anti-mum, they couldn't be more different. Maybe that's why Dad fell for her.' He looked away as if pondering the thought.

'Go on, carry on' I said.

My husband went on with the story. He had offered the couple a drink and mimed drinking a drink to his dad and Corina who were positioned far across the bustling pub. They had held up their almost full glasses and shook their heads smiling broad grins. He sat down at their table clutching his pint of shandy before setting it down and shaking his father's hand. Roger introduced Corina who stood and hugged and kissed my husband as if they were long lost friends and told him how pleased she was to finally meet him. Roger had looked uncomfortable with Corina's overtly affectionate welcome for a moment and shifted in his seat. He had clearly not wanted the meeting to upset his son. Just how did his son feel about his separation from Pauline?

His infidelity?

The new woman in his life? The new woman who was hugging him so hard she was almost squeezing the life out of him.

My husband had tried not to stiffen as Corina flung her arms around him, her musky perfume filling his nose.

'So, what did she say to you? Did Roger mention your mum?' I said.

'She told me she owns a funfair and that she tell's people their fortunes'

'What?! You are having me on'

I laughed and hit him on the head with a pillow.

'Honestly, she's a pikey, they live in a trailer. My dad is smitten with her though. I haven't seen him this happy in years'

Still not quite believing what I was being told I listened intently to the rest of the tale.

Roger had explained that he had moved in with Corina and they shared a large caravan on the site of the funfair.

Capricorn Corina's Funfair.

The fair travelled within the local area but not so far away that Roger couldn't drive to work. His healthy income as an engineer, her profits from the funfair and their budget, non-static lifestyle meant that they would soon have money to play with. Roger had paid the mortgage on the house he owned with Pauline and he had decided to cash in some shares.

Firstly, he and Corina planned to buy a new ride for the fair.

A ghost train.

'Oh I love ghost trains!' I said excitedly and then rolled my open hands outwards to indicate that I wanted to hear more and I was sorry to have interrupted.

Again.

It was a used 1970's model Hollingsworth Ghost Train dark ride and they were buying it online for £27,000. Roger had described the ride in detail saying it was trailer mounted and was evidently mechanically and cosmetically in good condition. My husband had pretended to listen when in actual fact he was puzzling over in his mind the notion that his dad who had been so dull and thought nothing of playing chess on his own had now effectively run away with the circus.

'We want to book an astrology themed itinerary holiday in New Zealand' Corina announced 'and we are both having porcelain veneers put on their teeth'.

My husband paused in his story telling.

'I think they should make the veneers a priority, she has teeth like tombstones, black tombstones, black tombstones with moss growing on them' He said

I grimaced and ran my tongue across my teeth.

The trio chatted in the pub for an hour. They discussed Maisy and the baby, work, the new house and the funfair. Corina had then insisted on reading their palms and told my husband that something life changing was going to happen within the next few months. Suddenly, her face had darkened. Roger and my husband had looked at her and then at each other as she silently traced the crease on his hand, her head bowed in concentration. Her face was fixed in a sober expression and nobody spoke. Corina's stony visage suddenly cracked and she looked up and laughed.

'Maybe a promotion at work?' She said tentatively and waited for my husband's response.

'But he's the manager!' Roger said with a chortle and picked up his glass swallowing the dregs of lager from it.

Corina had conveyed that she was not sure what the reading meant specifically as the heart line on my husbands hand was quite feint. She offered to use the Tarot cards next time as they gave a clearer picture. As my husband put his coat on to leave Roger had asked how Pauline was.

'You know, same old mum. Stoic. She won't really talk about it'

'I went the wrong way about things, I was cruel but it wasn't a marriage, son. Things hadn't been right for years. We were like robots, just functioning each day' Roger said.

Corina looked away awkwardly, then examined each of her nails and pulled at the chipped polish.

'Yeah, I know. I thought I would feel more angry or you know upset or something but you seem happy with your new life and mum, well it might take more time but she will get there'.

They had said their farewells and arranged to meet up soon. Roger and Corina would come and visit the new house and floated the idea of having Maisy visit them at the funfair and Roger would take her on the new ghost train.

Pauline was stood outside the church hall in the dim light of the streetlamp, her coat buttoned to her neck and she held her black leather handbag in front of her with both hands. My husband pulled the car up alongside her and she got in. Pauline reached for her son's hand and held it gently. He looked at her and could see tears hanging heavily in her eyes.

'Thank you for driving me here tonight'

She sniffed and foraged in her handbag for a tissue.

'That's ok mum, anytime just ask.'

'I was feeling a bit off colour and the meeting was a good tonic'

They began the ninety minute journey home and my husband tuned the radio into an easy listening station that was playing James Blunt.

'So, how did you pass the time while I was at the meeting?'

'I went to the pub, just had a shandy'

Pauline nodded and smiled.

'There was a fortune teller there, she read my palm and said something big was going to happen in my life soon'

Pauline rolled her eyes.

'It's the work of devils and demons. You shouldn't amuse yourself with the wickedness of Satan'

'A chance would be a fine thing!' he joked.

They both looked at each other and he smirked as Barry Manilow began to sing.

Chapter 9

'WELCOME TO SEVILLE ' the sign read. The letters R and O were missing from the beginning. However, I was fairly certain that I wasn't driving into the artistic and cultural capital of southern Spain. The girl who had just spat on my windscreen as she crossed the street served to confirm this. Amber sat beside me and gave directions which led up along Roseville's main high street; vacant shops mounted with 'To Let' signs flanked it. Many windows were covered with metal grills and shutters sporting colourful graffiti. Others were white washed and displayed posters advertising the circus or nightclubs with DJ's I had never heard of.

I flicked a button and all the car doors locked.

'It's not that bad 'round here. Appearances can be deceptive!' Amber said with a giggle looking over her shoulder at the two babies asleep in their car seats.

'Well, that girl looked horrible and then she spat at me, so in that instance, appearances were spot on' I said.

Amber told me to turn left and we navigated into a narrow side street with cars parked bumper to bumper on each side. I slowly inched the car along the road fearing I would clip the mirror of a parked vehicle and have to confront its no doubt terrifying owner.

Grey apartment buildings loomed at each side of the road. Washing lines heavy with clothes were strung across balconies and orange rusty water had dripped from overflow pipes and had stained the outside walls. We emerged at a junction with another main road and I was instructed to turn right. A very old man with tufts of grey hair wearing an ill fitting sky blue suit stood at the bus stop. He had a thinly rolled cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth and he had clearly wet himself.

'There you go Amber, he will keep you warm at night when Stanley's away'

'God, I wouldn't know whether to shag him or bury him!' Amber said pulling a face.

We giggled as we drove past a carwash, several takeaways and a mosque that used to be a church.

'Are we lost?' I said, scanning the view. I turned to Amber.

'No, keep going down here, we are nearly there. See that pawn shop? Turn left there and that's the car park'

'Please be aware that I am carrying my rape alarm so if anything did happen.'

'You should be so lucky!' Amber said and laughed.

We pulled into the car park and I filled the last remaining space.

We unloaded the babies who woke and immediately started to howl. The baby group was held in a scout hut which looked newly built and was tucked away amongst the blocks of flats that stretched to the sky in every direction. As we reached the door each holding a sobbing child a white woman opened it. Her face was painted with garish and greasy make up and large gold hoops hung from her ears. Conversely, she was dressed in traditionally Muslim clothes, a patterned headscarf and a long black robe.

'Hi Amber! How's tricks?' The woman said in a bark. She had a thick, East End accent that made her sound like Barbara Windsor.

'Not too bad thanks Donna. How's Aadil and little Qasim?' Amber said warmly.

I stood and stared.

Donna nodded to me and smiled as she furiously chewed gum on one side of her mouth. I realised I had been gawping at her so I grinned back goofily before busying myself adjusting the baby's blanket. I didn't want to look at her again until she had gone. I didn't want to laugh.

I wasn't a snob but she did look a little peculiar and had a voice to match.

'Aadil is a lazy bastard, he still hasn't opened the shop and it's half past bleeding ten and Qasim is teething and keeping me up all night. I'm just popping to the chemist to some gel for him. He's in there with Bernardetta playing with the papier mache'

Donna tottered away clumsily holding her long flowing gown up and out of the way of her feet which were adorned with a pair of zebra print stiletto heeled shoes.

'Long story, I will tell you about her later' Amber said shaking her head.

We entered the lobby and then pushed through the double doors into a large room filled with noise, colour and happy sounds. The floor area in the centre of the hall was dedicated to a papier mache project and children and parents were busy creating life sized models of farm animals with the sloppy white paper. My baby lifted her head off my shoulder and gazed around the bustling scene. A few women stood near the kitchen door, chatting and drinking tea whilst three men were inside preparing bacon sandwiches.

Two giggling toddlers dressed as a carrot and a Brussel sprout ran in a circle around us and then off across the hall.

'It's fruit and vegetable awareness week or something. Get the children eating their

five-a-day. Donna's mother-in-law, Salmira is a whizz on the sewing machine and she knocked up those costumes for the kids. Look there's the banana'

A little Chinese boy dressed as a banana was sitting in a red beanbag eating a banana.

'Well it's working' I said.

I already liked it here.

An attractive girl with long silky blonde hair and sparkling green eyes greeted us warmly and asked if we would sign ourselves in. She then and kindly requested £1 entry fee for each of our children. She introduced herself as Bernardetta, she was barely 5 feet tall and very slim. Her hair was straight and blonde and cut in layers around her elfin featured face. Her small blue eyes were lined with thick black kohl and her thin lips smeared with streak of scarlet lipstick. She was holding a small Asian boy, Qasim I presumed. He had glue covered hands and a balloon of snot inflated in one nostril. She was oblivious to the fact he was smearing his sticky fingers down the back of her clean black top.

'Welcome, welcome. So lovely to be having new friends come to see us. Your little girl is so beautiful like a flower' Bernardetta said.

Her Polish accent was strong but I was impressed by her command of the English language. Amber had jokingly taught me one word in Polish. Yet, I wasn't sure if I could crowbar 'scarecrow' into many conversations.

'Hello Amber, how is Max today?' Bernadette reached to hold Max's chubby little hand.

'Hi Bernie, he's is very good thanks'

Amber held Max up so he could be admired but his face crumpled and he began to cry.

Big tears toppled over his cheeks.

'Spoke too soon!' Amber said, and cuddled Max into her.

Bernardetta laughed and stroked Max's arm to soothe him but he wailed even louder.

Amber led the way to two spare chairs in the corner where an area had been cordoned off for babies. We lay our children on the play mats which were dotted with soft, brightly coloured toys. Max rolled onto his front and reached for a blue elephant that was missing an eye whilst my baby lay with her lips pursed and eyes wide absorbing all of the unfamiliar sounds and activity surrounding her.

'Shall I get us a tea? It's 20p a cup, my treat' Amber said.

'No no, I'll go'

'But you had to drive here and that deserves waitress service'

'Look I need to put myself out there and chat to people so I'll go' I stood, pulled my jeans up and asked Amber how she took her tea.

I walked to the kitchen which was filled with a cacophony of cooking sounds and the delicious smell of bacon filled the air. Two black men were cutting open rolls and buttering them and a short white man with spiked hair, turned the rashers of meat in the sizzling frying pan.

'Bacon butty?' One of the black men asked pointing to the roll he had just assembled.

'Yes please' I blushed like a schoolgirl.

He handed me the full plate.

'How are you doing? I'm Riley and this is Joe and our cook today is Mareck. He is Bernadetta's better half'

I tittered nervously before mentally kicking myself for acting so flaky around new people. I must work on my self confidence and not act like such a loser.

'Nice to meet you all. Oh, would I be able to take a roll for my friend?'

'You're with Amber aren't you? I saw you come in. Stick another slice of bacon in this one, will you Mareck?' Riley said

Riley held open the bread roll as extra bacon was laid on the existing two slices. He pointed to my regularly filled roll offering to give mine the 'Amber' treatment but I declined saying I was trying to cut down on fatty food.

Why did I say that? People are enjoying some food just join in. Don't kill the opportunity to mix by kicking off with a healthy eating campaign.

Don't get all Mary Whitehouse about it.

'Aren't we all?!' Riley said patting his stomach. It looked rock solid.

Riley took an enormous bite of his roll and grinned with bread and bacon filled cheeks. I laughed and thanked the men then moved on to make two cups of tea. I was starting to enjoy life in the slums. People were certainly friendlier than Brenda and the Bourbon biscuit brigade.

I returned to my chair balancing the sandwich plate's one on top of the other. I clenched my fingers through cup handles fearful I would drop them on the children scooting around my feet. With both hands out, Amber took one plate and cup.

'Ooo this looks good, thank you very much.'

'You got extra's in your roll, think your number one fan in the kitchen'

Amber's face dropped.

'Who?'

'Erm...Riley, black guy, seemed very friendly. He said he knew you'

Amber looked past me to the kitchen, a grave look on her face.

'I take it you aren't his number one fan' I said

'He was friends with my brother, a long time ago. I've not seen him in here before. He must have come in with someone' Amber said. Her mood had changed, she shuffled in her chair.

'Well, there was a man called Joe. He was helping with the rolls' I said.

'Yeah, I know Joe'

Amber fell silent and then sipped her tea. Her eyes fixed on the doorway to the kitchen.

Her solemnity forced me to control my raging curiosity and I changed the subject. I asked Amber about her older son. She seemed relieved to have a distraction from staring at the kitchen door. She told me that Rufus boards at a private school in Gloucestershire called The Deanery. His ambition is to work for an oil and gas company like his father.

'Stanley is a project manager for an oil company. He is working out in Abu Dhabi at the moment but he goes off to Malaysia and Canada anywhere that has oil really'

'You must miss him but I bet you get some fabulous holidays out of it.' I said, nudging against her playfully.

'I have travelled the world with him, luxury yachts in the Caribbean, skiing in Aspen, Miami penthouses, you name it and we did it. I'm a lucky girl'.

Lucky and bloody mysterious.

Since seeing the photograph of Stanley on the mantle piece I had wondered how he had met Amber as they seemed like an unlikely couple. She subscribed to a hippy dress code and wore flowing skirts, hand crafted jewellery and laced her hair into plaits. She looked like she might be a school teacher of a useless subject like General Studies or the star of a Soya milk advert. I had got to know her quite well in the short time we had been acquainted and I had concluded that the hippy image did not reflect her personality at all. She wasn't saving whales or composting old tea bags, her lifestyle was utterly conventional. Amber was living the middle class dream; she had the big house on the hill, the fancy car, a son at boarding school and a husband who certainly made a very good living working for an oil company. It did not add up in my head. Whenever I saw her wearing a different string of love beads or purple flowers woven into her braided hair I found it irksome because I couldn't fathom it out.

She did not fit in her own life.

I returned our empty plates and drained cups to the kitchen before I sat down next to Amber again.

'So, that Donna? What's going on with her then?' I said with a smirk.

'Ah Donna, the Sultana of Roseville' Amber sighed theatrically.

'She had zebra print stilettos!' I said.

'She also has leopard print ones'

'Why is she dressed in all the Muslim gear?' I asked and picked up the baby before holding a bottle of water to her pursed lips.

'Allah only knows! She married Aadil who is a real toe rag. He inherited his brother's shop when he died last year. He died doing that planking thing'

I looked at her confused.

'You know, you have to make your body like a plank and balance on weird things. He tried to do it on a rotary washing line in his mum's garden, threading himself through the wires that you hang your clothes on and then going stiff as a board. Well...a plank.'

'What an idiot! How did that kill him?'

'It fell over and he hit his head on the stone bird bath' Amber said biting her lip.

I burst with laughter before covering my guffawing mouth quickly with my hand. Amber leaned in to tell me more.

'Anyway, Aadil got the newsagents shop in his brother's will but he has been running it into the ground ever since. They say Asians work hard and are smart, not Aadil. He is so dumb he would sell his own car for petrol money'

I giggled and tucked the bottle into my bag.

'Donna...well let's just say her belt definitely doesn't go through all the loops. She married Aadil who is as Western as you and me. His mother buys all her clothes in Mark and Spencer's and has only ever worn on sari once and that was when she got married in 1971. Yet Donna insists on embracing the Muslim culture now that she has married Aadil and she wears all the garb. However, she does commit a cardinal sin and plays bingo every Thursday night. She says is alright though because she goes to Mecca'

I nearly fell out of my chair; I hadn't laughed this hard in ages. I rubbed my aching cheeks. I loved being with Amber, I had not connected with a friend like this in years.

Chapter 10

That evening, our bathroom was alive with the sound of noisy children splashing in the bath. I knelt in a puddle on the bathroom tiles as I washed shampoo through the hair on two wriggling heads. Maisy was splashing her Barbie though the bubbly water and the baby was sat in her bath seat leaning her head forward to drink it.

'Right, I have left the towels downstairs. Now, I will just be a second. Don't do anything silly Maisy, in fact just don't move until I get back'.

I ran like Linford Christie down the stairs chanting 'Oh my God they will drown!' over and over. I hurdled one-armed Annie who had been discarded on the third step from the top then bounced down to the hallway. I skidded into the utility room and rummaged through the washing basket before plucking two pink towels with Minnie Mouse on them from the pile of ironing.

An ear piercing scream filled the air.

I paused and listened but silence fell.

I ran to the stairs and bounded up them clipping one-armed-Annie with my heel sending her tumbling downwards. I paused and looked back at the doll laid crumpled in a heap at the foot of the stairs, its eyes staring vacantly up at me. She looked like a victim in a murder mystery. Guilt swelled within me.

'I bought you a new dress, what more do you want from me Annie' I said.

The scream came again and made me jump. I dashed into the bathroom clinging onto the doorframe to stop me crashing into the sink.

Please be alive

'What is it Maisy?!' I said breathlessly at my eldest daughter who was stood up in the water shrieking.

'Look! Mummy! look!'

Maisy held her wet naked body against the tiles and kicked out at the bubbles with her wrinkled feet and pointed with her dripping wet finger.

The baby was sat happily with foam on her chin like a white beard. Thank God she was alright.

'What?! I can't see anything' I said a stared into the bubbly bath.

I picked up a loofah and started to swish the water around.

'There! Mummy, there it is!' Maisy yelped.

A small brown turd was floating in the water and torpedoed towards Maisy every time she splashed her feet. It rode on the crest of the wave generated by the movements like a little brown surfer.

I smiled and breathed a sigh of relief holding my heaving chest. I was consoled that it was just a poo I had found and not the baby's lifeless body, face down in the bath. The adrenaline was still pumping through me and I tried to take deep breaths. Grabbing a toy teapot from the edge of the bath I took off its lid and sunk it into the bath water.

'No! Don't put the poo in the teapot' Maisy screamed covering her eyes with her hands.

'How else am I going to get it out?!' I tried not to get cross.

I ignored the objections and scooped the bobbing stool into the bulbous teapot and popped the lid on as if I feared the offending item would jump up and try to escape.

'Right, I better shower you both off and get you out'

I turned the shower dial and ice cold water suddenly sprayed through the air.

'No! That's freezing!' Maisy gasped.

She screeched as the water hit her and I hurriedly turned the shower head away.

'Sorry darling, it came out quicker than I thought'.

I hosed down the girls as if they were seabirds caught in an oil slick. Flakes of the baby's little dumplet stuck fast in the plughole and I groaned. Every last ounce of glamour had been sieved from my life.

I poked the stubborn poo with my finger.

A voice chimed behind me as I sprayed bleach around the enamel of the bath tub.

'What's all the noise about?' Pauline said.

She had silently appeared from nowhere. Possibly in a puff of smoke.

Pauline was wearing a beige hat and her long coat was buttoned up to the top. She always wore it like this. It reminded me of the 1980's cartoon character Batfink and her coat was like his wings, a shield of steel.

'A poo in the bath, scarier than Jaws it seems' I said

Pauline turned up her nose.

'Should they not be in bed by now? It's five and twenty to eight'

'I am running a bit behind schedule'

Bleach dripped down the sides of the bath and I sprayed it away with a jet of cold water.

Pauline clucked her tongue and shook her head.

'I will take them and read them a story' she said and took off her hat,

The girls wrapped in towels sat on the bathroom floor looked up at me with big eyes, their skin pink and glowing.

'Where have you been Pauline, anywhere nice?' I said.

She had not be in the house since I had returned from playgroup which was several hours ago. I was curious as to what she had been up to.

'I have been at Carol's house. She has grown a tremendous crop of vegetables you know. Her cucumbers are enormous and most enviable. I felt quite excited when I saw them'

I sniggered at the innuendo but tightened my lips when Pauline looked at me humourlessly with her brow furrowed.

'I didn't know you knew Carol' I said, rubbing Maisy's hair with a towel.

'Oww that hurts Mummy!' She said, trying to inch away.

I used the edge of the bath to stand up and sighed with relief that we were now in a poo-free zone.

Carol. I didn't really like Carol, she was snide and nosey. Also, rather than moving on from the 'knocking over of the moped' debacle, she wanted to persecute me. Spying through her window and willing me to crash the car so she could tell the whole street -

She is always doing this, she hit my son's moped don't you know.

'I've only just met her but she seems amicable' Pauline said

I nodded.

'After the burned potatoes incident, she stopped me on my way down to the town to ask if everything was alright. We got chatting and it turns out she goes to a lovely little church in the town. Very traditional apparently.'

I didn't want them to make friends.

They would set up an allegiance against me and my Godless and disorganised ways.

'I went to her house for afternoon tea and I am going to go to the church with her on Sunday'

What was happening?

'What about your church? You love your church. You can't start going to a church here, it's over an hours drive from your house, it's ridiculous!'

Pauline looked taken a back by the affront in my voice. Maisy dashed excitedly from the bathroom, her towel falling off her her as she flew by.

I lifted up the baby and held her against me.

Why was Pauline going to church here? She was bloody well settling that's what it was. We'd never get rid of her.

'I am just going on Sunday to see what I think dear' Pauline said curtly.

I reddened and hoped Pauline did not interpret my words as being too unwelcoming even though in essence they really were. There was no way was she moving in here permanently. No way in hell.

I sat at the kitchen table, so agitated I was rapping the hard wood with my nails. Thoughts spun in my mind. Pauline was going with Carol to church on Sunday; I was hoping she would have gone back to her house in Bellfield by then. Making friends with the neighbours and going to the local church, these were early warning signs. She wouldn't ever go if she got too settled.

Too comfy.

I felt sorry for her but I would offer support and counsel from an acceptable distance. I could call her on the phone, maybe contact via email or I'd send a text with a smiley. However, Pauline was so behind the times concerning technology, a message tied to a carrier pigeon would have been more appropriate. I unloaded the dishwasher and I could hear a story being read in the next room. I listened keenly as I gently drove the wire racks back into the machine.

'But God gave Ellen strength to repent and say no to Satan' Pauline read aloud.

'You would say no to Satan, wouldn't you Maisy?'

'I wouldn't say anything Grandma because if he knows you're awake he won't bring you any Christmas presents'

I laughed, licked my finger and drew myself one point in the air.

Chapter 11

That night, once Pauline and the girls were in bed, I sat curled up on the sofa. A brown faux fur blanket covered my body and was drawn up under my arms. I held the remote control in one hand and pointed it at the large television mounted on the wall. A programme appeared on the screen. A couple in their mid twenties was being shown around a luxury London flat on the banks of the Thames.

'It's a bit smaller than we'd hoped for' the woman said as she scanned the huge open plan living area with a glass wall that offered an amazing view of the river.

'And we really wanted a penthouse' the man added looking thoroughly dissatisfied with the amazing property the presenters had brought them to.

'Ok, you are a hard couple to please' the male presenter commented with a chuckle. 'Well shall we move on to the country home...you have a million pound budget. We have found a lovely manor house...'

I clicked my thumb and they disappeared.

Hateful pair

I couldn't bear watching obnoxious snobs, who were ten years younger than me turning their nose up at homes most of us would give our right arms to live in. I hoped they would both meet a sticky end in a freak tractor accident on their country estate or fall head first off London Bridge.

Jamie Oliver appeared and he was tossing chicken around in oil. I clicked.

Michael Winner flashed up he was wearing a dark, blue suit with gilt buttons. I clicked before the sound kicked in. A rerun of an old Friends episode filled the screen and I dropped the remote control down onto the carpet. I watched as Danny Devito's stripper character danced around provocatively for the Phoebe, Rachel and Monica. I had seen it a hundred times before but I still smiled.

My husband came into the living room still wearing his coat and holding his laptop case in one hand.

'Hi babe, sorry I'm late. What you watching?' he said turning to look at the television screen.

'A bit of everything but mostly nothing.'

I retrieved the control and turned the cheering and whooping Friends girls off.

I pulled up my feet so my husband could sit down and he slumped back into the cushions.

'I'm exhausted, such a hectic day I didn't even get out for any lunch. What time is it now?' He said rubbing his forehead.

'Eight thirty, that's more than a twelve hour work day' I stroked his leg.

He worked too hard.

My husband yawned and kicked at the heels of his polished black shoes and shook them off his feet.

'I'm off from four tomorrow and we will have a fun night out' He said and rubbed his hair.

I looked at him trying to figure out what he was talking about.

'What night out?' I said

'My work's night out, dinner at Cardamom Bay ?' He said nonchalantly.

'Tomorrow?'

Bollocks, how had I forgotten that?

I sat quickly upright on the sofa and flung away the blanket.

'Yes, I told you about it weeks ago. I said we were going to London for a work's do on the 22nd. You said it was fine' He began to sound annoyed.

'I don't remember you saying it; you probably just thought you said it. Or told me when I was up to my eyeballs with the kids' I said.

I stood up and started pacing up and down, feeling panic and anger welling up inside me.

I hated his work nights out, everyone talked shop and last time I had been seated next to a radical feminist called Greta. She had cornered me and talked aggressively throughout the evening about how all men are rapists. Her face was literally a few inches from mine as she barked out her views quoting some author, Catherine somebody, her face quivering with anger.

'All sex, even consensual sex between married couples, is an act of violence perpetrated against a woman.' She ranted her breath hot on my face.

I nodded at her enthusiastically. I was terrified to disagree with her. I excused myself and went to the toilet for the fifth time in an hour. This woman probably thought I had a bladder infection, maybe cystitis from all the raping.

That night, I had reluctantly emerged from the toilets, having prayed to any God that the evening would end and we could just go home. I had bumped into my husband on his way to the gents. He had been sat at the other end of the long table with his boss and we had hardly exchanged a word since we had arrived.

'Hey, I want to go home now!' I said firmly gripping his arm.

'Why? What's the matter?' He said looking vague and slightly pissed.

'What's the matter?! What's the matter?!'

He could see I was cross. He glanced back to the table of his rowdy semi-drunk work colleagues and pulled me along the corridor away from prying eyes.

'I have been stuck with bloody Greta over there for more than an hour. I'm terrified of her. She is to men what Hitler was to the bloody Jews'

'She is a bit intense, isn't she?' He said in a whisper.

I hit his arm hard.

'Yes, she is! If I have to hear anymore about how every woman is a victim or that when I orgasm I am collaborating with the patriarchal system, I will pour that mushroom foo yung on her radical feminist head.'

My husband sniggered before forcing himself to pull a straight face. His lips twitched as he put his arm around me and led me back to the dinner table.

The rest of the evening had been tolerable. I was bought a spectacular cocktail from the bar which was extremely potent and went to my head almost immediately. My husband grabbed a spare chair and squeezed me in next to him and a young skinny man with a milky pallor, a mop of red hair and freckles all over his face. He was not talking to anyone, he had his head lowered and he was testing out all of the tones on his phone. I purposefully turned my back on Mr. Ginger and nodded along with a conversation about employment law, which was tiresome, but far better than listening to Greta.

I stopped pacing the living room floor and stood twiddling my hair around my finger.

'Cardamom Bay, is that an Indian?'

'Yes, I did tell you'

'Ok, well I will need to get something to wear. Your mum could have the kids. It should be alright but if you leave me sat with any feminists, fascists, communists or even a God damned Baptist I will march out of there and get a taxi home'

'Deal, you can sit with me the whole night and I will lavish you with alcohol until you are ready to be ravished'. He said

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled free his wallet. He counted out £300 in cash and pushed it into my palm.

'Get yourself something nice to wear'

Sod feminism I liked having a hand full of money and I didn't care who gave it to me or for what purpose. Tomorrow, I would drive to the big shopping centre out on the motorway and get myself a fabulous dress but for now it was time for bed.

The next day, Maisy ran through the playgroup car park spinning and twirling as she went.

'Careful!' I called after her, knowing how clumsy she could be.

She ran in a figure of eight. I jogged with the buggy to keep up.

'Maisy, be careful!'

'I am!' she screeched.

Leaping up the steps she missed the last one and tripped falling onto the concrete floor. She began to scream and shake on the floor. She was crying hard.

'For God's sake' I said under my breath, before I ran to the steps to assess the injuries.

Her hands were grazed and she held them up sobbing so much she couldn't speak. I put my arm around her and gave her a squeeze. I noticed spots of blood on each of her knees so I dabbed them with a tissue from my pocket.

'You're ok, darling. Look, only a little graze' I said

She looked at me and her teeth were red with blood.

I tensed and cupped her chin so I could see where the blood was coming from.

'My tongue hurts' Maisy said through her tears.

'Ah, I think you bit it when you fell'

I lifted her to her feet and descended the steps quickly before bumping the buggy up to the higher level. The buggy rattled and shook.

Mrs Dingle met us at the door.

'Late again!' she said and then laughed heartily. She seemed to be joking but I sensed otherwise.

I explained what had happened to Maisy. Mrs Dingle listened then clicked her fingers in the air. A girl with a blue logo t shirt appeared and took Maisy off to the first aid room. She was like the Queen of Hearts with the playing card people fearfully attending to her every need.

I was like the white rabbit...late.

If I didn't get going soon I wouldn't have time to get to the Mulberry Centre and buy the perfect dress.

I turned to go wheeling the buggy around.

'Maisy will be bringing home information about a project after group today' Mrs Dingle said.

'Oh, great what's it about?' She had surprised me. I tried to look enthusiastic. Wasn't she a little young to be having homework?

'It's about the family, she has some questions to ask and things like that. It's for the teachers at Chadwick infant's school. They want to assess the children's capabilities so they can group them accordingly when they start there in September.'

Before I had chance to speak again Mrs Dingle spun around and marched away pushing the door closed behind her.

Bye Maisy.

As I drove along the motorway I thought about Maisy. She would be starting a new school in September and I didn't know where the time had gone. They grow up so fast, it was a cliché but it was true. I hadn't made an effort to get to know any of the other mums. Kiri's mum had chatted to me a couple of times but her daughter was going to a preparatory school and wouldn't be with Maisy at Chadwick Infants. I had been too busy with the house move, working for Amber three days a week and dealing with Pauline to make some links and soon it would be the summer holidays. I wouldn't know a soul at the school gates on the first day of term. Then there was this project. I hoped some retail therapy would distract my churning mind.

Chapter 12

I love my bedroom. It is large and airy with a wide, bay window that looks over rolling hills. At night, on the horizon, the trees are silhouetted against the navy sky. They marked the start of Chadwick Forest which stretched for miles beyond. The girls were in bed; my husband was dressed, ready to go out and sat happily watching football on the television downstairs. Pauline was at Carol's house again but she promised she would be home in time to baby sit. I sat on the king sized bed with luxurious white Egyptian cotton sheets which were a gift from work when I was made redundant. I think they figured I would be laying in bed a lot once I had joined the mass unemployed. I was glowing from a steaming hot bubble bath and now carefully painting my nails in a crimson red polish. A fabulous little black dress hung on a hanger on the front of the wardrobe doors. I had luckily spotted it in the first shop I had visited and it hugged my figure in all the right places whilst being forgiving around my middle. I had also indulged in a pair of crimson pumps with killer high heels. I could give Muslim Donna a run for her money, although I was unsure whether I would actually manage to walk in the shoes, let alone run.

Once my nails had dried I grabbed my magnifying mirror and looked into it intently. I screwed up my face and then stretched it out. With my fingertips I prodded the dark circles under my eyes. Halting suddenly, I brought the mirror close to my face, my nose blowing air that fogged my image. I wiped it and stared in horror.

'I've got a moustache!...Shit, shit, shit'.

I rubbed the tiny fair hairs with my finger.

I flung the mirror down, angry that it wasn't telling me I was fairest of them all.

It was in fact telling me I was the hairiest of them all.

I looked like the man on the Pringles tube.

Hopping off the bed, I padded into the en-suite and opened the large cabinet that held all of my lotions and potions. I was certain there was some Veet depilatory cream from last summer in there somewhere. I rummaged through the various bottles and sprays, moving aside miniature toiletries taken from hotels and a pregnancy test I hoped I would never have to use. Curled up on the bottom shelf a crumpled metal tube with a crust of yellowy, leaked product around the lid laid behind my wash bag. I snatched it out eagerly.

I looked at it. Then gave it a sniff.

It wasn't the one from last summer; it was so old it was still called Immac. It was certainly passed its use by date but I proceeded to smear a blob of it onto my finger, then onto my top lip. I now had a white moustache. I left it to work its magic.

I struggled into my new black, lacy underwear. The bra was the unforgiving kind and would certainly be unclipped the moment we got home. The knickers rode up my bum but I reasoned that it was a necessary evil if I want to look the part.

A sexy mama. Not quite MILF, maybe MIMLTA - Mother I might look twice at.

But I wasn't sure that acronym would catch on.

Despite having had two children my figure hadn't suffered too much permanent damage. I painted my toenails to match my fingers and when they had dried, I rubbed coconut body lotion onto my freshly shaved legs. I took a big gulp of white wine from my glass. I moved to the dressing table to brush my hair. Scanning the table top for my hairbrush I realised I had left it in the living room. I thought I would nip downstairs and get it and maybe give my husband an eyeful of my skimpy underwear. He might be less inclined to leave me with a weirdo at the restaurant if he knew what I was wearing under my dress.

I skipped along the hall and down the stairs, readjusting my bra when I reached the foot of the stairs. The living room door was closed. I pulled the handle down and slowly opened it. I lifted one bare leg and moved it seductively around the door leaving the rest of my body in the hall out of view. I giggled and started singing a tune which I imagined strippers might undress to and positioned myself so my husband could see one side of my body emerging into the room. Finished with my tease I pushed the door open dramatically and it banged loudly against the wall.

'Ta Da!' I shouted.

I froze.

I then recoiled in horror as eight grey haired women holding bibles stared at me with horrified expressions on their faces. My cheeks flushed and I hugged my arms around my nearly naked body.

'Oh my God!' My face flushed red.

One woman gasped, I was not sure if this was due to my use of God's name or the free sex show I just performed for her.

I surveyed the room and spotted Pauline who looked mortified; her bible had fallen from her hands onto the floor.

'What are you doing dear?' She was polite but naturally must have been extremely embarrassed that her daughter in-law appeared to be trying to arouse her friends with a provocative display.

'Erm...well...I came down to get my hairbrush. Oh look there it is!' I said merrily but inside feeling totally humiliated

I tiptoed across the floor, eight pairs of eyes burning into me and snatched the brush from the side table and turned to around to make a quick getaway. I heard somebody groan as they caught sight of my virtually bare behind, my thong knickers leaving very little to the imagination.

'Sorry everyone!' I said in a high squeaky voice.

I wanted the ground to swallow me up.

Kill me, kill me now.

I ran out of the room, slamming the door and crashed into my husband who was stood in the hallway.

'Why aren't you in there?! You were supposed in there watching football! That was the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me and it's all your fault!' I said with a snarl.

'I was in the kitchen...mum's got her prayer meeting in there'

'I know that now you idiot! I have just waltzed in there like a cast member in bloody Moulin Rouge and flashed my bits at your mother and her Holy bloody disciples'

He grinned and then thought better of it and feigned a serious face.

'You look hot by the way' He said looking me up and down, his eyes lingering on my push up bra.

'Thanks' I said, my anger curtailing and I glanced down at myself.

My husband's nose wrinkled and he moved forward to look at my face. With one finger he dabbed my top lip and sniffed what he had retrieved.

I tensed.

'What's that?' He said.

Embarrassment swelled like a storm inside me. I had forgotten I still had the depilatory cream on my top lip. Now, not only did the prayer group think I was some kind of nymphomaniac, they would also know that I had a huge moustache.

A moustache like a sombrero wearing Mexican.

Or that I was really a man, like Lady Gaga.

'It's nothing!' I said defensively and wiped the remaining cream from my lip and ran away upstairs. The sound of muttering from the living room and my husband's laughing ringing in my ears.

Three large glasses of wine aided recovery from my abject shame and I sat silently gazing out of the car window as we drove into London. We had planned to go to by train but after my embarrassing incident and after my husband saw the size of the heels on my shoes he offered to drive.

'Are you sure you don't mind driving, won't it be crap not having a drink?' I said.

'I've been trying to shake off a headache all day, besides I don't need to get hammered to have fun. It will be nice just being out together'

'I didn't know your mum was having a prayer meeting'

He smiled and turned to me.

'Yeah, I figured. You did look hot though '

'Yeah, I did'

We both laughed.

I placed my hand over his then turned to watch the streetlights flash by, my head feeling deliciously fuzzy.

We parked and walked to Cardamom Bay a funky Indian restaurant just off Brick Lane. I clung to my husbands arm; I wore heels so infrequently I was wobbling like a baby giraffe that was just learning to walk. The restaurant was decorated in brown and white, close up photographs of exotic fruit and spices hung on the walls. An enlarged image of a mango labelled 'Alphonso' to the right and a bowl of yellow turmeric to the left. Ahead of us a very long table stood, it was laid with crisp white linen and various plates, cutlery and glasses. At regular intervals were positioned tall vases with a single white Calla lily in each.

'Very nice' I said quietly to my husband. I was impressed.

Only five people were sat at the table, three sat at the near end and two sat at the far end. Several seats in between remained unoccupied.

'We must be a bit early; shall we get a drink at the bar?'

We pulled up tall stools and sat at the bar with our backs to the restaurant. I sipped my cool fruity Rose wine while my husband enjoyed a refreshing orange juice. It felt liberating to be out, free from parental duties for the night.

More people arrived; the men were dressed smartly in suits and women in formal dresses, their hair coiffed. We decided to take our seats at the table and found two vacant spaces in the centre. I was thrilled about it, as it meant I couldn't be trapped at one end with only an unknown entity in the next seat to talk to.

'This is Shirley' my husband said introducing the man who had sat down next to me.

I giggled.

'Shirley?!' The wine had certainly rushed to my head.

I realised he was serious and bit my lip to stop more laughter coming out.

' Yes, I'm afraid so, my mother was quite, quite stoned when she named me.' The man whose name was Shirley stated in an extremely posh voice.

He put his hand out to shake mine.

'Nice to meet you. I'm...' Before I could answer my eyes were drawn to the restaurant door as two women entered. I and everyone else turned and stared as Amanda, the office junior and penis cup buyer strolled conspicuously in wearing a very sheer cream coloured dress and very apparently, no bra. The fabric floated around her tiny figure and her small breasts were so visible you could have counted the little bumps around the outside of her nipples. I realised my jaw was hanging so I snapped it shut. Most of the men left theirs agape.

My husband smiled at her and waved merrily as if he hadn't clocked her semi naked state. She waved back and performed a little curtsey.

Cute.

A rush of jealousy came over me but was quickly replaced with horror as I saw who had arrived with Amanda no-bra.

Greta.

Oh no, not this time.

Greta was wearing a short black PVC dress and knee high black boots. The dress was far too small for her large frame and the boots did little to disguise white pimpled legs. In her ears, big, red plastic earrings swung like pendulums. On top of the dress she wore a green army camouflaged coat with a large toggled hood.

I whispered in my husband's ear.

'I thought you said she wasn't coming'

'Who? Amanda?' He said, topping up my wine glass.

'No, not her. Well, yes her but more the other one. You know, Greta the man-hater.'

'Amanda told me she couldn't make it but obviously she can now. Don't worry you can stay next to me all night and Shirley is sat there on the other side so you are safe.'

he said.

I unclenched, reassured that I would not be at the mercy of that woman again.

Amanda and Greta sat down on the opposite side of the table but along a little from us. Amanda air kissed a Chinese woman who was sat next to her and they sunk into conversation. Greta raised her hand and ordered a pint of Cobra from the waiter.

Four waiters decorated the table with ornate serving plates piled high with delicious Indian Starters and little bowls of raita and mango chutney. Everyone filled their plates and began to devour their contents.

'A terrible bore these things aren't they. My wife won't come. She says we are all a bunch of tossers and she would rather stay at home and watch Country File'

Shirley refilled my empty glass with Pinot Grigio from a bottle on the table.

I lifted my glass.

'Cheers to that' I said, wobbling in my chair

He chinked my glass with his own and we each took a big gulp. It was only when I got up to go to the toilet that I realised how drunk I was. I staggered to the toilets which irritatingly were up two flights of stairs.

I hadn't drunk that much had I?

I had had two whilst I was getting dressed, three to recover from flashing at the Christians, a miniature bottle in the car, one at the bar and two at the dinner table. That was nine glasses, a hell of a lot really. Quite frankly I was very, very pissed.

I glared into the mirror above the sink in the ladies toilet. My eyes looked glazed and I was struggling to stand up, so I clung to the vanity unit. A tall woman who I recognised from our table appeared from a cubicle. She stood beside me and began to apply crimson lipstick. She looked stylish in a red blouse and black pencil skirt. Her skin was dark brown from the effects of fake tan.

'How are you enjoying the evening?' She said looking me through the mirror.

'Good thanks, although I think I have drunk way too much'

'You need to drink at these things or you realise just how shit it is' She said, pulling at her blouse so it revealed more cleavage and hoisting up her skirt so it revealed more leg.

I forced a smile, my head spinning.

'Did you see the dress Amanda was wearing; she might as well not have bothered'

I tried to stand up straight.

'It was hard not to, the waiter nearly dropped his tray. It doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it?' I said before reaching out to steady myself on the sink.

The woman told me that she had known Amanda since they were at school although she was two years younger. They had never liked each other.

'She was a tart at school, I even remember hearing after I left for college that she had slept with the PE teacher' she said.

'My God' I said. I wasn't surprised.

'She hangs around with Greta now, I think she hopes it will make her look better' she said, spraying a miniature bottle of perfume behind her knees.

Who actually does that?

'Well...she's right'

We both laughed and I headed for the door, trying to compose myself.

My head was spinning.I clutched the handrail as I descended the stairs very slowly. My six inch heels caught on the metal edging on the steps so I had to lift my feet high as I strode. I neared the bottom of the final flight of stairs and my heel suddenly caught and I stumbled forward falling the remaining few steps, on to the cold concrete floor. I squealed in pain as I sat dishevelled at the foot of the stairs. A wave of pain emanated from my leg and I examined it finding blood weeping from a cut on my calf. I groaned as I tried to stand up, my back sore from the fall.

'Are you ok?' A voice came.

The woman from the toilet stood above me with a concerned expression on her face

'Yes, stupid shoes. I'm bleeding though'

She opened her handbag and pulled free some tissue which she handed to me.

'Let me help you back to your seat' she took my hand.

I limped through the restaurant clinging to the woman's arm, blood dripping down my leg.

My husband caught sight of me and he stood up and rushed over.

'What have you done? Are you alright?'

He could see how drunk I was as I swayed my eyes bloodshot and hollow.

I pointed to my leg and he gasped when he saw the blood.

'Thank you Sophie, I will get her sorted'

'Yes, thank you Sophie' I slurred.

The restaurant manager provided a plaster for my cut and my sober husband took me to the safety of my chair.

I watched as blood oozed around the plaster.

'Do you want to go home?' My husband said.

I could tell he was annoyed that I had drunk so much. However, it was he who had been refilling my glass.

'No, no the night is just getting going' I started to dance in my seat to imagined music.

This was untrue as the restaurant had emptied and our table was now only half full.

My husband kissed me and said he was going to quickly speak to his colleague but would be back in a moment.

I sat looking at a fixed spot on the wall, it was the alphonso mango. I wanted to eat that mango.

I saw that my glass was being filled and I turned and waved my hand.

'No more, I have had too much' I said, pleading.

Shirley knocked away my hand playfully and continued pouring.

'Have you ever played Snog, Marry or Avoid?' He said. I noticed he was also slurring his words.

'Erm...I don't think so, what do you have to do?'

I leaned in against his shoulder, and then rocked back away.

'Well, we say a person and you have to say if you would snog them, marry them or avoid them'

'Alright, you go first. What about her?' I said and pointed across the table.

I pointed to Sophie who was nibbling on naan bread and texting on her phone.

'She is frightfully pretty but unequivocally, a bitch, so I would have to say just a snog'

'Ok, Your turn, what about him?' Shirley said.

Shirley gestured to a young handsome man with gleaming white teeth and bed head hair. He was flirting with a blonde woman who was stroking his arm.

'Definitely shag' I said, falling against Shirley's shoulder laughing.

We both giggled.

'That's not an option! You harlot you'

'What about her then?' I nodded towards Greta who had an orange hue of curry around her mouth.

Shirley banged the table with his fist laughing. It sounded very loud in the quiet restaurant. Everyone instantly turned to look as the table rocked and glasses and plates rattled. He grinned broadly and waved idiotically to everyone. They slowly returned to their conversations and we continued the game.

I reached for my wine glass and sipped the dregs of the warm, red, woody liquid.

'So would you marry her then? You know, Greta?' I said as I finished my glass of wine.

'Certainly not. Anyway I am not sure you can buy a wedding dress in Khaki. With a hood. Dreadful woman'.

He laid his hand over mine.

'You on the other hand... that may be a different story' Shirley grinned at me. He had drunk eyes that couldn't focus on anything for long.

I slid my hand away from his. I was drunk but I knew what was going on.

'I'm already married so that's not an option' I said weary of the dangerous ground we were on. Shirley was funny and a welcome distraction.

But there was only one man for me

Silence fell and Shirley lifted his drink. We did not speak for several minutes.

'I couldn't marry a man called Shirley anyway' I said.

He boomed with laughter and banged the table again.

My husband returned and sat down beside me.

'What are you two talking about? Not trying to steal my wife away whilst she is in a vulnerable state are you?' He eyed Shirley and lifted his glass of Coke to his lips.

'Not at all boss, I've got my eye on that pretty lady. She will be mine tonight' Shirley said theatrically. He nodded towards Greta who had trapped a skinny, black haired man who was half her size, at the end of the table. He looked terrified and was pinned with fear to his seat. I could make out the words oppression, male supremacy and orgasm over the din in the restaurant. Greta spat as she spoke the skinny, cowering man

'Are you a rapist? Do you rape to get power?!' She said.

The man was furiously shaking his head as she leaned in closer. I stood up and my chair fell over behind me.

'Where are you going?' My husband said anxiously, as I marched over to Greta.

I stood in front of her my hands planted firmly on my hips.

Greta looked up from her prey.

'Yes?' She said

'I want a word with you!' I said in a growl.

'Well, go ahead. I'm all ears'

I looked to the quivering young man.

'By the way, your mum is outside in the car to pick you up' I said boldly.

He wrinkled his nose.

'But my mum lives in Belgium'

He looked confused then he realised what I was doing.

'No she doesn't, she is outside. Go!' I pointed to the door.

He eased himself away from Greta, picked up his coat and dashed from the restaurant.

Greta looked shocked then her eyes narrowed. I tried to stand up straight so I looked like a force to be reckoned with but I struggled, so leaned one hand on a chair for support.

'Hey! You! Greta! You only hate men because you can't get one to bonk you and while we are on the subject of feminism I would like to...I would really like to say that I do have a use for MY man.'

The restaurant fell silent and I knew I had an audience so what I had to say next needed to be good.

'He is a good wage earner, and...well, we have a lovely house on The Hill, don't you know... which I hate... but I will learn to like I'm sure. He is great with my kids. He can do all the voices in Peppa Pig. Can't you darling?' I said loudly across the table.

I looked over to him expectantly but he had his head in his hands. I was tempted to stop short in my crusade against Greta but the drink had done away with my inhibitions.

'He can't really cook but he makes a brilliant Shepherds Pie... and...and... he is fabulous in bed!'

Everyone at the table sniggered and tried to avoid making eye contact with my husband, their boss, who was red with embarrassment. He gave me a withering look.

Had I gone too far?

Maybe a tad.

Feeling my point had been sufficiently made I spun on my heel and turned round. I instantly felt dizzy and my face flushed hot. My stomach began to churn and I grabbed the back of a chair to steady myself before I unceremoniously vomited my dinner and copious amounts of wine onto the white tiled floor.

Everyone groaned including a waiter whose trouser leg was splattered from the knee to the hem. A few people from other tables stood up from their chairs to look. I stumbled forward, but a second round of sick came and sprayed down the back of Amanda's see though dress. She screamed and stood up holding her long curled hair up out of the way.

'What is wrong with you? You mad cow!' She was screaming as she ran to the toilets, chunks of onion bhaji falling off her back as she went.

My husband had leapt from his seat to pull me away from Greta but had recoiled as I began to retch. He now grabbed my arm and led me away, pulling our coats off the tall stand by the door as we went.

'We're going home' He said firmly.

'Ok' I agreed wiping my mouth with my coat sleeve.

What a great night, I thought as I was hauled back to the car.

Chapter 13

What an awful night, I thought as I woke up the next day. My throat sore and my head feeling like a steel band were playing inside it. I kicked the duvet back anticipating getting out of bed but then drew the cover back up and closed my aching eyes.

I heard the door open but I couldn't bring myself to look.

'I thought you might need these'

My husband placed two paracetamol and a glass of water on the bedside cabinet. He was holding a steaming mug of tea.

It read I Love Monorails on the side.

I opened one eye.

'Please tell me yesterday didn't happen and it was all just a bad dream'

I knew this was wishful thinking as my cut leg was throbbing and I could smell the sick in my hair.

'It definitely happened. I am not sure anyone will ever forget it' He laughed.

I was relieved he wasn't angry at me for getting so trashed and embarrassing him in front of his work colleagues.

'I'm sorry' I said.

I wanted to cry.

Just a little bit.

'What for? Puking up all over the dashboard in the car or calling my mother 'Sister Mary Clarence' and singing the entire score from Sister Act to her as she helped me carry you upstairs to bed.' He said.

'Oh no! She saw me drunk and nearly naked on the same day'

I groaned and pulled the duvet over my head.

He laughed and lay on the bed next to me.

'I am never drinking again' I pledged from my hiding place.

'It was quite funny. I think Jacques was pleased you helped him get away from Greta. He doesn't speak much English; he wouldn't have had a clue what she was going on about'

I slid up from under the duvet and into view.

'Really? Glad it wasn't a total car crash of a night then' I squinted at the clock.

'I'm working with Amber in an hour I better get up'

I eased myself to the edge of the bed. My head felt like a lead weight.

'How's it going with the Ebay selling?'

'I love it, I really do. Amber, she is so much fun and she is like me, so we get on' I said weakly.

'That's great babe'

He stroked my arm. It was amazing how he still seemed to love me despite the crap I gave him.

Amber roared with laughter as I relayed the antics of the work night out. We were busy packaging a new product which was a star shaped box with an 'imaginary friend' inside. We had sold 12 over the past week.

'Did your mum not say she was having a prayer meeting then?'Amber said.

'Evidently, but she must have asked me when I was busy and I do block her out a lot of the time'

'Greta sounds like she got what was coming to her' Amber said as she cut strips of parcel tape.

'Yeah, she was quite a force to be reckoned with. And that Amanda that I told you about...'

'Cock cup?'

'That's her. She came in a dress made out of a net curtain with barely anything underneath. The men were all gawping. She got a little more than she deserved when I threw up all over her' I laughed but it hurt.. My head was still throbbing and I wanted to rub my eyes out of their sockets.

Amber chuckled and said she was going to pop to the Post Office and would I mind listening out for Max who was in his cot upstairs asleep.

I heard the door close and continued wrapping the parcels. Then I remembered my dirty panties auction, I had forgotten all about it and it was due to finish today. I got up with a groan and sat down at the computer desk. Logging out of Amber's Ebay account, I tapped in my username and password and my account flashed up. I clicked 'activity' and my listing appeared.

Nine watchers.

Wow, not bad but there was only fifty two minutes left to go. I had hoped that a bidding war would have ensued by now and I would be competing hard with Amber's £30 a pair.

There was still time.

I clicked out and re-entered Amber's details which she had shared with me so I could watch our work auctions.

I didn't want her to know what I was up to.

I didn't want anyone to know.

Finished for the day with Amber I said goodbye to her at the door.

'Oh, I can't make baby group this week. Stanley, Max and I are going to Venice for a long weekend. He is off work and wanted to treat me' Amber said.

'Wow that will be lovely and he has been away for ages' I said.

'Eight weeks, I do miss him'

I wouldn't have gone to Roseville without Amber ordinarily but the people had been so kind and friendly that the prospect wasn't too daunting.

I told her I would see her tomorrow and walked down the road to our house.

Pauline had collected Maisy and had offered to care for the baby whilst I was at Amber's. She had not mentioned the humiliating events of the day before and had been kind enough to make me a round of toast and jam and a cup of strong coffee that morning in my Keep Calm and Carry On mug.

I found her sat at the table with Maisy and they were working on Maisy's project about the family. In the information, Mrs Dingle from the preschool had sent home, was a tick box questionnaire. Pauline was helping Maisy to complete it.

'This says 'Does your Grandparent have a pet?' well, I have birds so you tick that box' she pointed and Maisy marked the box with her pencil.

'What about Grandad, does he have a pet?' Maisy said, twirling her hair around her finger,

Pauline went quiet.

'Does Granddad have a pet Granny? Where is Grandad? I haven't seen him for ages and before he was always with you'.

I stood in the doorway and listened. Neither of them had noticed me.

'Grandad, doesn't live with Granny anymore Maisy' Pauline said.

'Why not?' Maisy's eyes widened.

'He, well, he...' Pauline struggled to answer. Her words seemed to stick in the throat.

I could read Pauline's body language and it looked like she was starting to cry.

I decided to help her out and stepped into the room.

'Do you need me to answer any questions?' I said to Maisy.

Maisy looked around, then jumped down and ran over to me hugging my legs.

'Mummy!'

Pauline's head hung low and she quickly wiped away a tear that was tumbling down one cheek.

'Maybe Granny would like a break now for a cup of tea' I said nodding towards the kitchen.

Pauline nodded and rose from her seat. She smiled and patted my arm fondly as she left.

'Why don't you draw a picture of our family Maisy? Look here's some paper. I will just nip and get the crayons.'

I ruffled Maisy's hair as she picked up the pencil and drew a big circle on the page.

I found Pauline stood by the kettle; she was fiddling with her necklace.

'I'll make it, Pauline. Why don't you sit down, you have had a busy morning with the girls'

Pauline lowered herself onto the sofa at the far end of the kitchen. She looked out of the French doors and tears fell one after the other down her face. I wanted to sit down beside her and give her a hug but I couldn't bring myself to. She was finally showing some emotion but this scared me.

I didn't know how to deal with an emotional Pauline. I moved over to her with a box of tissues and she tried to smile as she took one and wiped her red eyes.

'Do you think I'm boring?' She said and fixed her eyes on me.

Oh shit.

I now have to lie but look genuine because she was glaring at me so intently, waiting for an answer.

'No. I don't think you are boring' I said

Passable, but not an Oscar winning performance.

'Roger does, he said our relationship was monotonous'

'Well, you had been together a long time. It's hard to keep things exciting all the time'

A cliché. A classic newspaper agony aunt reply.

'Maybe I should have been more like you, parading around in my underwear and rolling home drunk' she scoffed.

Her words stung.

'It's not in my nature to be like that. Roger knew that when he married me'

I handed her another tissue.

'Now he has run off with that hussy who is no doubt far more glamorous than I am. Probably blonde with big bosoms'

'I wouldn't worry Pauline' I said absently as I went back making tea.

'She isn't like that at all'

I realised what I had said the moment the words fell from my mouth.

Fuck it.

'What?... Why?... Have you met her?' Pauline said her tone was barbed. She was suddenly on her feet.

'No, no, I, no I haven't met her' I said with a stammer.

Just then the front door slammed and my husband strolled casually into the kitchen.

I hoped his arrival would end the conversation and I would be absolved from having to explain myself.

'Alright?' He said looking at each of us in turn,

'You're early' I said, merrily. I was not merry at all.

He walked over to me and kissed my cheek.

I tried to deploy my 'something is bloody well wrong' look and gestured subtly to Pauline. However, he didn't read my signal and rubbed my head like you might a bothersome Labrador.

'Yeah, everyone at work is hung over and absolutely no good to me so I sent them all home. Oh and Amanda gave me this dry cleaning bill'

He dropped the slip onto the counter.

For an office junior she was quite a bumptious little madam, to ask her boss to pay to clean her dress. On the other hand his wife had ruined it quite monumentally with her puke.

'Have you met your father's...new woman?' Pauline said firmly.

'What?' My husband looked startled by the question which for him came out of the blue.

'Your father's new girlfriend, I don't know her name'

'Corina' I said suddenly.

I needed to stop talking. Preferably, forever.

'You two seem to know a lot about her. You told me you hadn't seen her or your father'

Pauline's anger was bubbling and she stood face on to us with her hands planted on each hip.

My husband sat down on the sofa next to Pauline and put his arm around her.

'Oh Corina...' He said softly.

Pauline looked into her son's face.

'Dad asked me to meet him, when I took you to Bellfield for the church meeting'

Her face looked thoughtful and she looked to the floor.

'When you went to the pub? They were there?' She said

'Yes, look mum... she is not a patch on you. She has brown teeth and tattoos and she couldn't even tell my fortune properly'

'She was the fortune teller?!' Pauline spat the words.

She looked disgusted. It was bad enough for her that Roger was associating with another woman but one who dabbled in the black arts that was unforgivable.

My husband went on to tell his mother everything he knew about Corina which only served to make Pauline angrier. She mocked Corina's traveller way of life and profession as a fairground owner.

She said Roger was a fantasist and that the relationship would never last.

'He won't cope with such an unstable lifestyle. Living in a caravan? Like a gypsy? He is a stickler for routine. He likes his breakfast at 8am, his bath run for him in the evening right after the news. I bet that caravan doesn't even have a bath. He would never manage in a shower'

My husband looked at me and I shrugged my shoulders.

'The thing is mum...he does seem like he is managing. He does seem, well, you know...happy'

Pauline sniffed and more tears started to fall. She sobbed loudly.

I rushed over with more tissues, glad to have a helping role.

My husband wrapped his arms around his mum, her snotty and tears damp face pressed against him.

'Maybe you should try and move on mum. You have lots of things to occupy you, you have your own life and you can stay here for as long as you want.'

I glared at him but his gaze stayed fixed downwards.

I felt for the woman but she was not staying with us forever. I would bloody move out before that happened.

'Thank you. You have been so hospitable since all this happened. It feels like a second home here already.' She said and turned to us, her mouth curling upwards at the corners.

I forced a smile as my hands clenched, my fingernails digging into my palms.

Maisy marched into the room waving her drawing in the air

'I'm done!'

'Let's have look' my husband took the piece of paper and I could see he was trying the fathom out what it was.

'It's our family, daddy. Look that's you' Maisy said, pointing.

'Why have I got such a big head?'

We all chuckled.

'Because you are so clever and need a big head for all your brains'Maisy said.

My husband grinned and looked again at the picture.

'So, how come mummy has such a tiny head?'

He smirked and handed me the picture. Right at the edge of the page was a stick drawing of a woman with a triangle shaped dress and a miniscule head which Maisy had clearly had trouble fitting features on to. My smile appeared to be hanging off the sides of my head and my eyes were where my ears should be.

'I ran out of room'

I handed Maisy her picture.

'Beautiful, darling' I ruffled her hair and she meowed like a cat.

Maisy looked at Pauline and her brow furrowed.

'Why are you crying Granny?'

'Oh, just having a silly five minutes dear. I'm alright'

'Here, you are in my picture too'

She handed the paper to Pauline who studied it. Maisy had drawn her Granny in the centre of the page; she was surrounded by hearts and butterflies. Above her Maisy had written 'I love you' in pink crayon.

Pauline welled up and she reached for another tissue.

'I love you too Maisy dear'

A sugary sweet occasion occurred and nobody spoke.

'Everyone want tea?' I said finally ending the Kodak moment.

I clicked the kettle on.

Chapter 14

I drove into Roseville hoping I would remember the way to the baby group without Amber's help. I felt brave making the trip to the new playgroup without her. I passed familiar buildings and shops. I was relieved the spitting girl was off duty and not at the traffic lights. The bus stop no longer had the incontinent old man stood by it either but I felt sure I had come the right way. I eventually turned into the playgroup car park, relieved to have found it but nervous to be there.

My stomach knotted.

Come on, grow a pair.

You used to manage a team of six at work, this should be easy. I pulled open the door to the hall. Once again, it was a hive of activity. I carried the baby in and felt relieved when Bernardetta spotted us and strode across the hall.

'Welcome, welcome. So lovely to see you again.' She said warmly.

She took the baby's little hand and kissed it.

'Amber is not here today? Is she sick?'

'No, no she's fine. She has gone to Venice'

'Hey, hey, good for some eh?!' Bernardetta looked impressed.

'Go find a seat. We are doing feet painting today. I'm going to put the finished picture up on the wall' Bernardetta gestured towards some empty chairs along the far wall.

A large piece of paper had been rolled out across the floor and the children were walking their painted footprints onto it. They were giggling and dancing as they filled the white paper with coloured footprints.

I sat down and laid the baby under a play arch, she reached to bat the hanging toys. I watched the other children for a while and then a familiar face appeared by the kitchen.

It was Riley.

He saw me and waved. I was in two minds about whether I wanted to talk to him. Amber certainly had an issue with him but I was curious to find out what that issue was.

The nosey cow that I am.

My mental debating became academic as he dodged through running infants and scattered toys to where I sat.

'Hi, nice to see you again' Riley said earnestly as if he had been hoping I would be there.

'Hi, yes, you too' I said and immediately felt the awkwardness. What would I say next? My cheeks flushed.

Riley sat down next to me and leaned forward his muscled arms resting on his knees.

'How old's your little one?' He said.

'She's nearly six months' I said relieved that he was willing to have baby talk as an ice breaker.

We watched the baby as she held her feet and rocked from side to side.

'No Amber today?' He said, looking at me, then down at his trainers.

I did not know whether to tell him anything about Amber, she may prefer him not to know.

'No, she's on holiday' I said

'Ah, ok' I could hear disappointment in his voice.

We sat without speaking.

Riley was tall and well built, his fitted black t' shirt stretched across his toned chest and he wore black baggy tracksuit bottoms with white stripes down the side. His trainers were bold red with blue laces, they looked expensive. He had a square jaw and round brown eyes edged with long dark lashes. He was attractive but he knew it.

'How do you know Amber?' He said casually.

I would keep my answers brief.

'She's my neighbour'

'Ok'

He leaned back in his seat.

'And where are you from?' Riley said

'Look, I kind of got the feeling Amber has some kind of problem or something with you. I'm not sure. But I don't know that she would want me to be talking about her when she isn't here. I'm so sorry'

He nodded and laced the fingers on each of his hands together and flexed them away until they clicked.

'I might be wrong' I said.

'Actually, you're not wrong. She does have a problem with me' Riley rubbed his palms on his thighs.

He looked anxious.

Riley stroked his stubbly chin and I rubbed my neck which was beginning to sweat.

He bit his bottom lip with his teeth before speaking again.

'I caused a lot of trouble for Amber, a long time ago and I have wanted to say that I'm sorry ever since, but I didn't know where she was. Then someone, you know Joe from the kitchen last week?' He said.

I confirmed that I did, with a nod.

'He comes here with his nephew and he said that Amber had started coming here. I was amazed, she went off the radar so long ago I thought I would never get a chance to explain' Riley looked at me, his eyes dewy and sad.

'Amber mentioned she used to live around here' I said

'She did, I was still at school when I last saw her. She got into...' He trailed off.

Again, he stopped and turned to look at me. His large brown eyes, wide and penetrating.

We remained silent for a few moments. I took a deep breath which unintentionally sighed out noisily.

'Has she told you about her past?' Riley said.

'Erm...briefly. I know the main parts' I lied unconvincingly and then instantly felt guilty for prying into my new friend's life.

My only friend on The Hill.

'Well, when she started as an escort, she changed' He said.

What the..?

I nearly choked but I tried to disguise it as coughing. I was supposed to be all informed.

'Her family didn't know a thing, but I felt she was putting herself at risk going with different men and I was scared for her. She became so hard and wouldn't give her friends on the estate the time of day'

Riley was opening up. I hadn't had to prise any information out of him with clever conversational techniques. It was literally spilling from his mouth. No effort wheedling required.

Riley told me that Amber had worked as a call girl after dating a night club promoter who lived in London. He was a lot older than her and mixed in a social circle which included, drug dealers, gang leaders and high class brothel owners. She was young, naïve and easily influenced a perfect candidate for exploitation. Riley confirmed that Amber had been flattered by a woman in a new funky nightclub, who ran a company employing escorts. Amber had debts mounting up and rent to pay. She would have never have worked as a common prostitute, especially not in her own neighbourhood. However, working as an escort in London suggested glamour and a luxurious lifestyle. Riley had heard from one of Amber's old school friends who she did kept in touch with, that she had earned enough to buy a flat and had ditched her promoter boyfriend who had given her a black eye and three broken ribs as a leaving present.

I sat stunned; it was like an EastEnders plotline, highly improbable yet hugely addictive. I wanted to know more. However, it did go some of the way towards explaining a few inconsistencies.

I had always thought that Amber didn't really fit into her own life.

I wasn't sure how she got from being a working class girl on a rough housing estate to living in luxury on The Hill. I had wondered before how a Roseville girl, like Amber had managed to meet Stanley and his six figure pay packet.

'Is that how she met Stanley?' I said.

'Who's Stanley? The Oil guy? Amber's punter?'

'What?! He was her...?' I said loudly.

Too loudly.

He looked around, and then gestured with his hand for me to speak more quietly.

'I don't know, I just heard from her friend, Rochelle. I used to go out with her and she was a gossip. I think so though. She didn't tell you about this then?' Riley said.

'Oh some, but not all the details' I said quickly, keeping up the pretence.

I was shell shocked.

'Anyway, the reason she hates me is because I found out about what she was doing. You know, being a hooker...well, escort and all that. I was honestly terrified for her. We had grown up together and if I am truthful, I was in love with her. I was crushed when I heard she was selling herself. Maybe not on a street corner...but it's basically the same thing'.

Riley rubbed his knees with his hands.

'Amber was one of the good ones 'round here. She was smart, you know. Could've have made something of herself. Until that nightclub dick got his claws into her'

I needed to get up and walk around to expel some of my nervous energy but I was stuck to my seat.

Riley turned in his chair to face me. I was suddenly aware of the noisy hall and all the people in the room. I looked down at the baby who was happily chewing her toes.

Riley spoke again.

'Amber knew that I knew about her but she begged me not to say anything. I stupidly got drunk at a party and blabbed to her brother and he told their mum. Then World War Three happened.'

He told me that Amber still saw her family once a month when she lived in London. It was when she came home for a family Christening, that Amber's mum confronted her.

He took a deep breath and fell silent.

I studied him as he sat quietly.

'I can imagine what happened' I said.

I was desperate to start this unbelievable flow of information.

Riley's face was serious.

'It kicked off big style... her mum pushed her out of the front door. I was there and her mum told Amber she had never felt so ashamed in her entire life'

I listened intently and nodded.

'Her mum let it slip that she had heard about it from me. Amber told me she hated my guts and left. I never saw her again. Well, until she turned up here'

'My God' I said, in genuine shock.

The room had emptied. We hadn't noticed. As if we had been sat talking in a bubble.

Benardetta was wiping tables and she glanced over and smiled.

Riley was on his feet

'When you see her, please tell her I will be here next week. I really want to apologise to her for being such a twat'

He had been a bit of a twat but he actually seemed like a lovely guy.

'I will' I said

I watched him cross the hall towards the door.

I had been so engrossed talking to Riley I hadn't been paying much attention to the baby. She was babbling and her laying on her front.

She had rolled over for the first time and I had missed it.

Chapter 15

I sprayed the wilting flowers with the garden hose as Maisy played in the tree house. The tree house was positioned between the parting branches of an old oak tree and had two rooms and windows looking out in every direction. The foot of the garden was like a mini forest, it looked magical as the sun shone through the leaves. If you believed in fairies, you would certainly think that they lived there. It was a little girl's dream and Maisy had excitedly climbed the ladder up to the tree house when we had first viewed the house. The children of the previous owners had shown her the tyre swing and the brook which ran behind the trees. They said it was home to frogs and newts. I bent and plucked a dandelion from the flower bed. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it free and read the message.

'Venice amazin! Fancy coffee at Caffeine Junkie tomoz at 10am?'

Amber.

I hadn't been able to sleep since Friday as the news about Amber had gone around in my head.

I needed to reply to the text, confirming the meet. I would do it later.

What would I say to her?

Would I say anything at all?

I had lain in bed the previous night compiling a list of pros and cons regarding telling Amber that I knew about her past. As it turned out, her rather seedy and tumultuous past. If I told her I knew she may think I was an interfering busy body. The minute she flew off to Italy, I set about digging for information about her from a man she despised. We had only been friends for a short while but we had gelled and I cared for her. She might worry that I would think less of her.

I wouldn't.

I didn't.

It may make our working situation awkward. Would I be forced to quit? Would I be stuck at home all the time with Pauline who would inform me that I should occupy myself with duties of the home? I should be modest in my dress, submissive to my man and sober, in every sense of the word.

On the other hand, I could help Amber to resolve her differences and have a happy ever after ending with her family. Why was she driving miles to Roseville to attend the baby group when she ran the risk of bumping into them?

Did she want to see them but feared rejection?

Maybe if I told her I knew I could support her, she might take the plunge and go to her mum's house and sort out their differences. Even building bridges with Riley would be a start. The thoughts tumbled through my mind and I decide to get out of bed go downstairs to get a drink. My phone buzzed on the telephone table in the hall and I was startled as I crept passed it in the dark. I breathed deeply and picked it up, I had a text message. I read it and it said my Ebay auction had ended and offered congratulations as my item had sold.

I excitedly scuttled into the study, switched on the desk lamp and fired up the computer. I logged in but the page was taking a long time to load. The small timer circle was telling me that it was still loading and I tapped the table with my fingers impatiently.

'Oh come on, come on'

The circle began to spin more quickly and the home page appeared. I couldn't understand why it was so slow. Perhaps everyone was up at two o'clock in the morning checking their dirty knickers Ebay auction.

I clicked in and found my listing. There must have been some kind of mistake. I gazed at the monitor. I clicked back to the home page and then into my account again just to check things was working. The same text appeared on the screen and I was furious.

'Congratulations! You're item sold for £0.99'

I was incredulous.

Why had only one person bid on my pants?

They were from La Senza for crying out loud!

The rose display must have put them off. The worse thing about it was I would have to go to the trouble of packaging the used knickers and taking them to the Post Office all for a lousy 99p.

Why had Amber's sold for so much more?

Hers were from bloody Primark, for God's sake!

I pushed my bare feet against the underside of the table and propelled myself away in the wheeled office chair. I then stomped back upstairs to bed and lay gritting my teeth wondering about the lucky new owner of my unwashed pants.

The next day was warm and still. I wandered out into the garden clutching my phone. I started to tap out a text reply to Amber and I was fairly sure in my head what I was going to do.

Glad u had fun, can't wait 2 here bout it. See u soon at CJ xx

I decided to put the dilemma with Amber out of my mind for a while and enjoy being in the garden. I could cross that bridge when I came to it. I sat on the edge of the square raised pond and gazed into the shimmering water at the Koi carp. They swam serenely through the water, enjoying the sunlight without a care in the world. I envied them. I dipped my finger in and an orange and yellow fish glided up to it and sucked the tip.

'Penny for them' a voice said.

I turned and saw my husband stood on the patio with his hands deep in his pockets.

'Just wondering what to cook for tea tonight'

He smiled, knowing that was very unlikely.

'I've got to go to Birmingham to do a presentation for a client on Friday. It's an early start but I thought you might like to come. Night away, hotel.' He smiled, his eyes twinkled.

I really did want to go.

It would no doubt be a fancy hotel with a spa and I could lounge around in a white robe beside a tranquil pool while he did his presentation. Then we could have dinner together in the evening. I could wear my little black dress again now that the dry cleaner had done away with the sick stains.

But not Friday.

Friday. That was the day Riley had asked for Amber to meet him. I had thought together we might be able to persuade Amber to see her mum. Evidently, she lived just across the road from the baby group.

What if by being there for her on Friday I could help her to rebuild things with her mum? My mum had died when I was pregnant with Maisy and I would have done anything to spend more time with her and to have handed her, her first grandchild.

I had to be there.

A helicopter flew noisily overhead and we both looked up at it.

'I would really love to but I have got baby group on Friday'

'Can't you miss it this week? I have checked things out with mum and she will have the kids. I will treat you to a hot stone massage' He came up behind me a rubbed my knotted shoulders.

I sighed, desperate to be selfish but choosing to be a good friend.

'Look, there is something I need to do on Friday. I will tell you about it when it's all sorted...but not yet'. I said and turned my face to him.

He looked at me and I could tell he was hurt that I was keeping something from him.

'It's nothing bad, just girly stuff with Amber'

He shrugged.

'Really? Ok. Thought you'd be up for a night away' He went back inside the house.

I felt bad not telling him but he least he didn't ask me to.

Suddenly, Maisy's voice screamed out and I was torn from my thoughts. I ran down the long garden following the screams and found her sat beside the brook madly shaking her leg. On her foot she had a pink spotty Wellington. She saw me and stopped screaming long enough to shout.

'It's in my boot mummy!'

'What is?!'

She started screaming and wriggling her leg more furiously.

'Help mummy! It's stuck in there. I want it out!'

I knelt down and slowly eased the boot of her foot and we both watched as a tiny newt climbed up from inside.

'Look Maisy it's a newt!' I pointed to the little green creature.

'Oh, I thought it was a baby dinosaur that liked eating toes for lunch' She giggled

I let the newt run on to my hand. It stayed very still and Maisy leaned it to examine it.

'Can I keep it as a pet?' She said and looked at me hopefully.

I smiled, shook my head and gently dropped it close to the water and we watched as it scurried away.

Chapter 16

Amber was sat in the window seat in Caffeine Junkie when I arrived. I had decided to leave Maisy and the baby with their dad who had the day off. He had promised to take them swimming. The summer holidays had begun and the town was busy with families. Max was sat in a highchair pushed up to the table and he was demolishing a chocolate muffin. His face and hands were covered in fluffy cake and sticky with melted chocolate chips. I edged passed him carefully avoiding his flailing arms and eased along the bench seat opposite Amber.

I ordered a coffee and a cranberry and orange cookie at the counter. The coffee shop was full and the two waitresses looked like they were struggling to cope with the number of customers.

'So, how was Venice? I am extremely jealous of course' I said

Amber poured milk into her dark coffee.

'Oh it was fantastic! You have got to go. Did the ride in a gondola which goes without saying in Venice of course.'

'Of course. Wow, that's great' I said enthusiastically.

'Stanley wanted to see the Venetian art. I'm not usually into that kind of thing but I was converted. It was breathtaking stuff'

I listened but couldn't help watch as a man barked at the waitress informing her that he had been waiting more than twenty minutes for his Americano coffee. He said if it wasn't on his table in the next minute he would walk out. Amber glanced over her shoulder to see what I was looking at.

'Caffeine junkie wanting his fix' I whispered.

Amber nodded and took a bite of her Bakewell tart.

'The food was out of this world. I have eaten so much this weekend. I struggled to get into my jeans this morning' Amber said.

I told her she look great. She did. Her skin was lightly tanned, the dark circles under her eyes were less heavy and she positively glowed. She had obviously benefited from a break off work and time with Stanley.

I glanced again at the disgruntled customer who was looking critically at the coffee that had just clattered down in front of him.

'So what have you been up to? Did you get Maisy's project finished in time?' Amber said.

'Yes, some of my best work if I do say so myself'

We laughed.

'I hope it reaches Mrs Dingle's high standards and the school put Maisy in good groups' I said.

'I don't want her condemned to the divvy table on the strength of one project'

'She's a bright spark, you don't need to worry. Kids shouldn't have so much pressure put on them at that age. They should be dressing up as princesses or pretending to fight pirates. Not worrying if their 'd' is written the right way around.' Amber said.

I still hadn't had my coffee and cookie.

One waitress was cleaning a table so an elderly couple could sit down and the other was watching something rotate in the microwave. The shitty service had started to irritate me.

Amber began to wipe the muffin debris from her son's hands piling the used napkins in a heap on the table.

'Oh I forgot to ask. How did baby group go?'

Shit, this was it. Roll with it and don't bottle out.

'Yeah, I found it ok. Didn't get spat on this time so that was a result' I said, forcing a laugh.

Amber chuckled and supped her coffee.

'Your coffee still isn't here, you have been waiting a while' Amber said looking around for a waitress.

She turned in her chair and we both watched as one waitress rang items into the till and the other redistributed the dwindling number of sausage rolls across the hot cabinet. They had clearly forgotten me.

Amber turned back to me and the heat was back on.

'So did anyone chat to you at the baby group? I hope people were friendly'

I took a deep breath. .

'Bernardetta was lovely, she said hello when I came in. Then I sat down and Riley came and talked to me' I said, conscious I was gabbling the words.

There, it was out. Gabbled but out.

Amber put down the last piece of Bakewell tart that she had just raised to her mouth to eat.

'Oh and what did he have to say?'

Damn, she had heard.

Her tone was still light but I sensed this was contrived. Her eyes flit left, and then down, then right at me.

'Erm...well...he said a lot of things. He said you were friends a long time ago...'

'Yes, well not anymore' Amber said interrupting.

I could see the anger swelling in her. It was a sharp contrast to her usual self and I watch her emotion bubble with curiosity.

'No, he said you don't like him but that he wanted to say sorry or something' I said, trying desperately to sound nonchalant.

I needed to keep my cool with this.

'I don't not like him. I detest him.' Amber said, looking my straight in the eye.

She fiddled with the popper on the bib around Max's neck and cursed when it wouldn't snap free. Rolling the dirty bib up she pushed it into the side pocket of her bag. She then fixed me with her stare.

She was thinking.

I felt like I was in the sights of a sniper's gun and the triggered was about to be pulled.

Where was my bloody coffee!

We held our silence for what seemed like an intolerable amount of time. I bit my lip nervously and tried to stay composed.

Then Amber spoke.

'He told you didn't he?'

I didn't know if this was a test. He could have told me anything. I really wanted to be honest with her and not play games. I didn't want to lie. The atmosphere was becoming dark and heavy.

Why couldn't we just talk about Venice? The Goldala's? The art?

'Look, he did tell me some stuff...but I want to help, Amber.'

She raised her eyes and ran her hand through her long dark hair.

She fixed her dark eyes on me.

'It's all in the past and it can stay there for all I care. I can imagine what you think of me now.'

She looked at me her eyes glistening.

I didn't know if I was able to handle this.

My fight or flight reflex was kicking in.

'I don't think anything. I have no right to take the moral high ground. I feel sad for you that you lost your family and I really want to help you sort things out.'

'It's no use. My mum slammed the door in my face all those years ago and said she never wanted to see me again. She meant it'

I watched as a tear hung precariously on her eyelashes.

Amber lifted Max from his highchair and cuddled him tightly on her lap.

'Your mum was angry...we all say things we don't mean in the heat of the moment. It was a shock that's all. You are still her daughter.'

The flood gates opened and tears cascaded down her pretty face and splashed onto her white top making little see through patches.

'Will you come on Friday? Talk to Riley? He really cares about you. He told me that he loved you' I said.

Amber frowned and looked confused.

'What?' She said, wiping tears quickly from her cheek with her fingertips.

'He loved you and was scared of what you were getting yourself into'

Where was my coffee?

They had definitely forgotten my order. My mouth was as dry and my tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth. All my saliva had gone. I wasn't sure that coffee would be enough. A double vodka and orange was what I really needed.

I sensed that Amber was softening as we talked and with some gentle coaxing she might be brought around. I judged that she had already decided she wanted to see her family again when she starting going back to her old neighbourhood, every week. She was hoping to see someone she knew, even if she couldn't muster the courage to talk to them.

'Will you come on Friday?' Please, for me? Actually, not for me, for you.'

Amber sucked in her cheeks and looked idly out of the window.

'My mum is a stubborn woman' she said.

'Then you need to be the one to make the first move'

Her hand was resting on the table and I reached over and lay my hand on it. I gave it a squeeze.

'The worse that can happen is she turns you away. I will be there if that happens. At least you would know'

She kissed the top of Max's head, he nestled into her.

'She has never even met Max, or Rufus' Amber said wistfully.

Max looked up at his mum with wide eyes, her tears fell down on him.

The waitresses both stood by the coffee machine, I felt confident that one or the other was finally making my drink. My throat was dry and my shoulders ached with tension.

Amber spoke.

'Just let me think about it, I will let you know tomorrow. I have tried to bury the whole situation so to start digging it up isn't easy'

'I know' I said. It was not going to be easy at all.

I was delighted that the first hurdle had been cleared. I had broached the subject and she hadn't said no.

'Where is your coffee? It's ridiculous!' Amber said.

Amber stood up, stretched over and handed Max to me, then marched over to the counter. The waitresses had their backs to her. One waitress was holding out her mobile phone and the other was giggling at something on it. Amber, who was leaning onto the counter top with both hands, banged once hard and they both jumped.

Her face was serious.

'My friend has been waiting for her coffee for over half an hour. You call this place Caffeine Junkie then you make everyone go cold turkey!'

'It's just coming' one waitress said with a stutter and busied herself with the coffee machine.

'She also ordered a cookie'

Amber jabbed her finger at the Perspex dome under which were the biscuits. The second waitress took a pair of tongs, lifted the dome and took out a round cookie. She dropped it on a plate and put down the tongs.

Amber gave her a hard stare.

The waitress looked at her for a moment before the penny dropped. She sighed, then retrieved the tongs from the worktop, picked up the dome again and removed another cookie. She placed it on the plate next to the first.

'Free of charge' the waitress said and forced a smile.

'Why thank you, very kind' said Amber curtly.

She turned, gave me a look of victory and a wink. She walked over and put the cookies on the table. The waitress followed closely behind with a steaming cup of coffee.

'I only ordered one cookie' I said as Amber set the plate down in front of me.

'I know...but we got the other one free for being such patient customers'. She said.

Amber glared at the waitress who reluctantly nodded in confirmation.

'Great' I said and grinned broadly.

I took a long awaited sip of my coffee and a bite out of the Cranberry and Orange cookie.

'So you will let me know tomorrow?' I asked.

Amber nodded.

Chapter 17

The floor was littered with the various pieces of a self assembly cabin bed and for all we cared it could stay that way. We had started to build Maisy's new bed nearly two hours previously and so far we had screwed together the ladder and made a right angle out of pink wood. About an hour before, we were making headway. We had constructed the frame but we then realised each part had been joined together the wrong way around so we had to start again. A screwdriver was thrown. It made a dent in my wardrobe door. My beautiful assembled wardrobe.

I pushed open Maisy's bedroom door with my foot returning from the kitchen with refreshments. I rested the two glasses of lemonade on the little pink desk and looked down at my husband. He was on all fours kneeling over the assembly instructions.

'That piece isn't in here' He said pointing at the poorly printed instructions.

I scanned the floor but was mentally wondering if we should just throw it all back in the box and give up.

'Can you see that bit? It's not here. It's not here! Long thin piece of wood with...one...two holes in it. Two holes' He said rummaging through the pile of planks on the bedroom carpet.

I bent down and tried to look enthusiastic in my hunt for the missing wood. I moved things around with my foot a little. I also lifted some pyjamas that were on the floor back onto the chair.

'I've had enough. I will take it back tomorrow. Long, thin, with two holes. I need that piece before I can put the rest of it together. Bloody thing!' He slammed the tool box shut.

'She can sleep on the airbed for another night. She likes it, say it's like camping' I said

He threw me a look that made me want to retreat downstairs to an episode of Corrie.

Maisy's old bed had been dismantled when we moved house but we couldn't find the screws to put it back together. They were in a safe place my husband assured me, but this place was so safe neither of us could find it. We had ordered the cabin bed hoping to receive it within seven days but only after several angry phone calls to 'Snooze' Britain's self acclaimed top bed company, did the bed finally arrive five weeks later.

'I'm just going to nip downstairs and check on the baby'

My husband had started to re-read the cabin bed instructions aloud in an angry voice. He was not allowing himself to be defeated after all. I made my escape before anymore of his tools were turned into missiles.

Downstairs, I stroked the baby's cheek as she slept in her bouncy chair. She was breathing softly and her little fingers flexed when I touched her. The living room television was on but the sound was down. I watched as The One Show began.

'Hello dear, how's things upstairs?' Pauline said, appearing around the living room door.

I didn't know if she meant things with the bed or things in my head.

'Not that well, I don't think it will be finished tonight.'

Alan Carr was being interviewed and I wanted to hush Pauline so I could turn up the volume and watch.

'Oh, maybe I could go and help?' Pauline said and nodded.

I tore my gaze from the screen reluctantly.

'I wouldn't bother; you will likely get a hammer thrown at your head. He is missing a piece of wood and it's brought construction to a shuddering halt' I said.

Pauline slowly raised her hand and clenched within her fingers was a long thin piece of wood. I counted the holes in it. One. Two.

'Am in trouble?' She said and chuckled.

I didn't know what to say.

'I was using it to knock the cobwebs from the ceiling corners in the guest bedroom. It's like a bear's cave in there. I hope you don't mind, but I did your room too.'

I tightened my fists into balls and my teeth were gritted together.

'I would have used a feather duster but Maisy said you don't have one. She said you don't really dust' She said and shrugged.

If my husband didn't hit Pauline with a low flying object, I planned to beat her about the ears with a long thin piece of wood with two holes in it.

Left for another day, the cabin bed lay stacked in a pile under the window in Maisy's bedroom and she was again fast asleep on the air filled mattress. My husband and I lay slumped on the living room sofas, the remnants of Chunky Monkey ice cream melting in a Ben & Jerry's tub on the table between us. The film had started and it seemed familiar, then there was a scene I didn't recognise.

'I thought I had seen this before, but I don't think I have now'

My husband used his toe to turn up the volume on the remote control which lay on the floor.

'No, I've not seen this bit. Is he trying to kill her?' I said.

'Yes'

'Was he pretending to be a police man then?'

'Can we just watch it' He said despairingly.

I was not absorbed enough to follow the plot closely so I started to reading a magazine. Kerry Katona was turning over a new leaf, one article declared.

Again?

Katie Price was getting married.

Again?

That woman has more rings than the Olympics I concluded before chucking the magazine onto the carpet.

The film credits rolled and I now had permission to speak.

'So, what presentation have you got on Friday?' I asked.

'It's a promotion. I'm trying to get new investors in the business as this would be the perfect time to expand. The demand is definitely out there.'

'Do you mind that I'm not going with you?' I said.

He stood up and stretched.

'I'm a bit disappointed I suppose. Not sure what's so important that you can't come. I thought you'd be up for it' He stood with his hands behind his head.

I would have been up for it, it was just bad timing.

'We can do something together on Sunday. Who is going up to Birmingham with you?' I said.

'I'm not sure yet, funnily enough not many of my staff actually wants to spend their weekend being my dog's body. One of them will have to because I need help with setting up the presentation. I can't give a speech and do that at the same time.'

The door pushed open and we both looked half expecting a sleepy Maisy coming to tell us the airbed had gone down again. However, it was Pauline, she was wearing a quilted pale blue dressing gown and her hair was curled around lots of small rollers. In her hand she held a glass of water.

'You're up late mum'

Pauline usually retired to bed at ten o'clock each night and I could normally hear her snoring by quarter past. It was now nearly midnight.

'Yes, I just wanted to say that I won't be here for dinner tomorrow as I'm going with Carol to Scottish country dancing.'

My husband and I raised our eyebrows.

I could tell he was picturing his mother dressed in a long white dress with tartan sash, dancing The Gay Gordons.

'Her friend Brenda goes and they say it's marvellous fun. I though it may be a start, you know, moving on' Pauline said.

I couldn't remember a time when I had ever seen her dance. It transpires she didn't even have a first dance at her wedding saying she was not interested in all that romantic hosh posh.

My husband went over to Pauline and gently kissed her on the cheek.

'That's great mum. Do you need picking up?'

'No dear. Carol gets a lift from a gentleman who plays the accordion for the dancers, so I will take a ride with them'

We both smiled at her, before she bid us goodnight and went upstairs to bed.

'Well, I have never known anyone try and get over their marriage break up by Scottish country dancing. Pole dancing, yes. Scottish country dancing, no' I said with a smirk.

'Yeah, it would have been so much better if she was learning to pole dance' My husband said ironically.

I really didn't want that image in my head.

'She may have been inspired by my little show the other night' I said with a wink.

'The only thing she was inspired to do that night, was to never host another prayer meeting in our house'

We both laughed

I started to switch off the lamps.

'Good, I don't want her and Carol and all the Holy Joes cluttering up my living room when I might want to...' I didn't know how to finish my sentence.

'Perform a live strip show?'

'Well, yes if I want to!' I said indignantly.

It's my house. Bought and paid for.

'Let's go to bed and you can show me your moves. I missed it last time...

I do love you' He said softly.

I looked him in the eyes.

'I love you too, Noah' I said before easing forward to kiss him.

'Are things here on The Hill getting better then?' He smiled.

He was very handsome. I had made a good choice when I married him.

'Come on Gypsy Rose Lee, let's get you to bed'

He slapped my bum and chased me up the stairs.

Chapter 18

My husband's name is Noah.

He was christened Noah Isaac Green at The Church of Christ in Bellfield. His parents Pauline and Roger were delighted they were having a baby after being told Pauline couldn't bear any. Noah arrived on Sunday 2nd of December 1973 weighing an eye watering 10 pound 7 ounces. He remained their only child and very much the apple of their eye.

When I first met Noah's parents, as is tradition his mother got out the photo album and I nodded along nervously, yet enthusiastically to her commentary as she turned the pages. There was a photograph of a young Noah carrying the Scout flag during the church parade and there was one of him helping the vicar hand out the consecrated bread, a big grin spread across his face. Another had been taken at a church fete and Noah had just won a tin of tuna and a bottle of Vimto on the tombola.

He looked unimpressed.

The last photograph had shown Noah as a choirboy dressed in a black smock with white ruffles. His mouth was wide in song.

He hated it.

As a child he had been a mother's dream, angelic and compliant, Godly and earnest. As I sat, as Noah's 21 year old girlfriend looking through his mother's album, I wondered how this could possibly be.

When I had met him he had been a right dirty sod.

It was Fresher's Week at University College, London and my room on campus was jumping with five girls all getting ready to go out on a pub crawl.

Excited and anxious about living away from home for the first time, the girls on my block had giddily introduced themselves to each other as we made the bare, empty rooms our own. It seemed as though if you didn't make at least one friend in the first thirty seconds of arriving at the university your fate would be to spend the next three years alone, rocking in a corner.

The girls I had lived with were all different.

There was the pretty one, the funny one, the outrageous one, who scared us all a little, the Welsh one and me.

Maybe we were the inspiration for The Spice Girl's who appeared on the music scene the following year.

I was the fixer.

When the rest of the girls had problems like failing exams, being dumped by their boyfriend, inexplicably gaining 30lbs over the summer break or not having enough money to even buy Tampax, I helped to fix it.

We hit the town after each changing our outfits about six times; we were ready to make our mark on London.

I was dressed in a short plaid skirt, knee high socks, and cropped white top and green neon earrings.

I thought I looked fantastic. I actually looked shocking, but faired slightly better on the fashion-o-meter than the Welsh one. She, after several unsuccessful costume changes had got cross and grumpily complained that no-one would fancy her anyway and had put her shell suit back on.

We had all breezed in to the first bar that we found before leaving a moment later, after discovering they were having a darts tournament and it was members only.

The next pub was pumping out familiar music and we jostled though its doorway, pushing and giggling. We bought brightly coloured cocktails and sat on high stools around a ledged pillar. It was not until Madonna's Like A Virgin finished playing on the sound system, replaced by George Michael's Freedom 90 that we realised we might not be in the best place to find ourselves some fabulous new boyfriends.

Not straight ones anyway.

We downed our drinks and awkwardly edged passed two men slow dancing to Kylie and Jason's 'Especially for You' and tottered out into the night air. We fell about laughing.

Carefully surveying the next bar from the outside, we concluded that this might be the place. It was busy, the music was hip. Ice, Ice Baby by Vanilla Ice was pounding from the amplifiers. From the door we could see the bar was awash with good looking, young men. We went in then drank and danced the night away.

The Welsh one was body popping for a clapping audience. Then, the Bar Manager noticed she was wearing trainers and she was thrown out. She stomped back to campus bitterly.

The outrageous one had sung Karaoke and then disappeared after saying she had been headhunted by a talent scout. I warned her to be careful as she left arm in arm with a middle aged man wearing a black suit and a shoestring tie. The pretty one was sat at the bar looking bored, smoking a cigarette.

The funny one was entertaining a group of men, who listened intently whilst she spoke and then roared with laughter, falling around uncontrollably in their seats.

I was on the dance floor, my head fuzzy with neon cocktails. I danced the only dance I knew. The stepping side to side dance. A tall man with big ears and a bulbous spot on his nose sidled up to me. He was wearing a badge that said Kiss me! It's my birthday. He pointed to his badge and grinned. His goofy teeth bursting free from his puffy lips. I shook my head and just mouthed 'happy birthday'.

I figured he probably wore that badge every week.

He pretended to cry as the music belted out from the speakers. I looked at him blankly hoping he would move on to the next unfortunate girl.

The 'birthday boy' was spun around by a handsome man with dark hair and glistening blue eyes. He was wearing blue Levi jeans and a dark flannel shirt.

'Hey! We are moving onto the next place. You coming?' He shouted to his friend over the din.

Birthday Boy nodded and they both looked at me. I was swaying like a tree in the wind.

'You want to come?' The handsome man said to me.

I felt like I had seen him at university. I had possibly seen him in the library although more likely the Union bar.

My friends were all otherwise engaged, he was gorgeous so I nodded keenly.

I picked up my handbag which I been dancing around and followed the two men.

We were joined by five other boy students in the doorway, one of whom was wearing his Batman boxer shorts over the top of his khaki slacks and was pretending to be a superhero. The handsome man put his arm around me and I flinched. I discovered he was getting close so he could talk and I would hear him over the music.

'I'm Noah!' He yelled

'Noel?!' I bellowed back.

'Noah!' He repeated.

I smiled.

'As in 'Who Built The Ark?'' I shouted.

He used both thumbs to point at himself and looked proud.

'That was me'. His eyes twinkled.

We drank and danced until the early morning. I had fought to keep Noah's hand's off me all night, but I my efforts were lack lustre. As we slow danced to Bryan Adams Every thing I do, I do it for you; he kissed me gently on the lips and rubbed my back seductively, his hands slipping down to my bum.

We kissed hard and passionately.

Suddenly, the pub lights came on and we were all herded out of the door. The time came for me to go back to campus. I bought a kebab to soak up the alcohol and watched as Noah and Birthday Boy fuelled by drink, had an altercation in the street. Birthday Boy was arguing that he saw me first, so he was walking me back home. Noah was telling him that I wouldn't touch him with a shitty stick and I was way out of his league.

That was true.

What poor cow would have actually been in his league?

There is someone for everyone I suppose.

We saw each other nearly everyday for three years whilst we studied and I was sure I had fallen in love. After we graduated we moved to Mile End to the whorehouse aka dead man flat and worked to afford somewhere better. We have been doing that ever since. Working to be somewhere better. We got married in the Church of Christ in Bellfield and settled down to family life on The Hill with Maisy and our baby, Gracie. I had never looked at another man since I met Noah. He was my soul mate and I trusted him implicitly.

Chapter 19

The yoke from Maisy's boiled egg was dribbling slowly down the outside of the shell. She caught the flow with her spoon and poured it back into the egg.

'Maisy, are you eating that or just playing with it? I said impatiently.

She looked up at me nonchalantly and dropped the spoon on to the table with a clang.

'What's the matter?'

'I'm so bored.' She said, huffing.

I felt a rush of guilt. We were two weeks into the holidays and we hadn't really done anything fun because Noah and I had been working. Noah's mobile phone rang in the study, I heard him answer it, and then close the study door.

'Look, shall we go swimming on Sunday? That would be fun wouldn't it?'

Maisy's face brightened.

'Can we bake cakes today?'

'Maybe granny can bake with you. I've got to work this morning'

'Can I come?' Maisy said hopefully.

It would have been impossible to work with Maisy there and I had wanted to speak to Amber in private. The babies generally slept which enabled Amber and me to process the EBay orders quickly. Maisy would have had a more enjoyable time at home than lost in the sea of boxes at Number 13.

'No darling, not today'.

I cleared away the breakfast plates and gazed out of the window.

I heard the study door open and Noah walked into the kitchen holding his phone. He shut the door behind him.

'My dad's just called' He whispered.

Pauline was in the living room and he did not want her to hear him.

'Oh?'

'He asked if Maisy wanted to spend a day during the holidays with them at the funfair. They have bought the new ghost train.'

Maisy leapt from her seat and jumped around the room.

'Yes! I really want to go!'

I sighed and wished he had spoken to me first before getting Maisy's hopes up. I had never met Corina and I wasn't sure I was happy about Maisy hanging around a funfair.

Roger was not used to being around children. When we had visited in the past, he would say an obligatory hello and then slope off to his greenhouse. Pauline would then disappear before returning with a face like thunder. A grumpy Roger, his hands dirty with soil would trail in behind her and flop back into his chair. Then, he would sit without speaking, until it was time to say goodbye.

I pulled Noah to one side, but Maisy was loitering close by trying to here my verdict. He turned his back to Maisy.

'I'm sure she would be fine and we haven't really had chance to do anything with her since school broke up' Noah said.

He looked at me, his blue eyes sparkled.

'She was just saying how bored she was' He continued.

I looked Maisy's pretty face, her curly blonde hair tumbling around it. Little freckles dotted her nose and cheeks.

'He said the funfair was moving in two weeks and they would only be forty five minutes away. If there was a problem we could just go and pick her up'

I bit my lip and thought hard.

'But your dad doesn't know much about kids. What about when she needs the toilet?'

Noah rolled his eyes.

'She can go to the toilet by herself. Corina will be there, she's had eight kids'

'Really?' I said and gasped.

I struggled with two children. If I had had eight I would end up insane. A few chips short of a Happy Meal.

'I suppose if it was just for the day...' I resigned myself.

Maisy sensed a victory and began to leap around. Her red flowery dress twirled around and around.

I walked up to Amber's house pushing the buggy. Noah had gone to work and Maisy and Pauline were looking for a recipe for chocolate cake, in my flour soiled cookbook.

The milkman was across the road at number 16. He was collecting his money from a pretty woman with long brown hair. She was wearing a red kimono style dressing gown and heeled slippers. He must love collecting his bill there, I had thought to myself, and at least he isn't bothering me.

Amber took a few moments to open the door. I lifted the baby and left the buggy on the door step before squeezing past the stack of freshly delivered boxes in the hallway. She told me she had had a delivery of gnomes, which looked like Kate Middleton and Prince William. She plucked one of each from the packaging and held them up. Then, she made them kiss. I giggled and took one to inspect. Absolutely hideous. The faces didn't even look like those of Kate and William. Evidently, they were supposed to be in wedding attire, but Kate looked like she was wearing a nightie or was dressed as a ghost.

'Bloody awful, aren't they?' Amber said with a chuckle.

'Well, as long as they sell'

We went into the living room and before settling down to work I glanced out of the window. Across the road, the milkman was still talking to Miss Kimono and she was laughing and flicking her hair. I waved Amber over and we both stood spying through the window. I was worse than Carol, next door.

We watched as he walked back to his milk float and I thought the liaison had finished. However, he strolled back up the driveway with half a dozen eggs and a four pack of yoghurt.

'He is trying to get it on with her!' I was incredulous.

'She looks like she is lapping it up' Amber replied as we peeked through her window each holding the edge of the window sill.

The woman looked up and over at us. We squealed and ducked to the floor, out of view, both breathing hard. It reminded me of when we were kids, playing knock and run.

'Do you think she saw us?' I said in a whisper.

I wasn't sure why I whispered as Kimono Woman surely couldn't hear us.

'No, she's too far away' Amber said, also whispering.

We slowly rose from the floor and resumed our spying positions.

The milkman was waving goodbye and Kimono Woman lifted her arm, her gown slipping open a little. He turned and we saw his sleazy face branded with a toothy grin. He licked his lips.

'He is so disgusting' I guffawed.

'I don't know, I was thinking of digging out my red kimono. Might get me some free eggs!'

We moved away from the window and Amber handed me a list of today's tasks.

'We better get a move on' She remarked.

I lifted the box of Kate Middleton gnomes and got to work.

At lunch time, Amber made ham and salad rolls and brought them into the living room. We had decided to eat and work, as we had a hefty workload and lots of items to post off, by the end of the day. I sat on the floor in a sea of royal gnomes and ate my lunch. I had been waiting for the right moment to ask Amber if she had made up her mind about whether she would meet with Riley the following day. However, Amber raised the subject before I had had an opportunity to.

'I have been thinking about what you said at Caffeine Junkie. I will meet with Riley'

My stomach churned, I was so happy.

'I will also go to my mum's house and try and make amends. However, if she slams the door on me, that's it. I want that to be the end of it'

Amber's face was serious. I wanted to get up and swing her around merrily.

'She won't slam the door and I can come with you? We can go tomorrow, whilst we are in Roseville'

Amber looked unsure and rubbed her chin.

'Tomorrow?'

'Yeah, otherwise you will talk yourself out of it'

I licked a blob of margarine from my fingers.

She nodded her head.

Amber took our plates and went out to the kitchen. I remembered that I had brought my dirty knickers with me to be posted to their new depraved owner. They were in a parcel in my handbag and I wanted to add them to the work post. Amber would unwittingly take them to the post office that evening and they would drop on the doormat of the lucky perverted winner the next day.

Amber was busy in the kitchen, so I decided to slip my parcel onto the pile of other post. I put it on the top. Then, I thought she may look at it and think that that wasn't the last address she had written, therefore arousing suspicion. I had printed my address label at home, so it would not stand out from the other parcels, the way a handwritten address might have. Just to be on the safe side, I tucked it under the third parcel down in the stack, which was wide and large. It virtually covered my parcel from view. Amber reappeared holding Max, who had woken from his nap. He was red and sweaty. She put him put down on the play mat in the corner of the room and he sat looking dazed, his eyes just tiny slits. I sat next to him and held a soft blue teddy against his hand. He snatched his hand away and scowled at me. Amber sat down in the office chair and clicked off the computer. She took the parcel that she had finished packing and placed on the tall pile of post. It wobbled. I held my breath, praying it would not tumble over.

I sat back on the floor and counted how many items I had left on my list to wrap.

'So, would you like to know the whole story? The parts that Riley couldn't have told you.' Amber said.

'Yes, if you feel comfortable with it. I'm more than happy to listen'.

'Ok, but we will have to work and talk'

I smiled and Amber began to tell me about her turbulent youth.

Chapter 19

Amber began her story from the moment in time when she moved to London. She had dated Chris, who was a nightclub promoter. They had met when Amber had gone into London from Roseville, to a night club called 'Fifth Avenue' on a hen party. Chris was confident and popular, wealthy and socially connected. Amber, a stunning young woman, naïve and quickly impressed, was easy to lure from the safety of her family home. Sold a pocket full of dreams. She moved to London, ignoring her mum's pleas not to, and soon Amber's decision had alienated herself from her family. They did not like Chris, but she would not give him up. She was young, headstrong and was determined to make her own mistakes, which she did, in abundance.

During Amber's first week in London, Chris said he would arrange a modelling interview. He said she was gorgeous and could earn good money working as a model. His friend owned one of the nightclubs Chris promoted and also had investment in a modelling agency. He would pull some strings and get her seen by one of the agents. Amber was so excited at the prospect of becoming a model, that she spent a day on Oxford Street running up her credit card bill to pay for new clothes and shoes. She would look amazing at the interview and she would be given a contract for sure.

The interview never happened.

At first, Chris would think of excuses such as he hadn't seen his friend to ask him or they were not hiring models until the following season. Instead, Amber was dragged along to nightclub events to help promote the establishment, purely as arm candy for Chris. If she mentioned modelling, he would bark at her to shut up and told her she could fuck off back to Roseville if she was going to nag him like his mother. One night, Amber had gone with Chris to the grand opening of a nightclub called 'Fly Lounge'. Several celebrities and the press were attending and Chris was nervous and edgy. Amber had felt his mood build all day, the pressure to make the event a success was clearly getting to him.

The club filled quickly and Chris told Amber to mingle and hand out promotional flyers. This meant he was off to talk to important people and he didn't want her cramping his style or saying something stupid in front of them. Amber did not drink; repeated late nights meant that hangovers were not conducive to her being fit to work the following night. She knew she looked exhausted despite remaining teetotal. The circles under her eyes had darkened, her hair was dull and lifeless and her face, which once glowed with health, was sunken and gaunt. Life with Chris didn't help. He was sullen, moody and aggressive.

He would ignore her for days on end. Amber had learnt how to mingle in the clubs without drinking for courage. She had been left alone many times, often for the entire evening.

She spotted three, tall, slim girls wearing printed t-shirts stood at the bar. The text on their tops read, Betty's Model's. Amber decided to go and talk to them and the trio welcomed her into the group. They were all very drunk and after arguing back and forth about what Amber would like to drink; one of the girls refused to buy her an orange juice and filled her hand with a large white wine.

This was rapidly followed by four more. The girls moved onto the dance floor and inhibitions speedily diminished. Amber hadn't felt this happy in ages. She danced to her favourite songs and the girls hugged her enthusiastically between sets, nearly knocking her off her feet. Then, she felt a strong hard grip on her shoulder and she was pulled quickly away from the dance floor. The girls called after her, telling Chris to lighten up and come and dance.

Amber was led out through a back door and into the cold night air. Chris pushed her hard against the brick wall, her head cracked against the stone and she yelped in pain.

He asked her what the fuck she thought she was doing, showing him up like that, getting pissed and staggering around like a cheap slapper. She couldn't hold the tears back, her heavy black mascara leaked down her cheeks. Amber explained that the girls had told her about the modelling agency they worked for. The pay and conditions were excellent and they could put in a good word for her.

He laughed, and then struck her hard across the face.

You will never be a model, he told her.

You are just a bargain piece of council house scum I picked up when I was desperate. Easy and willing. A cheap tart. He told her she was losing her looks, she was less than fresh and had too much to say for herself.

He could do better.

Amber stood in the nightclub toilets looking at her reflection in the mirror. Fly Lounge's opening night had come to an end and all the cubicles were empty. She hadn't seen Chris for the rest of the night but she was too scared to just go home. A red mark on her cheek glowed, no blood, this time. Her eyes were smoky slits. The door to the toilets swung open and a middle aged lady walked in, she was wearing a smart black suit, expensive red shoes and was holding a tiny dog under one arm. Amber looked at her in the mirror before dropping her gaze. The woman put her dog down on the vanity unit in front of the mirror and opened her scarlet clutch bag. She retrieved and lipstick from inside and smeared it across her wrinkled lips.

The woman said 'Nasty bastard'.

Amber glanced at her in the mirror, and then quickly looked down. The woman continued, telling Amber that her boyfriend, Chris, was a noxious piece of shit. She had known him a long time and he hadn't changed. He had got worse in fact.

The woman asked Amber if she liked club promoting. Amber said no but she had no choice as she didn't have very good exam results and no work experience.

She had been turned down for six jobs already.

The next question took Amber by surprise. She was asked what she thought of escorting. Amber said she thought that was just a glamorous name for hookers. The woman snorted with laughter and informed her it was so much more than that. Top class luxury hotels, beautiful clothes, wined and dined, lavished with gifts, up to £6000 in your hand each week. Beautiful, young girls like you can make a fortune, she told Amber.

It would be all on your terms with no controlling, violent men.

'If anyone is getting hurt, it's usually the client, by request!' The woman said.

Amber listened but knew she could not sleep with men for money, no matter how fancy the surroundings or how high the fee. Yet, the thought of going home, to what would be a week of silence, likely another slap in the face and no money for food, made her want to throw up. The woman smiled broadly with oily red lips and told her to think about it and pressed her business card into Amber's hand.

'Get control' the woman said before she disappeared through the door, her tiny dog with her.

Amber had gone home that night and packed her bags. Chris had ignored her for half an hour before falling asleep on the sofa watching football highlights. She hurriedly gathered her things and hailed a taxi to Shepherd's Bush. Her friend, Saskia, from school was at university in London and she was living in a student house. They had stayed in regular contact through email since leaving school and they now spoke on Facebook. They had been best friends growing up.

In desperation, Amber had phoned Saskia and asked if she could come and stay for a few days. Saskia excitedly said yes and reeled off a long list of things they could do in London together. Amber had hoped to lay low for a week and basically sleep, sleep, sleep. After escaping the clutches of Chris, who had phoned her 37 times leaving threatening messages telling her to come back home, she ditched her mobile and bought a new one.

A fresh start. New contacts. A new life.

She picked out the small business card from her purse. The black italic words read - Ms Black, High Class Escort Service.

Amber had shrugged, grabbed her new phone and dialled the number.

At first, she thought she would never be able to do it. But her confidence grew. She loved her clothes, her new hair cut and the way her face glowed again. Escorting was glamorous and it really was like being Belle de Jour. The men who hired her services were usually old, fat or balding, but some were very handsome and charming and she thought of the latter, when she was faced with the former.

Most were from top professions and they needed to be to afford her tariff. Some of the men just wanted to talk or walk in the park and then have dinner. A girlfriend experience. They were lonely. Amber was lonely but at least she was in control. She said when, she said how much and no one raised their hand to her.

Then, she had met Stanley. He was lonely too. He had tanned skin, piercing eyes and he was gentle and sweet. Amber really looked forward to getting a booking with him which was about every other month. Stanley told her that he travelled with work. He wasn't married nor did he have any children.

He just didn't get the time, he had said.

Stanley was working in London for five months and started to book more frequent sessions with Amber. Amber noticed that more often than not, they wouldn't have sex, they would just chat. Stanley was interested to hear about Amber's life although she was not keen to tell. Then Amber and Stanley started to see each other outside the pre-booked hotel rooms. For Amber, this had to be covert as she was not allowed to form relationships with the clients.

It wasn't good for business.

Stanley lavished her with time and attention and appeared to genuinely care for her. Amber knew she had fallen in love with him. Then one night, after a meal out with together, they had checked into a hotel. Amber made love to Stanley and forgot to use contraception. He had remembered immediately after and asked her if she could go to the chemist to get the morning after pill.

She had lied, telling him she was on the pill.

She was devoid of her senses and overwhelmed by the love she felt for him. She figured that it was unlikely she would fall pregnant anyway but if she did she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

The bridge did come and Amber was forced to cross it. Brought to her senses by the reality of the situation, she understood that what she had done was incredibly stupid. Stanley would be angry as she had betrayed his trust. Then he would disappear in to thin air. She would never see him again and she would be left with no home, no job and a baby.

She would have to go on Jeremy Kyle to sort her life out.

However, Stanley had surprised her when she had finally plucked up the courage to tell him she was pregnant. He didn't shout, hit her or run off.

He proposed.

There and then. Minus a ring, but the proposal was genuine enough. She handed in her notice with the escort agency and they got married at Gretna Green. Stanley surprised Amber with a honeymoon in St Lucia. She had never been on a plane before and she had been sick with excitement. Later that month, Stanley bought the house on The Hill and shortly after they were blessed with a baby boy.

They named him Rufus, after Stanley's grandfather.

Amber shuffled in the office chair.

'And the rest is history' she said.

I had been listening so intently and sitting so still, my muscles ached.

'Oh my God, you're like the real life Pretty Woman!' I said with a squeal.

'I'm no Julia Roberts'

'You are better, you could make a film of your life'

'To be honest, most of it was horrible and I haven't ever told anyone about it. I used to text my friend Saskia to tell her what I was up to, but I kept the details scant. Riley found out from her, when she was back in Roseville for the holidays, so I would have been wiser not to tell anyone at all'

I sat, stunned, the events of Amber's life spinning in my head.

Amber stood up suddenly and went over to Max.

'Hey little man, what have you got there?'

Max was surrounded by chewed and crumpled brown parcel paper. The stack of post laid spread across the floor. The parcels which had been on top of the tower of post had fallen down. Amber and I had been so engrossed in our conversation that we hadn't noticed.

Amber pulled paper from between Max's clenched teeth and strips of tape from his chubby pink hands.

I panicked as I noticed the address label I had printed, torn from the parcel. Before I could jump up and retrieve my secret post Amber turned around holding my black lacy knickers, a tiny corner pinched between her forefinger and thumb. A confused expression was written across her face.

'What are these?' She said.

I wasn't sure if she had actually worked out that they were mine.

'Erm,'

'They were on Max's play mat. It looks like they came out of...out of this package' She held it aloft and read the return label.

My address was written in bold, black ink.

Amber looked at me, her brow furrowed.

'Are these yours?' She said, seemingly not quite believing that could be true.

'Well, no...kind of... yes...I sold them...on Ebay' I flushed red.

Buggery bollocks.

Honesty was the best policy. Wasn;t it?

Amber burst out laughing and tried to speak but couldn't get her words out. Eventually she took a deep breath and spoke.

'They are washed? Aren't they?'

I shook my head and Amber yelped and threw them at me.

I tucked the pair of lacy pants into my handbag, my cheeks scarlet with shame. Amber continued to giggle.

'How much?'

'What?' I asked

'How much did you get for them?'

'Not much'

'How much?'

'99p' I admitted with embarrassment.

She burst out laughing again. I stood looking at her, dumbstruck.

'I couldn't work out how you got so much for yours and I got so little for mine'

I couldn't help sounding annoyed.

Amber stopped giggling and looked at me. I could see she was thinking.

'I think I know. Did you sell anything with the knickers?'

'No' I said, unsure of her meaning. She dashed from the room and I heard her bound up the stairs. A few minutes later she reappeared in the room. She was holding something.

'I think the reason I got £30 for mine, and you got 99p for yours, is that I offered this with mine.'

She held up a photograph.

In it, she was naked accept for a pair of frilly black knickers. Her face was seductively hidden from view with a scarf of black silk.

No wonder she was shifting them by the truckload!

'Every buyer got a photo of me wearing the knickers they had bought'

'That makes more sense now!' I said.

We both started laughing, and did so, until our sides ached.

Chapter 20

The drive to baby group in Roseville seemed to take forever and for the entire journey, Amber remained silent, anxiously ringing her hands. I flicked through the radio stations, desperate for some noise.

There was palpable tension in the air.

I settled on a phone-in programme discussing prank calls and wind ups. A man from Aberdeen was telling the DJ that he had phoned his Granddad and told him he was live on the radio. The Grandad was told he had to answer five questions correctly, to win a car. However, they were questions which his Grandson had made virtually impossible to answer.

One question read; at the cinema, which armrest is yours?

Another asked, can you cry underwater?

The Grandad had fallen for the prank, hook, line and sinker.

He had been nearly beside himself with frustration, that he couldn't answer a single question.

'What a bastard' Amber said as she watched the boarded shops go by.

'Yeah, I'll turn it off'

We arrived at the baby group and unloaded our children from the car. Amber was pacing to and fro, clutching Max to her chest, like he was her armour. I held the baby on my hip and waited for Amber to say she was ready to go in.

Without warning she turned on her heel and strode boldly towards the door to the hall. This took me by surprise and I had to jog to keep up.

A woman, who I presumed was Justyna because she looked just like her sister Bernardetta, welcomed us. I think she sensed a change in Amber's usually buoyant mood and she watched her closely, as they chatted.

I scanned the room. The hall was lively with playing children. I couldn't see Riley.

'Shall we sit down?' I said.

'I think I want to go home' Amber said plainly.

She spun around and started to move towards the exit.

I caught her arm and she stopped.

'Come on, you have got here, that's a major step.'

'I've been here before' she said.

'Yes, but you weren't on the cusp of changing everything. Making it better with your family.'

She gave me a look, which I read as her wishing she had never agreed to do this. Nonetheless, she abandoned her escape plan and followed me to two spare chairs.

We did the usual things, played with the babies and I went and got cups of tea for us both. I knew we were both watching the door. Each of us leaned forward, in anticipation, when it opened. The first time, it was a woman with twins trying to ease her enormous pushchair through the doors. Justyna was eagerly helping, but in essence, getting in the way.

Next came Donna, she was dressed in a long deep purple robe and a navy headscarf. Her shoes of choice, were high, patent, yellow espadrilles that hindered her movement so much, it looked like she was wading through mud. She waved to Amber, who smiled weakly.

The door opened for a third time.

In walked Riley.

He spoke briefly to Justyna, but he had already clocked us. It was a delaying tactic. Riley's body language gave away his nerves. His hands interlocked and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. As he tried to walk casually towards us, amidst the chaos of toys and noisy infants, it felt like his journey took forever. Then, he was stood there in front of us and he sunk his hands deep into his pockets.

'Hey Amber' He said.

'Hi Riley' she answered.

It was so tense I wanted to scream.

I pointed to the vacant seat beside Amber and he sat down.

'Look, I know you hate me for what I did' He began.

Great, straight into it, I thought. I had imagined we could have sat there all day if no-one had offered an opening line.

Else, I would have had to speak and I really didn't want to do that. I was the fixer, but I had facilitated this meeting and I was hoping that would be enough for now.

'I do hate you. Well, I did hate you. But it was too exhausting to keep it up, you weren't worth it.'

Riley lowered his head.

'I want to apologise. I was an idiot. If I had known that in telling your brother what I knew about you, it would have come to this, believe me, I would never have done it. I was drunk and stupid. And I'm so sorry'

He sounded genuine but Amber didn't speak.

The pause grew longer and more critical, like when waiting for Dermot O'Leary to announce who has won X Factor.

'Ok' Amber finally said almost inaudibly.

I breathed out loudly and they both looked at me.

'Sorry' I mouthed.

Riley tried to take her hand, but she wasn't ready. She pulled it away from him and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

'I think if you went to see your mum. She might be more reasonable than she was years ago. Time has past, she has had opportunity to calm down. Your brother's want to see you' Riley said.

'How are we going to do it then?' Amber said hesitantly.

Riley told her that we could all go together but Amber shook her head.

'I don't want her to see Max. I could just about handle her rejecting me, but if she rejected him...' Her voice wobbled.

'I will wait with the babies and you can go with Riley'

Amber shook her head.

'I want you with me'

'Then I will look after the kids' Riley said.

As pleasant as Riley seemed, I wasn't ready to let a virtual stranger baby sit my child. Amber obviously felt the same and she knew him.

'No, what we will do is take them up to the flat, but leave the prams along the landing. We will be able to see them, but you won't be able to from mum's door'

We all nodded.

'But what if she invites you in?'

'Then...Then...I will cross that bridge when I come to it'

I thought about Amber's unplanned pregnancy and how she had used that idiom before. Things had worked out then. I truly hoped she would have the same success this time.

The lift up to Amber's mum's flat was tiny and smelly. We had walked across the road from the baby group, to a tower block that I guessed was eight storeys high. I had no idea that Amber's mother lived so close to where Amber frequented nearly every week.

It was a miracle that they had not crossed paths.

We endeavoured to all squeeze into the lift with the two buggies. We needed to go to the seventh floor. I had breathed in, striving to make room for Riley, but the space this created was negligible.

He took the stairs and we met him on Floor 7. The view from the landing was awesome, mainly of other flats and the depressed town of Roseville, but all the same, it was captivating.

We huddled at one end of the landing like American football players planning our next assault on the opposing team.

'Ok, right. I'm just going to go and knock on the door.' Amber said.

'Ok' Riley and I said together.

'No wait. Why don't you go and then you can give me the thumbs up if she wants to see me'

'Alright' Riley said nodding.

'No, it would look better if I went. Maybe if you came with me?'

Amber looked at me, she pleaded with her eyes.

'That's fine. I'll take the lead' I said and started to walk towards the door of Flat 46a.

I took three steps before Amber grabbed the hood of my jacket and I was pulled backwards and nearly throttled.

'Sorry, sorry. I need to do this myself' Amber said, patting my arm.

I rubbed my neck where my coat zip had dug into the skin.

Amber stood taking deep breaths, her hand tugging at her hair.

'Right, I'm doing it. Stay here, both of you. And mind the babies' she said.

Amber marched off down the landing and pounded on the door of her mother's flat.

From where we were positioned we could see that the door had opened, but we could not see who she was talking to. Neither could we hear what was said, as the flat nearest to us, had wartime style music playing loudly in the front room.

Not knowing what was going on was frustrating.

We had to watch Amber's body language for indications of how well the mission was going.

So far she was talking to someone and she had smiled.

Then she leaned forwards, half her body disappeared inside.

Was she hugging someone?

So far, so good.

My heart pounded in my chest. Riley was beside me, tall and muscular but clearly sharing my feelings of anxiety. His ear was turned towards Amber, in a bid to catch some of the words she said.

'Looks hopeful so far' Riley said in a whisper.

'Yeah, I think that was a hug' I said and smiled.

The window of the room with music playing squeaked open. The wrinkled and unshaven face of an old man appeared.

'Oi! What are you two up to' He said angrily.

Riley and I both spun around and looked at him.

'Sshhhh!' we both said together, our forefingers over our lips. We looked at the man as he held back his net curtain.

'Bloody people, loitering around with nothing better to do. Should send them off to war, that will give them something to do. Piss their pants most likely if they came face to face with the enemy, a gun in their face' the man mumbled before slamming the window shut.

We were startled by loud shouting and we saw Amber's entire demeanour change. I tried to run towards her but Riley held my arm so I couldn't. I struggled to wriggle free.

'Just wait a minute' he said.

We both watched and then heard the unmistakable sound of a door slamming closed.

Amber turned to us, tears streaming down her face. She ran the short distance to where we stood and collapsed onto my shoulder.

'It's alright, it's alright. God, what happened?' I said, wrapping my arms around her.

Amber was crying too hard to answer. Her sobbing made Max cry, and then my baby started to howl.

The old man appeared at the window again.

'I'm not sure what is going on out there, but if you would kindly hold this 'Crying Club' meeting somewhere else, I would be most grateful' He said curtly before slamming the window for a second time.

'Come on, let's go home' I said. I felt deflated and guilty that I had encouraged Amber to do this.

Shitty idea.

I pressed the button to call the lift.

Chapter 21

I was restless. The business with Amber, earlier that day, was playing on my mind. I had gone into autopilot mode, bathing the girls, reading a story and settling them into bed.

I stood in the darkened living room by myself.

The night had drawn in, but I hadn't noticed, so the lamps remained switched off. I couldn't think where to go from here. It had been galling to see Amber's hopes raised and then dashed. I had been party to that. I had pushed her, when she didn't want to go. She told us, as we walked back to the car, that her younger brother had answered the door. He had been so pleased to see her that he had started to cry.

He never cries, she told us.

He had hugged her and nestled his face into her shoulder.

Then, wondering who her son was talking to at the door, Amber's mother had appeared.

'Get away from my house!' She had yelled.

Amber had tried to talk but she was shouted down.

'I told you never to darken my doorstep again! I meant it then and I mean it now!'

Amber's mum had then pulled her son inside the flat and slammed the door in Amber's teary face.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I turned on the lamps and picked up my phone. Noah was up in Birmingham and would be back in his hotel room by now. I wanted to speak to him.

It had been a stressful day.

I was so tired, I felt uneasy and hollow. I found his name on my phone and pressed the key to call. I listened, but the phone rang and rang before going to answering machine. I tried again. Noah would have been back at the hotel by now. It was late. This time his phone was answered.

'Hello, Noah's phone' a female voice said. A high pitched, girly voice.

'Erm...hello...who's that?' I said.

Who the fuck was that in my husband's hotel room?

'Hey u! Just got in. Noah's in the shower. Shall I get him to ring you back?'

Who is that?

My tired mind tried desperately to accomplish voice recognition.

'Hello? It's Amanda. Shall I get him to ring you back?'

I was stunned and speechless.

'Erm...yes' I managed before hurriedly switching off the phone.

My worse nightmare was coming true.

My husband was having it away with his secretary.

How cliché a tale was that? Manager shags his secretary. Superbly original.

I wouldn't go to Birmingham, so he took her.

I imagined my whole life falling apart. We would have to sell our house on The Hill and I would inevitably become a drunk-in -the morning mum, forced to live in social housing. Maisy would smoke pot and get arrested for a catalogue of crimes linked to bad parenting. Then she would have babies and be a bad parent, the pattern repeating. My legacy would be a family line of delinquents and pariahs.

As my thoughts, grew more wild and fantastical, the phone started to ring.

I didn't know whether to answer.

I certainly didn't want to talk to Amanda again.

The poisonous, half-clothed, husband stealer.

As I was thinking it, I couldn't quite believe it. Would Noah really do this to me?

I snatched the phone up before it rang off.

'Yes' I said crossly.

'Hi babe, how was your day? How's the girls?' Noah said on the end of the line.

I couldn't answer. How could he be so casual about it?

'Babe?...' He said.

'Fine, all fine. Who was that?' I said still speaking in a stern tone.

'Who was who?'

'Don't play games with me Noah. Amanda answered your bloody phone just now'

There was a pause.

A guilty pause?

'I know she did, I was in the shower'

He was not even trying to cover up the truth. How could he insult my intelligence so blatantly?

'What's wrong? You sound all annoyed'

I wanted to slap him. I wanted to slap his face.

'Why is she in your hotel room?'

'Well, she was just...nothing...She was helping me with something'

I clicked the phone off and threw it onto the sofa.

Bastard.

A moment later the phone rang again. Curious to see what further lies he had to tell, I retrieved the phone from the sofa and answered.

'What?' I said in a bark.

'Why did you hang up on me? What the hell's wrong with you?'

'Wrong with me?! Wrong with me?!'

I clicked the phone off again and lay it on the coffee table. I needed a drink.

I paced through to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine. I heard my phone beep. I had a text message. I wandered back to the living room and read the message.

Please call me. I love you x

I huffed and slumped into the chair. I used the remote control to turn on the television. Graham Norton was tipping people backwards out of a red chair.

The phone rang again. I pushed my tired body out of the chair and answered it for a third time.

'Hey, don't hang up, please.' Noah's voice begged.

'Are you sleeping with her? Are you sleeping with Amanda in Birmingham?'

'No, of course not!'

I really wanted to believe him.

'Why did she answer your phone? And please don't say, because you were in the shower'

'Ok, she was in my room, dropping off my laptop and the projector. I was in the...I was not able to answer. So she did.'

'Why is she there?'

'She was the only one I could persuade to come. I had to bribe her by telling her she could make it into a dirty weekend. It has cost me a small fortune'

I was confused. Had he now just admitted that he was indeed sleeping with her?

'What?' I said.

'Dirty weekend, you won't believe where I ended up tonight. A real eye opener. I've got a funny thing to tell you'

I was numb. I had no idea what was going on.

'Please, can we go back to my question about Amanda being there? Then, the dirty weekend thing?'

'Amanda would only come and help me with the presentation if I paid for a room for her. Well, her... and Greta the gargoyle'

'Greta?' I said and rubbed my forehead.

This conversation was so confusing.

It was like a Two Ronnies sketch.

I slurped more wine.

'Why are Greta and Amanda sharing a room? Greta doesn't even work for you'

'I know. They wanted a dirty weekend. Amanda and Greta. You know they are... an item don't you?'

'No!' I said loudly into the phone.

A Nigara fall sized rush of relief crashed over me.

I had no idea.

'How can they be? Amanda was the school bike. She even shagged the P.E teacher.'

'How do you know that?'

'Just heard it somewhere' I said.

It was probably just idle gossip but when I had heard it, in my drunken state. I had taken it to be true.

'Well, I don't know about that but I can 100% guarantee that they bat for the away team. Total todger dodgers. I told you about it. You never listen to me' Noah said and sounded hurt.

'Yes, I do! I wouldn't forget that' I said.

'Anyway, I am sure that after seeing what I saw in their room tonight, I will be sleeping with my pillow over my head and the door locked tonight' Noah said.

My mind was torn from serious concern that my husband was a philanderer, to a curious musing as to what he had seen in Amanda and Greta's room.

'Why? What did you see in their room?'

'Erm..Lesbian pants' He said.

'What? What are... lesbian pants?' I said.

'I saw them on their bed. They are pants with a... you know...a cock on the inside and also one on the outside'

I tried to imagine.

'So one thing goes in...your.... And the other goes...'

'Up Amanda!' He said and laughed.

I started to laugh.

The image in my head was disturbing and a bit of sick came to my throat.

I found my tense shoulders began to relax and I started to feel a warm glow from the wine.

'I can't believe they are a couple. Amanda is so, well...Little Miss No-Bra and Greta is just ghastly. How did that ever come about?'

'It's been going on a while. Only a few people at the office know. They had been quite covert about their lady love. But because they know,that I know, I have had to put up with an outrageous night in a gay bar and the misfortune to get an eyeful of the terrifying lesbian, monster dick pants.'

I smiled. All was well.

Thank God he wasn't cheating. I hadn't the energy to deal with that.

I heard the front door close and for a moment I wondered who it was. Then I heard a cough and I noticed that it was Pauline and she had only just got in.

'You're mum's just come in' I said into the phone to Noah.

'Has she? Where has she been?'

'I don't know'

'Well, I will let you go and investigate. I now have to try and get some sleep with the horrible image of Greta, wearing the double dong pants and chasing Amanda around the room. Oh, and now I can actually hear sound effects through the wall'

We said goodnight.

I wished I had just gone with him.

My day had been a disaster.

I found Pauline in the kitchen, filling a glass of water. She was dressed in a floral wrap dress, her hair was curled and she was wearing make up. She had never worn make up in the whole time I had known her.

'Hi, you're back late. What have you been up to?' I said without trying to sound like her mother.

'Oh, hello dear. I've been out with Jim.'

'Jim?'

Who the heck was Jim? Pauline took out her earrings.

'He is the accordion player, with the Scottish country dancers. He also goes to the church. The one Carol goes to'

Had she been out on a date?

She must have only met this Jim character a couple of days ago. She was weeping about Roger one minute and off dancing The Flying Scotsman with Jim the accordion player, the next. I wasn't sure if this did actually make her less boring.

'Oh, that's nice. Where did you go?' I said.

'I went to his home, dear, he made a lovely dinner. Salmon en croute.'

He had cooked for her. This Jim was wooing my mother-in-law.

'He has a very interesting job' Pauline said.

Ring master? Astronaut? Cowboy?

'He prints t'shirts'

I was under whelmed. I was expecting at least a professional wrestler.

'Look, here's one he gave me for Maisy'

Pauline rummaged in her bag and revealed a small hot pink t shirt with Nike and the infamous swoosh logo underneath.

I looked it and shook my head.

Pauline's new man, Jim, was a producer of counterfeit goods. The t shirt he had given to Pauline could have got her into trouble with the police.

'It's illegal to make fake t shirts, Pauline'

I took the the t'shirt and examined it. It was a shocking colour.

'I know, but what's the harm? No-one could tell... they are very good copies, don't you think?'

Admittedly they were and the print was perfect. Even the labels inside looked genuine.

'He sells football ones too. He said he could make an Arsenal one for Noah. What do you think?'

I thought her grasp on reality was slipping.

I thought my grasp on reality was slipping.

'Jim said he would take me up to Wembley on match days and we could sell them together' Pauline said.

I wasn't sure what was going on. I was sure there must be something in the bible that said: Thy shalt not steal thou copyrighted logo.

Her quest to be less boring had taken an intriguing detour. Pauline must have supposed that to be less dull, one must become more criminal.

'So, Jim? What's he like?' I said feeling that anymore involvement with the knock off t-shirts might render me an accessory to the crime.

'He is a lovely man, very polite and attentive. I have only known him a short while'

Three days, I wanted to blurt out.

'I am spending the day with him tomorrow, so I won't be in the house, getting under your feet' she chuckled.

Pauline didn't so much get under my feet, more under my skin.

'That's...well, great' I said.

'I am moving on, see, dear?' Pauline rubbed my shoulder.

'Yes. Well done you' I said

I was not convinced that Pauline was moving on, but her new found happiness did mean, that she might soon be moving out.

Hoo-bloody-ray.

Chapter 22

I had text Roger to say that Pauline was out for the day and that it was safe for him and Corina to come to the house to collect Maisy. Pauline had been out nearly everyday of the last three weeks with Jim. It had put Carol from next door's nose rather out of joint, as Pauline was no longer available for Earl Gray and biscuits each morning. Instead, Carol would linger in her front garden, pretending to be pulling up weeds before she collared me on my way out.

'Is Pauline not in today? I've made brownies' she would say.

'No, I don't think so Carol. She is out with Jim'

This exchange was repeated almost every day.

Roger's car pulled onto the driveway and he got out. Maisy was stood excitedly at the front door. She opened it and looked up at her Grandad. Roger was wearing dark blue tailored jeans and a grey designer shirt. His hair looked different, his receding hairline had gone.

Had he had hair plugs? Had everything I'd come to know and despair of changed.

'Grandad?' Maisy said awkwardly.

She had not seen him for a long time. When she had spent time with him, he had beaten her at games of chequers or bored her with relentless tales about marrow growing.

Things had changed.

He picked her up and kissed her cheek. He then blew a raspberry on it.

'Ready for the fair? Corina has gone to get juice and bread for sandwiches' Roger said.

'Yeah!' Maisy said excitedly.

'Oh, Corina... she isn't with you?' I said, disappointed.

After hearing Noah's description, I really wanted to check her out for myself.

Roger shook his head and settled Maisy back onto her feet.

'So, here is Maisy's bag. She had snacks in there. Oh, and here's her coat. You will phone me if there is any kind of problem?' I said.

'Of course. You won't believe your eyes when you see the new ghost train, Maisy. Not scared of ghosts are you?' He said and tickled her.

'No! There's no such thing!' She giggled and threw up her arms.

Roger took the bag and coat and held Maisy's hand. I wanted to feel comfortable with her going with him. I should have wanted Maisy to spend time with her Grandad.

But this was Roger, and he seemed to have undergone some sort of radical personality change.

I didn't know either him anymore.

It was quite unsettling.

I felt Noah's hands wrap around my waist. He had been out in the summer house trying to run electricity into the large wooden structure, so we would have lights in there. Maybe a television and a fridge too. We had been thrilled when we viewed the house and saw the summer house standing, virtually brand new in the garden. The previous owners told us that they had only just bought and erected it, but then her boyfriend's new job dictated that they should sell up and move.

It had taken such a long time to assemble.

They couldn't be bothered with the arduous task of taking it down. Besides, it would have required its own moving lorry to be transported.

'Hi Dad' Noah said merrily

'Hi son, how's life with you?'

'Good cheers, just playing electrician in the summerhouse. But, look'

Noah held out his bruised thumb.

'Hammer?' Roger said.

Noah bobbed his head, like a nodding dog and sucked his thumb

We kissed Maisy and waved at her in the back seat of the car as it reversed down the drive. We could see Roger talking animatedly to her from the front seat, but he hadn't noticed that Maisy had put on her CD player and was wearing headphones. Rather than Roger's jolly ice-breaking chat, she was jiggling to the girly sound of Katy Perry.

'Wanna help me in the summer house, you can hold my toolbox?' Noah whispered into my ear.

I laughed theatrically.

'I would, but I need to do some something'

'Oh, alright. I will have to hold my own tool box' he pretended to be sullen.

'She will be alright won't she? What if she gets's carted off by carnival folk and forced to work in circuses across Europe?'

'She's not Dumbo' he smirked.

'She is starting school in a couple of weeks... she needs to learn to be independent. Besides, she will have a great time' Noah said and stroked my back.

He pushed the hair back from my face and kissed my lips lightly. He lingered for a moment before he turned around.

'Right, back to work!' He instructed himself and marched out into the garden.

Now, that I had a moment's peace, there was something I wanted to do.

I cleared a space on the table in the study and rummaged in the drawer for some letter writing paper. I was sure Pauline had bought me some, with cats or squirrels on.

That was the first time the necessity for writing paper had arisen since I was 5 years old. Back then, I had required two pieces.

One to write to Santa, to tell him I wanted a Magna Doodle.

Then another posted a day later, to tell him that if it wasn't too late, and the elves hadn't already made a Magna Doodle, could I please have a slinky instead.

It turned out that I got neither and I was obliged to sit for a Christmas photo reluctantly holding a Weeble. True to its claim, it did not fall down but it did smash a pane of glass in my auntie's front room window, when I hurled it in temper on Christmas day.

Needless to say, she did not offer me second's of trifle at dinner.

I found a sheet of paper with an otter on it and sat and chewed the top of my biro, not sure how to begin.

I wanted to write to Amber's mum.

I had felt sure that once she had calmed down and had time to reflect, she might change her mind about seeing her daughter. Amber disagreed and we hadn't discussed the issue, since driving home from Roseville, on that fateful Friday. I didn't even know Amber's mum's name, neither first nor last. I couldn't have started, Dear Madam or To whom it may concern. That would have been quite peculiar under the circumstances. To text Amber and ask what her mother's name is would have also been odd and would have aroused her suspicion.

I decided to just start with Hi.

I wanted to keep it brief and to the point. The letter detailed how it was my fault that Amber had come to visit her that Friday and that I had pushed her into doing it. However, Amber did genuinely want to make amends.

I alluded to the fact that Amber's life had changed dramatically, but I didn't mention Max and Rufus, that was Amber's news to tell, when she was ready. I wrote my name, address and phone number at the bottom of the page and indicated that if she ever wanted to get in touch, she could, at any time.

I folded up the paper and pushed it into an envelope that had a picture of an Ox on it.

Where did Pauline buy this stuff?

I walked through to the kitchen and found one stamp left in the book on the work top. I stuck it to it. I leaned out of the French doors.

'Are you alright with the baby? I've just got to nip out for a minute' I shouted.

'Yup!' Noah said back over the din of his radio and drill. I left the house and strolled down the drive.

'Hello!' A voice called.

I looked and Carol was stood in her front garden holding an apple pie.

'Is Pauline home yet? I've baked a delicious apple pie. A Delia recipe'

How long has she been there?

Carol was stood poised on her grass with pie, like a bizarre lawn ornament. Plotting, like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, to coax my mother-in-law away from her new beau with baked goods. Moreover, waiting for one of us to leave the house, so she could discover the whereabouts of her prey.

Creepy.

'She's with Jim, Carol'I said. Again.

Pauline was seeing Jim nearly everyday, except when he went into London to sell t shirts. Pauline had been helping Jim to flog the fake merchandise. However she had been banned by Jim, after she had caused a scene, telling a group of boy's buying the tops to pull their trousers up.

Pauline's ruckus caught the attention of a policeman, further up the street and they had had to scarper, before the pair of them got arrested.

Carol looked dejected. Pauline wasn't home so she slunk back inside with her unwanted pastry creation.

I would have taken it off her hands, but I hadn't been asked and I feared it might have rohypnol in it. Besides, had she offered the pie and I had accepted it, I would have felt obliged to join her for Darjeeling and a discussion about whether crinoline was back in fashion or if young people nowadays, knew they were born.

I didn't have time to discuss whether sage was the new beige.

I needed to post my letter.

That afternoon, Pauline had briefly returned to the house. She looked a bit agitated as she tried to twist the lid of a bottle of gin.

I had never known her to drink, especially not in the day time. I wondered if there was trouble in paradise, with Jim.

'Can I help you with it?' I said nodding to the bottle.

She huffed with frustration and handed me the gin.

'I'm only having one'

'You can have as much as you want Pauline, there's tonic in the fridge'

She collected the tonic and poured it into a tall glass, then added a large measure of the spirit. She supped it once, twice and then a third time.

'Had a bad day?' I said hesitantly.

The prying cow in me really hoped she told me.

'It could have been better. Jim and I...well, we had a little disagreement. It got quite heated and in anger, I threw a freshly made custard tart at him. Such a waste'

I giggled, it was literally impossible not to.

Didn't only clowns throw custard tarts?

I had never seen Pauline angry, she was dismissive, disapproving, deprecating and other words beginning with 'd' but never angry.

And throwing food? That was almost inconceivable.

'Yes, I had made it for him as a birthday treat, he is 69 today.'

If that was her idea of a treat, no wonder Roger had run off to an exciting life filled with fortune tellers, ghost trains and holidays in New Zealand. In my opinion, Roger's new life was marred only by his propensity to continue growing marrows and by his lover's ridiculously poor dental hygiene.

Pauline was once again twisting the lid off the gin bottle and made herself a second drink. She had downed the first with impressive speed.

Go Pauline.

'He was being quite an ass. We were running a stall at the summer fete together and he said he was nipping off to get a cup of tea. When he was gone for nearly an hour, I began to worry about him.' Pauline polished off the second glass of Gin and Tonic.

I felt like I should have stopped her having any more, but she was mid-story and I wanted to hear the end.

'I asked the Vicar to mind our cake stand and went off to search for him. I found him out in the car park, sat in his car with Brenda. You know. The one who runs the baby group here in the town?'

'Enormous glasses and enormous eyes? Hair that looks like a crash helmet?' I said.

Pauline looked blank.

'Doesn't matter, carry on'

'Well, they weren't kissing, but the were in an embrace that suggested something fishy was going on. Anyway, he looked up and saw me. I dashed back to the cake stall to relieve the vicar'

I stifled a laugh.

'Jim appeared and started yelling at me. Telling me that I was spying on him. The cheek of it! He insisted he was doing nothing wrong and that he was comforting Brenda because her mother had just passed. He called me a jealous old harpy, so I threw the custard tart at him'

Pauline was clearly upset and now quite pissed.

'It caused quite a stir at the summer fete, a little boy thought the cake throwing was one of the stall games. He gave me twenty pence and threw a cherry bake well at him too'

I watched as the tonic splashed down onto more Gin.

My husband appeared from the garden, carrying a handful of electrical wire, sweat beading on his forehead.

'Hi mum, what's going on?' Noah said.

He saw the Gin and his face blackened.

'What the hell is going on?!' He shouted so loud I Pauline and I both jumped.

I had been shocked to see her drinking, but Noah's reaction seemed rather dramatic.

He snatched the bottle of Gin away; its remnant's swilling in the bottle.

'You shouldn't be drinking' He said firmly.

Pauline lowered her head like a teenager who had been caught stealing alcohol from their parent's drinks cabinet. I had done this as a young teenager and I remembered going to Tracey Hollingsworth's 16th birthday party, with half a bottle of Harvey's Bristol Cream and half a bottle of Advocaat.

I had been extremely sick that night.

'I think I might go and have a lie down' She said in a mumble and walked away.

Noah held her shoulder to stop her and took the full bubbling glass out of her hand and poured it down the sink.

Once Pauline had gone upstairs, Noah ushered me into the garden and we sat at the table.

'What's with the no drinking thing then, is she on medication or something?' I said.

Noah scratched his head, he only ever did this when he was nervous, or Maisy had brought home nits.

'Not exactly'

'Come on, tell me' I wanted to know.

'She shouldn't drink because she was once an alcoholic. She's a recovering alcoholic'

I gasped.

But she was too boring to be an alcoholic.

If she had been an alcoholic, that would have been the single most interesting thing about her.

'A long time ago, before I was born. Trying for a baby and not getting anywhere for years drove her to it. She was going to AA meetings when she fell pregnant with me' Noah said.

'Jesus, how come you never told me. You never tell me anything. You didn't tell me about the lesbian's and now this...'

'It was private and she asked me not to tell anyone.Ever. She was ashamed and she recovered the moment the blue lines on the pregnancy test appeared. She has been sober every since'

'Very sober' I chipped in.

It had been quite a summer for secret pasts; I wondered what else would reveal itself.

I sat looking out at the garden; one magpie was sat on the bird table.

'I am sure she will be fine, she just had a fight with Jim that's all. She threw a custard tart at him'

Noah looked at me and laughed. He thought I was joking.

'We just need to keep an eye on her. I'm not sure she is over this thing with my dad. She is such a closed book; it's difficult to know what's going on in her head.'

I nodded. Noah shrugged his shoulders and said he just had a small job to do in the summerhouse.

I got up and watered the flowers before I went back indoors. There was a note on the kitchen table.

Jim called. He is sorry. Going out for dinner. Pauline

I went to the bottom of the stairs and called her name, just to see if she had already left. My voice echoed up the stairwell, but no reply came. I turned and headed back to the kitchen, but as I did, the doorbell chimed. I sighed and went to the door and opened it.

It was Corina. Maisy was stood by her side, holding her hand.

'He's dead' she said plainly.

'Who's dead?' I said.

'Roger'

The single magpie on the bird table, flashed up in my mind.

One for sorrow.

Chapter 23

I cuddled Maisy into me. She was warm, soft and her hair smelled of apples.

Noah sat in the armchair, his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands.

Corina stood looking at the photographs on the mantle piece. A heavy, dark mood hung in the air. I felt like it was choking me and I pulled at the neck of my top as if to free my breath.

'What happened?' Noah said breaking the silence.

Corina turned around, her face ashen. Her eyes were red, she must have been crying as she drove to the house.

'He was on the ghost train. I wish I'd never bought the bleeding thing!' Corina sobbed.

I lifted Maisy off my lap and settled her down next to me. I got up and found a box of tissues on the window sill.

'Maisy and I were watching. He wanted to test it first to make sure it wasn't too scary for her. He went around once and came out holding his chest. We thought he was pretending to be terrified by the ghosts. So we just waved, before he went back around again.' Corina blew her nose loudly.

'This time when he came out he was slumped in the train carriage, but I could see he was smiling. I swear he was smiling. Playing dead. Maisy shouted that he was a silly man and we laughed. So, he went around again'

Corina took a handful of tissues and rubbed her eyes smearing her black eye make up. She was wearing a red, halter neck dress that would have better suited a woman half her age. She had a plump figure and a round face that quivered as she wept.

Noah looked up. His expression was dark and burdened.

The scene felt surreal. Everything had changed.

Characters shifted and altered or left altogether. It was unsettling. This hill was cursed, since we moved here, life had become chaotic and now tragic.

'It was only when he came out of the ghost train for a third time that I realised what had happened. I rushed to switch the ride off, but I couldn't find the button, you know, because it's a new attraction and I was in a state... So he went around for a fourth time.'

I sat down next to Noah and put my arm around him and squeezed. If it wasn't so heartbreaking, it would have be funny.

Maisy.

I thought about how having seen her Granddad die would affect her?

The first time we had let her go off alone and this happens. She was never leaving my sight again.

Not until she is in her forties, at least.

Pauline.

Oh God.

We would have to tell her. She would be crushed.

Despite her gallivanting with Jim, Noah and I both suspected she was still in love with Roger and the wound he had torn when he ran off with Corina, was still raw.

I would definitely have to hide the Gin now.

'I can't believe it, I just can't believe it. I phoned the ambulance, but there was nothing they could do' Corina broke down.

We sat together in the living room for half an hour until we all needed to get out and breathe.

The sorrow in the atmosphere was toxic.

Corina said she was going to head back to the fairground site. The fair workers had helped her to move the body to the caravan. The GP had been to confirm the death, but she needed to arrange for a funeral director to come and take Roger to the undertakers.

Corina collected her coat from the back of the chair and pushed her arms into it.

'We will need to arrange a funeral. I wonder what requests he had made' Corina sniffed, her eyes wet with tears.

'Pauline would...well, she would probably have the will' I said.

Corina looked at us both, she was pensive. I was still shocked by the news. Everything ran through my mind, disordered and chaotic. I hoped Roger had written down clear guideless regarding his funeral.

Who would decide how it would be?

Would it be his recently estranged Christian wife, Pauline?

Corina, his new girlfriend, who would no doubt be trying to communicate with him via an Ouija board or conducting a Séance.

Or Noah? The only son.

Who I was certain would just keep his head down and let the women fight it out.

'I will phone you, if that's ok. I'd like to be involved in the planning... I know you might not believe it but he was never happy with your mother, you know' Corina said bitterly.

Noah looked up suddenly.

'How would you know? They were together for thirty years before you came along. You have only known him a matter of months.' He eyes flashed angrily.

'Noah,stop.' I said.

He was upset and it was not the time to start a 'who loved Roger the most?' competition.

I kissed Corina goodbye at the door, her strong flowery perfume bringing more tears to my eyes.

Maisy had fallen asleep beside me, so I pulled a blanket from the Ottoman and laid it gently on her. She was so young and innocent. I was scared to think how this might mess with her head and her emotions. Noah was still in shock. I knew what it was like to lose a parent. Your feelings shift from moment to moment. Shock, anger, sadness. Noah had surprised me when he had flared up at Corina but her comment had provoked it.

She was bang out of order and he would naturally defend his mother.

Noah had gone outside, I suspected for a cigarette. He had given up when I was pregnant with Maisy, but I had smelt it on his clothes when I did the washing a couple of times. I worried that the stress of managing a business was getting to him. Our mortgage and bills were higher in the new house and his parents splitting up, must have added to his concerns. I did not want him to drive himself to an early grave, trying to maintain our new lifestyle, especially if failing hearts ran in his family.

The front door clicked open and my stomach knotted. I knew it was Pauline and I just wanted to pull Maisy's blanket over my head and pretend I wasn't there. She would be devastated. I had already seen Amber crushed and now it was members of my family were suffering. Pauline didn't come into the living room and I heard her speaking to Noah. I eased off the sofa and leaned against the wall by the door, out of sight but able to listen. I heard him telling Pauline what had happened.

I thought I would hear her crying but she was silent. I decided to stop cowering behind the door and go and help Noah out, he needed my support.

'I'm so sorry Pauline' I said.

She took off her coat and looked at me, her expression blank.

'This I say then, walk in the spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh, Galatians chapter 5 verse 16. He sold himself to the devil. If he had stayed with me, he could have repented, been forgiven and cleansed.' Pauline said.

'He had a heart attack mum' Noah said incredulously.

'Do you think that would have happened if he was with me?... No.'

It was a good point, before Corina, there was no way Pauline and Roger would have been on a ghost train.

'I don't think it was the devil punishing him, Pauline, these things happen. Had he ever had any problems with his heart before?' I said.

'Never. And when it comes to repenting, maybe you should get yourself down to church on a Sunday, rather than sloping around in your dressing gown, nursing a hangover and relying on the television to occupy the children.'

My jaw dropped wide.

'Hey! That's enough!' Noah said loudly.

I wanted to punch her, a clean punch right in the gob, but I couldn't move.

'Go upstairs mum, I know you're upset, we all are. But what you just said was nasty and spiteful. I won't have my wife spoken to like that. Now, go and I will bring you a cup of tea up'

Pauline turned on her heel and marched from the room.

I banged the worktop hard with my hand.

It hurt.

'Did you just hear that?' I said spluttering the words.

I obviously knew that he had, but it was the first thing that came out.

'She's a head case Noah. A fucking head case.'

My fists were tight and I wanted to throw something. I wished I'd still had my Weeble.

'Look, emotions are running high. She didn't mean it' He wrapped his arms around me.

'Bloody sounded like she meant it. Enough bloody conviction in her voice. She has never liked me'

'Oh, don't... She has always been ok with you' Noah said.

I eased away from him and he moved to the kettle and began making three cups of tea.

I pointed to one cup.

'Don't forget to add the Gin. She's more bearable when she's pissed'

Noah glared at me.

'Enough' He said

'Why? Are you going to send me to my room too?!' I rattled out.

I realised how ridiculous I was being and remembered that I had gone into the kitchen to be supportive, not to aggravate the situation with childish quarrelling.

But she had started it.

We sat in the living room, neither of us spoke. Noah had carried a sleeping Maisy upstairs and laid her on the airbed. I was sprawled out on the sofa and Noah sat in the armchair, the heel of one foot rested on the knee of the other leg.

'We will have to all get together to plan the funeral. It's going to be a nightmare'

He was right.

Pauline, Corina, Noah and I.

I was rapidly thinking of reasons why I couldn't be there.

Minor surgery? I had to go or else I would be bumped to the bottom of the waiting list.

Perhaps I was playing the hind legs of a donkey in a local amateur dramatic performance, without me the show About an Ass would have to be cancelled, disappointing tens of people.

I never understood the appeal of amateur theatre. I could understand why people might decide to act in it; driven by boredom, egotism or the prospect of meeting someone you might want to shag and landing yourself a saucy scene with them.

Given permission for the sake of art, to legitimately sidle up to your unsuspecting crush without giving them grounds to take out an injunction against you.

But, to pay to watch amateur theatre, that baffled me.

To part with good money to sit in a drafty church hall, on chairs that make your bum sweat and lose all sensation, on a Wednesday night. To be missing the final part of a gripping drama perhaps staring John Simm to watch a shoddily directed recounting of a half baked tale by a bunch of middle aged locals.

To smile with patronising enthusiasm as self proclaimed 'actors' bumble around the stage, missing cues and overacting to compensate for the bare faced cheek of charging £10 a ticket. If anything, the audience was the better actors, smiling and clapping, offering encouraging nods and pretending that the whole thing wasn't a bag of bollocks.

Maybe, when we discussed the funeral, I could play scribe and quietly take notes. I wanted an administrative role, not a decision making one.

It seemed likely that I would have to be on hand with the first aid kit and my old college book 'How to Manage Conflicts without Using Restraints or Gags'.

I was sad that Roger had only just started to enjoy himself before his heart attack. But, at least he had died having felt briefly alive beforehand. Noah eased himself up and stretched, tilting his head from side to side, probably to relieve the tension in his neck.

'I will go up and speak to mum, clear the air. We need to sort this out tomorrow. Could you phone Corina and ask her to come around about 7-ish?' He said.

'Me? Oh, Ok. Better once the kids are in bed, I suppose. I might try and talk to Maisy more tomorrow, to see if she is making sense of it all'.

Noah leaned down and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him so tightly, I nearly pulled him over.

'I am so sorry' I mumbled into his neck.

I was. It was all kinds of shit.

'Me too' he said, his dewy eyes glistening as I looked up at him.

He ran his hand through his hair, leaving it tousled.

I loved him so much, seeing him hurting was almost too much to bear.

The next morning I woke up just gone 9am. I squinted at the clock and panicked. I threw back the duvet, so forcefully it fell in a heap on the floor. I had wanted to get up early and start to manage the fallout of yesterday's news. Noah's side of the bed was empty, his shirt and shorts which had been draped over the rocking chair were gone.

I wriggled into my dressing gown and dashed downstairs.

In the kitchen, a frying pan was hissing and spitting on the cooker, filled with thick sausages and lean rashers of bacon.

Noah stood nearby, clutching his phone with one hand and scrolling down its lit face with the other.

'Morning'

'Morning babe' Noah said casually, distracted by his dealings on the phone.

'Sorry I got up so late, not sure why I didn't wake up.' I said pouring fresh steaming coffee from the jug.

'You tossed and turned all night. You were sleep talking too. Going on about being a escort or something.'

He looked at me and smirked.

'That's not what you are actually doing when you say you are going to Amber's, is it?'

'Yes, my clients love it when I turn up for our 'dates' with two kids and one-armed Annie in tow' I said, retrieving Annie from the chair and trying to look provocative by pouting and hitching up my nightshirt.

Noah turned the bacon with a spatula.

'Not sure I could get anyone to actually pay for this'

I looked down at myself and frowned.

I flipped open a hand mirror that was on the counter top and glared at the little image reflected back. My hair stuck up in clumps like I had been electrocuted. Dark bags hung beneath my bloodshot eyes, new wrinkles seemed to have appeared at the corners of my eyes overnight.

Remnants of mascara clung to my eye lashes and black residue gathered in the dewy lids.

I groaned.

I heard Maisy singing along to a Cbeebies song in the living room. I pictured the fresh, brightly dressed presenters, bobbing on the screen, big smiles fixed on their strategically chosen faces. At least Maisy seemed to be her usual self despite recent events. Kids were resilient, but I would have to talk to her.

'What did your mum say last night? Is she up?' I said to Noah as he took a bite from his sandwich.

'I had to wake her, she mumbled something, which I took as confirmation that she would be here tonight before she started snoring. She's out now'

'Out?' I said, surprised

'She was just leaving when I got up with the girls. She said she was going to Jim's'

I raised my eyebrows and flicked the kettle on.

'Lucky Jim'.

I studied Noah as he ate and continued to gaze at his phone. He seemed alright. Maybe the reality of what had happened hadn't sunk in yet. He was a strong person and rarely got emotional. He was stoic, like his mother but he also shared her vulnerability. I needed to look out for shit hitting the fan.

I showered, dressed and covered my face with almost an entire tub of concealer.

I told Noah that was going to pop up to Amber's house.

'I will take Maisy, Gracie is asleep. Can she stay with you?'

Noah nodded. He was sat at the computer, scrolling through listings of funeral directors. He lifted his cup of coffee.

'Yeah, will you be long?' He took a sip of the dark, bitter liquid.

I sensed he didn't want to be alone. This was unusual, as he was normally fiercely independent and self-reliant. He supported others, not the other way around.

'Half an hour max. I just want to ask her for a couple of days off. I left my phone there too and I want to pick it up'

'Ok, see you in a while' Noah said glumly.

I closed the front door quietly behind us so as not to wake the baby and breathed in the fresh, chilly morning air.

Amber pressed buttons on her coffee machine which made it whirr and grind. I had accepted the offer of more caffeine, as I struggled to gather my thoughts and sat slumped in a kitchen chair. Tiredness crept over me like a grey fog.

'That is so awful' Amber said, covering her mouth with her hand.

I had just told her about Roger and his untimely demise on the ghost train.

'Yeah, especially kicking the bucket, with your girlfriend and granddaughter whooping and cheering, as the grim reaper carries you off'

I found it hard not to resort to humour. It was what I did when things in life went tits up.

'When's the funeral? Are you having the wake at yours?' Amber said.

I hadn't considered the wake.

I hadn't really considered anything.

'I don't know, the prospect of mass catering fills me with dread.' I said.

I had hosted a dinner party in 2003 for colleagues at work and everything I served was frozen in the middle. My boss asked humourlessly, if all of the food on his plate was courtesy of Captain Birds Eye.

I curtly replied that the beans were Heinz.

No one ate, so the wine worked its magic in super fast time and most of the guests were pissed as farts by 9pm.

However, the whole evening ground to a screeching halt shortly after a game of Charades when, Paul, the inebriated head of Human Resources acted out 'having an affair with your wife' to the sober designated driver, Grant from I.T.

This was actually more than a Charade.

It was a fact everyone in the room, besides Grant, knew to be true.

It took twenty minutes and four more rounds of drunken miming for Grant to realise that his wife's new penchant for step aerobics lessons were, in truth, a cover story for lessons in how to get ahead, in giving head, to the head of human resources.

As the story goes, she had passed her final exam with flying colours. This was evidenced in a rather explicit, photographic and pornographic 'round robin' email that circulated the office. An enlightened Grant, had stood up, walked over to Paul and punched him straight in the face, before striding out the house, the front door slamming shut behind him. Paul clutched face in pain.

'Shit, he was giving me a lift home'. He said.

I had the blood stains in the carpet for months.

Amber laid out some paper and crayons for Maisy on the table. Maisy's hair hung in clumps around her face as she doodled. I had forgotten to brush it that morning.

'I suppose the wake will have to be at ours. I can't imagine us all cramming into Corina's caravan or trekking off to Pauline's. Pauline definitely won't want to go to the pub. I am not even sure where the funeral will be yet. We are having a meeting tonight'

I dipped a nutty biscuit in my warm, milky coffee.

'I can help you with the food. Rufus is home for the holidays tomorrow. He has been in Toronto visiting his grandparents and hiking in the Rockies' Amber said.

'He is a whiz in the kitchen, cooks for everyone in the dorm at school. I'm sure he would help and anyway, I'd like you to meet him' Amber smiled and patted my shoulder.

I was interested to meet him too. I wondered if he knew how he came to be, the product of a whore-client relationship.

I still couldn't think of Amber as an ex- prostitute.

To me, she would always be Amber, my friend.

My only relatively normal neighbour on The Hill.

'That would be brilliant. I'd love to meet Rufus and he is more than welcome to join the food committee in 'Operation Wake' Although, I'm not sure it will live up to summer in Canada'. I said.

Why wouldn't the feeling of dread leave my stomach?

I stood up and walked around behind Maisy to see what she had drawn. I looked down at it, puzzled. I then came to comprehend what I was seeing.

In black crayon, she had etched a crude image of a ghost train including white ghosts with big black eyes. They were emanating from either side of what I took to be the train carriages. In the front carriage was a stick figure, its arms up in the air. Its face was coloured in blue, the mouth a large circle and the eyes, black crosses.

Very sinister.

'That's an interesting picture Maise' I said. It was interesting.

Bloody terrifying but interesting.

My tone caught Amber's attention and she looked over before coming to see the art work for herself. She surveyed the page and her brow furrowed. Her eyes grew wide suddenly and she looked at me.

'It's Grandad' Maisy said, pointing at the figure in her picture.

'Yeah, I thought it might be' I said, stroking her hair with my clammy hand.

'He's dead, so I gave him crosses instead of eyes... like on cartoons' Maisy said.

'Hmm ok' I said slowly.

I looked at Amber and she shrugged her shoulders slightly.

'Is there anything you want to ask about Grandad or like, when you die or anything...' I said, cupping her little face with my hand.

Maisy wriggled in her seat and sat up on her knees.

'When you get buried, how long does it take for worms to eat you?'

Maisy's face was serious.

Amber put her hands up and shook her head, a slight smirk on her face.

This question was all mine, her reaction said.

'Erm, I'm not sure. I guess I've not really thought about that darling.'

'I think it must depend how fat you are. Granddad wasn't fat, so maybe until Christmas? ' Maisy said.

I was surprised at how dark and macabre her conversation had become but I hoped she was just trying to make sense of it all. I had never imagined these kinds of thoughts would enter her four year old mind. I didn't want to be one of those parents who wrapped their children in cotton wool, skirting all the tricky issues and shielding them from the real world. Neither did I want to cast bets with an infant on how many days it would take invertebrates to gobble her recently deceased Granddaddy.

Maisy continued her drawing, casually scrawling a stick figure with wild curly black hair, it was waving.

Corina.

'Maisy, I think granddad might be cremated rather than buried' I said bravely, suspecting more questions would follow. I was sure Roger had mentioned being cremated once after having been dragged back into the house from his woodshed by Pauline.

'What's that?' Maisy said.

Here we go.

'It's when the body is burned in a special fire, and then you get the ashes of the person, which is the dusty stuff you get when you burn something'

Not a bad explanation.

Maisy nodded her head to show she understood.

'You can then put those ashes somewhere that was special to the person who died'

'Wouldn't that hurt, being put in a fire?' Maisy's eyes grew wide.

Amber threw me a look, before quickly turning away.

'No, Maisy, because you'd already be...'

'Dead?'

'Well, yeah'

'Oh'

A moment of silence followed.

'Is there anything else you want to know?' I said calmly.

'Yes'

Great.

I tensed and readied myself.

'Can I go to the toilet?'

I sighed audibly with relief. Amber walked over to Maisy and rubbed her shoulders.

'Come on dumpling, I'll take you'

Amber stroked my arm and I mock cried.

I wasn't prepared for this.

When I got home, Noah was in the study, scribbling down details of funeral directors on a pad. I stood and watched as he noted an email address. He looked absorbed in his endeavours.

He did this when things were bad. He got lost in a task, so the reality of it all wouldn't come crashing down on him.

'How you getting on, love?' I said softly

'Yeah, got a couple to ring. Need to wait until we know what we are going to have first. Have you phoned Corina?' He said as he glanced up.

I had been putting off the inevitable, but she needed to come that night.

'I will now, pass the phone over'

Noah reached for the portable phone and it clicked out of the base and beeped. Corina's number was held in the memory of the phone. I had tapped it in, in case of an emergency, just after Roger and Corina had driven away to the fair with Maisy.

I scrolled down and found her name between 'Choy Chinese' and 'Cristie at Slimmer's City'.

Oh the irony.

I had forgotten Cristie's number was still in there, I had long since given up dieting but my passion for Chinese food lived on. I used to have to call Cristie at Slimmer's City and follow her chirpy answering machine message with my own shame faced ramblings. Essentially, I was telling her with embarrassing regularity that I couldn't make the weigh- in meeting, because I had been to the Choy Chinese three times that week and had most certainly fallen off the slimming wagon.

I had no intention of paying £5.25 to be told by Cristie of Slimmer's City that I was a greedy guts with no willpower before she pointed out the Hoi Sin sauce dried on my chin.

My double chin.

I let the phone ring into my ear. I coughed nervously before Corina's voice answered.

I asked how she was doing and she said she was bearing up, but the reality of the situation had not hit home yet. We shared a few more cliché exchanges which generally get uttered in such circumstances. Afterwards, I mulled these cliché's over. It was all so sudden, but he's in a better place.

No, he's not. Given the option you wouldn't say; No, it's better for Roger to be dead rather than enjoying the first day he has ever spent alone with his granddaughter. Much better in a fridge in the morgue, grey and sporting a named toe tag, than having a roast beef dinner and a natter around the kitchen table.

At least you had some fun times together. He had had a good life.

He had had an alright life, so far. He wasn't exactly begging for an expiry date, an abrupt end to his newly found fun. Corina and he would have wanted to do lots more things together but the opportunity was snatched away. The sight of a fast appearing mechanical ghost had triggered a cardiac arrest and that was that.

Roger hadn't sat in the cold light of day and stated that his quota of good times had been filled and it was now time to throw in the towel and propel his family into grief stricken chaos.

A beam of light hadn't shone from between the parting clouds and taken him visibly upwards away from our mortal coil because life on earth was no longer his thing.

He now had other stuff to be getting on with far, far away.

He was simply someone with a weakened heart possibly caused by disease and he had had an adrenaline rush due to a fright and his system just couldn't handle it.

End of discussion.

His life had been good, in that he hadn't murdered anyone or brought about notable suffering, but until recently it had been inexcusably dull.

Just as he had come to his senses and broken free from a crap marriage, just as he had started to get interesting, he had dropped dead.

It was hugely unjust and saying; everything happens for a reason is bullshit unless the reason is a wicked one clarified by undeserved pain and loss. Corina had ended the phone call by confirming that she would be at our house at 8pm. I wondered if my untimely death might free me from what would undoubtedly be a tense and uncomfortable gathering. I shook the morbid thought from my head and went off to the loo, which I suddenly realised I desperately needed.

Chapter 24

The cups and saucers jangled on the tin tray as I slowly proceeded into the living room.

The evening meeting concerning the funeral was about to begin.

Corina took her tea with a smile that grotesquely framed her brown, crooked teeth. Noah gave me an odd look as he took from the tray, a bone China cup decorated with a tiny illustration of a country cottage and its matching saucer.

I could tell he was wondering where such fine service wear had suddenly come from, as well as pondering why it had made its debut appearance at that moment in time. Death and my selection of novelty mugs just wouldn't do.

How can one sufficiently contemplate their loss whilst drinking out of a mug that says

If size doesn't matter, how come I'm so popular?

We were meeting through grief so it had to be tea cups and they had to be twee.

I saw the cogs clicking around in Noah's head as he rewound his memory clock by an hour to when he had found me scrabbling around in the loft. I had been blurting expletives as I brought my head up hard against a low beam for the fourth time.

'What are you doing up there?' He said through the loft hatch.

'I wanted to use my new ladder' I said ironically as if I had no real purpose for lolloping around in the eaves of the house.

The cups and saucers had been a wedding present from my mum. My mum and my dad really, but mum had chosen and lovingly wrapped them with luxury wrapping paper and curled an abundance of ribbons to decorate them.

She had written a heartfelt message in the tiny card and stuck a miniature photograph of me as a little girl inside. I had thanked dad for them the next day, having already thanked my mum and he had looked at me blankly.

'Oh... I'm glad you liked it sweetheart. Your mum's choice... She said you hadn't got one' he had said stumbling over the words.

I could have toyed with him as he clearly had no idea what the gift had been, but I just kissed his cheek and smiled.

The cups and saucers weren't stored in the loft because I didn't like them.

They were in there because I cherished them.

The wedding was the last time mum had been really well and she had got very merry on sparkling wine and danced with me until four in the morning.

It was a fabulous night.

She looked stunning in an azure blue dress that hugged her trim figure. Dad's jaw had hit the floor when she had descended the stairs before the wedding cars came to collect us. She looked coyly at us, not understanding just how beautiful she was, her honey coloured hair tumbling in curls over her shoulders.

Just like Maisy's.

She wasn't a flirt, she was totally devoted to dad and she let everyone know that night, as they twirled and spun together on the dance floor. They had been taking dancing lessons and put everyone else to shame.

Noah's auntie Trisha had tried to compete with my parents show stealing routines. However, she had alienated most of the crowd within minutes when she revealed her talent to be line dancing.

Trisha is married to Noah's uncle Keith and like his sister Pauline, he didn't dance. Keith didn't do anything.

Trisha had resorted to line dancing because no partner was required.

At the reception, she went so far as to pull on cowboy boots retrieved from her car in a Waitrose carrier bag which were stored there 'just by chance' she told us.

They looked a treat with her raspberry coloured twin set from Monsoon. She then adorned her head with a tan cowboy hat that she had stuffed into her sequin covered shoulder bag. Trisha had tried to get guests to join her line but people felt increasingly less inclined as she barked out the instructions in a firm voice to those who did oblige and yelled without restraint at anyone who missed a step.

For the next hour, Trisha was alone on the dance floor with the exception of a deaf great uncle of mine and a two year old girl who was preoccupied with whipping up her party dress and flashing her knickers a table of cheering geriatrics who thought she was hysterical.

Eventually, the D.J's country and western music collection had been exhausted and a drunken conga line assembled. It snaked around the room and Trisha's hat was stolen and sported by my cousin Jason, who was eighth in the line, but first to slip over in a pool of spilled beer.

Three others followed him arse first onto the floor, one of whom was me.

Another was Trisha who skidded to the floor, in true slapstick style, before she angrily marched from the hall.

Right back to the funeral discussion.I sat down on the sofa, a delicate tea cup nestled in my lap. I was rigid with tension but the brown liquid sloshed from side to side, so I set it down on the coffee table. Corina was rustling nervously through some scrappy looking pieces of paper. The lamp shone through them I could see they were covered with hand written notes. Her hands shook as she held them.

'I'm sure mum won't be long' Noah said.

Corina gave him a grin, her seaweed coloured tusks exposed.

She was dressed in a stretchy crushed velvet floor length dress that accentuated every bulge of flesh; her gold belt with a sun shaped buckle pulled her waist in like a link on sausage. Her heavy musk perfume hung in the air and I felt like I was going to choke on its taste.

Pauline was twenty minutes late and each minute seemed like sixty. The seconds pounding out of the grandfather clock on the wall like the beat of a drum.

At half past eight the front door banged, then banged again, then a third time. We all looked at the living room door which was ajar and then when no one entered, we glanced awkwardly at each other.

'Bloody thing!' A voice that was unmistakably Pauline's sounded in the hallway.

One final bang and the door caught the latch and stayed shut.

Then followed a huge crash and we all jumped about five inches out of our seats. Noah's tea cup and saucer were launched into the air and tumbled as if in slow motion on to the hardwood floor and cracked into about a dozen pieces. A drizzle of un-drunk tea pooled, some trickling down the crack between two floorboards.

Noah and I both leapt forward to deal with the mess and our heads crashed together. We pulled back dazed from the impact.

'Oh my goodness!' Corina said getting out of her seat.

' I'm so sorry, love.' Noah looked at me and I could see genuine despair in his eyes.

I gathered up the tiny pieces of my treasured tea cup and feigned a smile.

'It's only a cup' I said.

I hoped he couldn't see my bottom lip wobble.

He looked at me and we both knew I was lying.

He rubbed my arm.

Noah then gestured towards the door before he left the room and closed the door behind him.

'Oh darling, were they special ones?' Corina asked softly, tilting her head to one side.

I couldn't speak, tears hung in my eyelids.

I nodded at her and tipped the mosaic of little pieces onto the table.

Just a cup.

Corina and I proceeded to sit and listen in stunned silence to the altercation that took place behind the closed door of the living room. Noah's words hushed at first.

Then as clear as day he asked his mother if she was drunk.

'So what if I am?' Pauline said like an impertinent teenager 'I'm in grief!'

'You have just pulled the book shelf off the wall! Noah said incredulously.

I looked up quickly.

Not more broken things.

I imagined the hallway floor covered in around forty hard backed books, not to mention all the photograph frames that were positioned decoratively on the top shelf of the book case.

A display of our wonderful life.

'It was an accident, get over it!'

It sounded like Pauline but it didn't sound like Pauline.

It was like she was possessed. Just drunk not possessed.

'You stink of gin! You were supposed to be here at eight. Corina's in there. We are all waiting for you to discuss the funeral plans. Where the hell have you been?'

I could hear clattering and I supposed Noah was trying to stand the bookcase back up.

'I was out with Jim, at first... but he told me it was over. Imagine telling a woman the day after her husband dies that you are dumping her?'

Pauline obviously had no concept of how mental that sentence sounded.

'He had already plied me with gin, as he was too scared to tell me. Thought if I was tipsy it would mellow me. It did not! I threw his accordion out of the window and to my delight I managed to hit his greenhouse in the process.'

Another bang.

'For Christ's sake mum!'

'Noah, language' Pauline said, chiding her grown up son.

Corina looked at me her drawn-on eyebrows raised as high as they would go.

The thudding from outside the door continued and I assessed that this was the books being put back onto the shelves. My stomach was tight in a knot, my arms wrapped tightly around my body as I sat on the edge of the sofa.

'I then got a call from Carol who said she hadn't seen me in ages, would I go 'round. I was leaving Jim's anyway so I hailed a cab in the town and came up The Hill. He charged me eighteen pounds. Is that right Noah? Eighteen pounds, just to come from the town? I think he was taking advantage of me.' Pauline's words slurred.

The cab driver had not just taken advantage of the pissed pensioner, eighteen pounds was daylight robbery. I had treated myself to a taxi a couple of times when I had had lots of shopping or was simply too idle to endure the walk up the hill and it cost a fiver maximum.

'I don't know mum' Noah sighed loudly. He was angry.

Poor Noah. This was hard enough without the additional drama.

'Carol was more than happy to open the gin and to be honest with you, in the end I felt like she was using it to make me stay' Pauline said.

Corina wrung her hands anxiously as we continued to listen like we were tuned into a gripping drama on the radio.

'Did you say that dreadful fairground woman is in there?' Pauline said loudly.

I could feel Corina's eyes on me but I just surveyed the floor, refusing to look up.

'We are supposed to be discussing dad's funeral plans. Look, go and splash some water on your face and I will make you a strong coffee. You need to sober up because, grief stricken or not, this needs doing'

Nothing further was said and footfalls could be heard as Noah and Pauline went off to complete their respective tasks. I felt a rush of relief crash over me and I took a deep breath.

'I've never liked gin' Corina said matter-of-factly.

I gave her a tight-lipped smile.

'Me neither'

Mother's ruin.

Several minutes passed before the living room door eased open and Noah entered and sat down. Pauline appeared shortly afterwards, her face glistening with water and her eye makeup smudged down her cheeks. She wobbled as she negotiated her way to a chair, giving me a courteous nod and then stopped slowly to stare through slit eyes at Corina.

'So this is what he left me for?' Pauline said venomously.

I hoped this question was rhetorical.

Corina's looked instantly vexed by Pauline's insults.

I felt that she would be more than a match for Pauline if provoked.

Carnival folk weren't to be messed with.

Pauline had to be half cut in order to be uninhibited enough to make jibes at Corina. I imagined that Corina could soberly take Pauline out with one punch of her ring encrusted fist and that would be that.

Fairground folk were tough.

I had always taken Pauline to be a timid God fearing-Christian woman from middle England. The only argument I had know her to have been in was one with an Avon lady who had double charged her for a very nude lipstick.

I imagined she would crumble if pitched in a head to head with Corina.

She certainly scared the living daylights out of me.

Noah told Pauline to sit down and shut up.

He was quite sexy when he took control. I had been sat being as useful as a nodding dog for the last ten minutes so it was time for me to call this ramshackle meeting to order.

'Ok, look...we are all feeling very delicate at the moment. Things are still raw but we do need to make these arrangements and is it fair to say we all want things to be as close to how Roger would have wanted them to be?' I said.

This was an obvious question that triggered nods from everyone.

I didn't want any more controversy, so I was playing it safe.

'I know precisely what he wanted because I have the will' Pauline said bluntly

Ah, the will.

'Oh alright Pauline...I did assume he must have written something down somewhere' I said with a weak smile.

'Oh he didn't write it, I just know. You see dear, when you have been with a man as long as Roger and I were together, there is nothing you don't know about each other'

I looked at Corina whose face was stony.

'So it's not actually written?' I said and sat forward in my seat.

'The financial concerns are written and with the solicitor, but I only wish to discuss those with family and will benefactors. I assure you that does not include her!' She jabbed her finger a Corina.

Corina turned up her nose and looked away.

Pauline wriggled as if plumping up her feathers, a mother hen sat proudly on the nest. She refused to make eye contact with Corina, treating her presence like you might that of a defendant in court who had wronged you.

'So what did Dad want then, mum? I don't really remember him ever discussing with me ' Noah said.

'He wanted to be cremated and his funeral to be at the little church in Bellfield. His ashes to be scattered in the garden of remembrance' Pauline said.

She rubbed her forehead. A hangover caused by foolish daytime boozing was enveloping her.

Corina huffed loudly and purposefully brushed invisible dust from her front with both hands.

I looked over to her and braced myself.

'Sound more like that's what she wants, not what Roger wanted'

'Is that not what he told you then, Corina?' said Noah.

Good, Noah was mediating. I feared that dealing with the discussion would be like refereeing a fierce and adrenaline fuelled football match.

Germany versus England.

Deciding whether the England foul was just a scuffle or whether it was a penalty, that would win Germany the game.

I was becoming a real coward.

'He told me and may I add that we rarely discussed such morbid matters as we chose to enjoy life and living. Not dwell on our mortality' Corina said.

It was Pauline's turn to fall stony faced.

She seemed quite sober now, but the claws were certainly out. She was biding her time.

'Roger wanted to be cremated, that much is true, but as for the ashes, well... he wanted them scattered on his allotment. He told me as much just last month. We had a real giggle talking about how he would live on as prize winning marrow. I promised I would show him at the county show' Corina said and gave Noah a toothy grin.

'Absurd and you just said you didn't discuss such matters' Pauline said under her breath and shook her head,

'Well, you have nothing in writing to say he didn't want that' Corina spat.

'You have nothing in writing to say that he did!' Pauline said in response, leaping to her feet.

Noah sighed.

I felt sorry for him caught between these two women whilst feeling crushed with sadness himself. Throwing himself into the practical arrangements would be a distraction but I wondered just how he would feel afterwards.

How would he be once the proverbial and literal dust had settled?

Wherever that may be.

Corina cleared her throat and started to straighten all of the rings on her fingers so that each was facing upwards. I glanced at the little row of skulls, suns, eagles and coloured gemstones adorning each stubby finger, topped with a black painted nail.

Pauline looked at me and smiled.

'I had said he should have a horse drawn carriage, you know... add some pomp and ceremony to the occasion. I said we could use my horse, Zodiac. Put a plume on his head, dress him up smart.'

I nodded earnestly.

No, no, no.

I envisioned some kind of dark, Victorian funeral procession up a gloomy, damp dimly lit street. The local people stood curiously at the edge of the road on cobbled pavements under dim street lights, cloaks around them to shield their bodies from the drizzle. The clip clopping of horse hooves and the clatter of turning wheels on the carriage that held the dark wooden coffin, deafening in the silence.

Pauline tutted and huffed noisily.

'Roger despised horses, most animals in fact. Don't you remember Noah? When you kept asking for a dog? I relented in the end and we took one of the puppies off Mrs Grimshaw, who worked in the florist. Your dad was at work. When he got home, he took one look at that dog, before shoving it in the car and driving it straight back to Mrs Grimshaw. She was most put out.' Pauline said.

Noah nodded and shrugged.

'I cried myself to sleep for a week' He said as if were still a dog-less little boy.

'Exactly! Now this crazy woman thinks your dad was some kind of animal lover and his final wish to be dragged to the crematorium by one.' Pauline crossed her arms indignantly.

Corina's face reddened and she began to crack each knuckle.

'Who are you calling crazy? I haven't rolled up here as drunk as a lord from my boyfriends hous, who from what I gather is some sort of criminal who needs locking up' Corina was nearly out of her chair.

Shit here we go.

They were going to be scrapping on the floor in a minute.

Noah and I sat up and readied ourselves for an altercation like two security guards on The Jeremy Kyle Show. We had both watched the pumped up men in the black t shirts stepping between two overweight, ugly women who planned to fight to the death over a jobless, toothless, bathless no hoper. A shadow of a man who may or may not have fathered their baby.

Today, it was Pauline and Corina's love triangle.

Pauline again jabbed her finger angrily at Corina, her face contorted into a grimace.

A vein throbbed in her neck.

'That quite frankly is none of your concern. Not that it is any of your business, but Jim is no longer my male companion anyway. Yes I have had a drink to aid my grief, but at least my grief is genuine...' Pauline stood with her hands on her hips

'He didn't put you in the will, you know. He hasn't changed it. He would have informed me' Pauline's tone was acid and she was squaring up to Corina, her face red with fury.

'I don't want anything, I have everything I need. The only thing I wanted...was Roger' Corina said, wiping away a tear angrily as she looked up at her love rival.

'Ha! You were a bit of cheap totty on the internet. It wasn't love, it was lust. The devil won' Pauline said with a sneer.

I was tempted to intervene but I reasoned that they needed to get all of this stuff out Otherwise it would rear its head at another time.

Like at the funeral...or the wake.

Noah had fallen silent but was very much aware of how volatile the situation was as he flinched each time his mother or his father's mistress spat insults at each other.

'He needed me, he couldn't bear the thought of more years wasted with a dried up old prude like you.' Corina's eyes narrowed as she spoke.

I stood between the two women.

'Hey now! Come on, come on. Right, back to the horse thing. So...a plume? Where exactly would you get one of those?' I said.

No one answered.

Pauline was quiet for a moment. She was either considering whether what Corina had just said was actually true or thinking up a comeback so vicious it would cut Corina down to size once and for all.

As it turned out, it was neither of these things.

Pauline opened her mouth and torrent of gin induced vomit rainbow-ed out of her mouth, covering the contents of my magazine rack, complete with magazines. It also succeeded in knocking the second of my best china cups and saucer down with force onto the hard floor. The cup chipped and a piece skidded across the floorboards and under the sofa.

The saucer fell into three pieces.

Everyone looked at the broken china, then at Pauline. Pauline looked at her dripping hands which appeared to be soiled solely with neat gin. Then everyone looked at me and I knew my mouth was hanging open.

Pauline dashed from the room with a high pitched cry. Her pallor was green.

A moment of silence followed.

'I'll get a towel...and a cloth...and a dustpan and brush' Noah said in a dry tone and also vacated the now stinking living room.

Corina lifted her feet, encased in purple slip on shoes to spare them from becoming soaked in the soggy mess that lurked close by on the floor.

Noah returned and together he and I tackled the acrid smelling spillage. My stomach lurched as I cleaned and my chest tightened as I looked at the broken china close up. Noah brushed the pieces into the pan.

'Maybe we can find some replacements?' He said kindly, his eyes were glistening.

We both knew it wouldn't be the same.

The floor was clear and the air sprayed with air freshener that made me cough. After a short time, Pauline returned purposefully to the room as if nothing had happened. She was wearing a fresh blouse and trousers. Her hair was damp.

'Sorry, I'm sorry about your cup dear...and the...I really shouldn't have drunk so much today'

Pauline patted my shoulder. It felt like genuine affection but I couldn't help flinching when I thought about what her hand had been covered in only a short time ago.

'At least you didn't come home singing Sister Act,' I said.

Noah smirked but Pauline looked at me seriously.

This situation needed lightening, even just for Noah and my benefit.

It also needed concluding.

We all sat down again avoiding the sofa pad with a wet patch on it.

I decided to take charge and gain some clarity as to what was actually going to happen on the day that we said goodbye to dearest Roger, a dead man, who had no idea what pandemonium he had caused.

I took a pen and paper and after ten minutes we had all agreed that Roger would be cremated. Half his ashes would go on the marrows and half on in the church garden. At the funeral, next to his coffin we would display some of his wood carvings, which only Pauline had ever seen. She insisted were a product of a lifetime of Roger's work. A photograph of his largest marrow and a picture of him with his grandchildren would be displayed. Corina had suggested with a straight face having a coffin painted like a marrow. She evidently knew a marvellous artist who would do it for us.

We all looked at her like she was either delirious or was taking the piss most inappropriately.

She then admitted that her suggestion might be taking the marrow theme too far.

And then some.

You crazy old pikey lady.

Pauline would read from the bible, hopefully not that chapter, I remember having drummed into us in GCSE Religious Studies, about pissheads not inheriting the Kingdom of God. Or any reference to the commandment that mentions adultery or taking a mistress. The coffin would be mahogany with red velvet inner. I did wonder whether Roger still wore his wedding ring. I presumed not and certainly did not want to set Sadie Frost and Sienna Miller here off again.

Noah chose 'Immortality' by the Bee Gees to be played and everyone nodded in agreement as Roger owned every Bee Gees album and had always been a big fan. Noah wanted to read too.

Pauline said she would like a hymn, she told us the name of one, but only Noah knew it. Hymns are essentially different words to the same tune; you can guess the rise and fall of the notes and sing along fairly accurately, despite having never heard it before. Rather like shit pop songs.

Thank fully, the evening drew to a close and there was nothing left to decide. My eye twitched with tiredness and a headache spread across brow. I breathed a sigh of relief as I solemnly bid Corina farewell at the door and Pauline mumbled something incomprehensible before ascending the stairs to bed. Noah went to lock the back doors and as I followed Pauline upstairs, I could hear the rattle of beer bottles from the kitchen.

He definitely deserved a drink.

What a night.

Chapter 25

I eased open the door to Gracie's nursery and stood over her cot and watched my baby snore softly. She stirred and rolled onto her side and rubbed her face with her chubby fists. I froze, desperate not to wake her but wanting to stay and look at her just a little longer. I retrieved the crumbled blanket from foot of the cot and lay it over Gracie before I crept silently from the room. Next, I ducked around Maisy's bedroom door which stood half open. The room was warm and the unmistakable smell of urine hit my senses as I breathed in.

In the dim light, I knelt down to where Maisy was curled up on the airbed and I felt the duvet.

It was saturated. I lifted it off her and she started to wake up.

'Maisy sweetheart, I think you have had an accident' I said in a whisper.

She started to cry still half asleep, her throat croaky as she sobbed. Maisy had been dry at night for years and I couldn't remember the last time she had wet herself. I lifted her to her feet and she wobbled unsteadily as I peeled the wet material from her damp skin.

'It's alright. Let's just get you into some dry jimjams eh?'

I needed to wash her, so I lifted her up and carried her to the bathroom. Her shaking, naked body clung to me and I wrapped my arms tightly around her not caring that a lot of the wee was transferring onto me. I stood her in the shower cubicle and she sunk to the floor, wincing as her skin touched the cold porcelain. I ran the shower against my hand until it was warm.

'Up you get Maise, come on just a quick rinse then we can get you back into bed' I said.

I used a soft sponge to wash her and she started to wake up fully. She giggled as the water sprayed onto her wriggling toes.

'What's going on?' Noah said, his face appearing around the bathroom door.

'Maisy had an accident, that's all'.

'Really?' Noah said clearly as surprised as I was that Maisy had wet the bed after having had dry nights from a young age.

'She is only four' I said defensively, concern welling up inside me.

What if this was part of the trauma?

What if the psychological damage had already set in?

'Yeah, ok. If the airbed is all wet, she can come in with us tonight' Noah said with a smile and he blew Maisy a kiss.

I wanted to cuddle her and never let go.

Maisy wriggled her dry, clean pyjama clad body tightly against me as we snuggled under the duvet in our bed. She clung to me like a little chimpanzee might latch itself to its mother.

I couldn't sleep like that. I would have had to let her fall asleep and then detach her from me. Noah's arm lay over my shoulder and it was warm, heavy and reassuring. He smelt of beer and fresh deodorant which was pleasantly intoxicating. If Maisy hadn't been in the bed clinging to me for reassurance, I would have surely been clinging to Noah for comfort in much the same way. Laying looking out into the dark, I wondered how the next week would go.

I realised, I wanted my mum.

I was a grown woman with a family and responsibilities.

But, at that moment, I would have given anything to look up and see my mum sat on the end of the bed like she did in the mornings when I was young and taking my exams at school. She would bring me tea and breakfast in bed, believing that a good start to the day would spell success in the gruelling tests that would occupy the hours ahead.

Back then, as a teenager I would sit up groggily pushing up the pillows behind me, my face still caked in make up from the night before. My eyes would be itching and begging to be wiped clean. The sweet tea would engulf my dry mouth, pleasantly waking my dulled senses. My mum would smile at me, before scooping an armful of my discarded clothes from the floor and hooking her fingers through the handles of three mugs, dirty with week old dregs of furry, lumpy sludge that had once been tea. Usually, she would have barked at me, ordering an end to my squalid existence, but that week she hadn't said a word.

Carefully, she maintained the equilibrium.

She knew I was easily provoked and provocation would threaten my academic success. My mum was triumphant in her approach and I suppose my hard work contributed also, as I jubilantly handed her my GCSE results which were all A's and B's.

I had studied hard and it had paid off.

My mum badgered me to phone Grandma Elderado – named that after she moved to Spain- and share my exciting exam news. The conversation was awkward at first as the line was crackling, then tinny. Next it echoed everything I said. However, the line then became clearer and I started to get excited as Grandma Elderado suggested my friends and I should come and stay with her and have a girl's holiday to celebrate our exam results.

She would show us the sights and where the good looking boys were. I sensed she was joking about the boys but I was thrilled at the invite anyway.

I had held the phone aside and explained to my mum giddily that Grandma Elderado had said my friends and I could go to her house on holiday.

Intriguingly, at this point my mother had snatched the phone from my grasp and blurted hurriedly into the receiver that the call was costing a fortune and we had to go.

Next, I had to phone Nan and Grandad Dettol so named because they had become slightly barmy and took to cleaning everything with Dettol. Whenever I visited them with my parents Grandad talked to me a great length and in scientific detail about his anal absesses. It didn't seem to register with him that I might not want to hear about his ongoing condition or his conjecture that they could run in the family.

I was understandably horrified by the subject and before each visit I would beg my mum to let me sit in the car while they went in to assess the worsening senility of my dad's parents.

One time, we arrived at their house and knocked on the door several times. It yielded no response, so dad used his own key to unlock the door.

As a trio, my dad, my mum and I, slowly inched into the house, sensing something strange was afoot. Nan or Grandad always answered the door eventually.

We checked the lounge but it was empty, The Wheel of Fortune was playing loudly on the wood panelled television. We edged like a SWAT team along the hall and Dad lead the way into the kitchen which was eerily lit with one wax candle, flicking in a brass holder on the fold out table.

We all peered in.

Nan Dettol was on her hands and knees in the kitchen, her head deep in the oven and her rear end thrust up into the air. She was wearing a blue checked housecoat, thick tan tights and red slippers.

My dad looked back at my mum and me with a puzzled expression.

'Mum?' Dad said cautiously.

Nan Dettol squealed and we heard a clunk as she banged her head up onto the roof of the oven. She remained in place, groaning slightly.

'Mum, what are you doing?' My dad said.

I had immediately assumed she was cleaning the oven. She and Grandad were always cleaning things and there were three bottles of Dettol and a Jay cloth on floor by her bended knees.

A voice from inside the oven piped up.

'I am ending it all, Keith. I can't cope with it anymore. It's his anus, you see. It is always, my anus this and my anus that. Not a day goes by with a mention of his blasted anus. It's like a third person in our relationship. Like Camilla, with Charles and poor Diana. A triangle that needs to be broken!'

My Dad again looked at my mother and I and we gazed blankly back at him.

'But, what are you doing with your head in the oven'

'Killing myself, ending it all, son' Nan Dettol replied, sounding incredulous that he had not already recognised her efforts to commit suicide.

'But your oven is electric, mum'

Nan Dettol fell silent.

'Oh, I forgot about that... I've been in here since half past four. No wonder nothing much has happened. I did fall asleep for about ten minutes and woke up thinking I was in heaven, until I felt burned chicken stuck to my chin and I could hear Heartbeat coming on the television.

My dad moved behind my Nan and bent down.

'Are you going to come out? We are all gasping for a cuppa... and I promise I won't mention the 'a' word'.

We all watched. I certainly wasn't going to mention the 'a' word. I was sick of Grandad talking about it too. I felt Nan Dettol's pain.

Nan Dettol began to shuffle back and her head appeared from the square of the oven.

'Hello Stephanie. Oh, hello dear' She said to my mum and then to me, merrily. Not at all like a woman, who a moment ago was filled with despair and was attempting to take her own life. Her hair was wild on one side and pasted to head with sweat, on the other. Each hand was coated in grease and two brown streaks were smeared like war paint across her cheek. My dad helped her up and onto a wooden kitchen chair with a red gingham seat pad and she sighed as she slumped back, obviously relieved to finally be in a more comfortable position. She rubbed her knees through her tights.

'Where is Dad?' My dad said.

'Upstairs, he is using the Dettol wipes on it but it's just making it redder. I told him, he needs to leave it alone, but will he listen to me...no! Stubborn old fool'

'Shall I go and check on him? Just see that he is alright?' My mum said.

'If you dare, Stephanie dear' Nan Dettol said with a chortle, wiping the grease from her hands with a tea towel.

My mum gestured for me to follow her up the stairs. I shook my head fervently with my brow furrowed.

I mouthed 'no' as my mum smiled and took my arm, leading me along the hall. There was no way on earth I was going up there to look at Grandad disinfecting his bum.

'Go in there then and watch telly but for pities sake, turn it down.' My mum said pointing to the blaring television, as we stood outside the living room door.

Relieved that I wouldn't be accompanying mum to the place of my nightmares, I ducked into the living room and leapt onto Nan's adjustable chair.

I reclined it almost fully and revelled in the comfort. Then I realised that Nan and Grandad didn't have a remote control and that I would have to get up and go to the television to change the channel.

I hated that house, for a fourteen year old girl, it was so un-cool.

Overjoyed that exam result day was over, I got ready to go out, I had planned to go out with my friends but mum said I had to phone Nan and Grandad and at least tell them my results. A two minute cal, she said. I read the number from the phonebook and dialled it. It rang and rang.

'I think they are out' I said to my mum who was loitering by the phone, making sure I actually called and didn't just leg it out of the house the moment her back turned.

'They are never out' She said in response.

This was true.

Suddenly, I heard a banging noise on the end of the line.

'Nan?' I said hesitantly.

'Hold on please... if it's bleeding you idiot, leave it alone! I'm on the phone now so you will have to just wait!' My Nan's voice barked to Grandad on the other end of the phone.

I listened, my teeth clenched together.

'Who is it please?' My Nan suddenly enquired in a sing song tone.

'Er, it's me Nan. I just phoned to tell you that I got my exam results'

The line went quiet again. Then, I could hear shuffling and a door banged shut loudly, making me jump. Then, I heard my Nan clear her throat.

'Oh, that's brilliant dear! I am sure you did very well. I tell everyone at memory club that my little Granddaughter wants to be a doctor. And you have got the brains for it too.'

'I'd actually like to be a vet, Nan' I said.

'Same thing, a doctor for animals... You get to wear a white coat don't you?'

'Erm... I think so...'

'You will get a white coat?

'Er...Yes Nan'

'Well, there you go then, a doctor'

I looked up, my mum stood mouthing things, which I presumed were ideas for conversation starters but I couldn't make them out. They were more distracting than anything. I waved her away. I speedily reeled off my list of results and my Nan sounded suitably impressed. She asked if I wanted to speak to Grandad and then explained that he was just on the toilet and the straining I could hear, was him. She yelled at him to stop straining and to come and talk to his clever Granddaughter. At which point, I had flung the phone at my mum and made a dash for the front door.

Chapter 26

I woke up, cold and achy. I was perched on the edge of the bed, my face resting on the hard wood of the bedside table. I craned my neck over and saw Maisy laid spread eagled beside me, arms and legs wide as if she had fallen asleep whilst doing snow angels. Noah had his face buried in the pillow, the duvet covered half of him and one tanned, leg stretched out into the open air.

I rubbed my eyes and scrambled off the bed. My leg gave way as I stood and I fell back onto the edge of the mattress.

I must have slept on it awkwardly, it felt numb. I swore under my breath and readied myself to get up again. This time I was successful and I managed to both stand and wriggle into my dressing gown without incident. I padded out onto the landing flexing my numb foot as I went and then peered into Gracie's room. She was asleep and slurped noisily on her dummy,so I eased the door closed gently not believing my luck that I could enjoy a few minutes peace whilst everyone continued with their slumber.

Downstairs, I heard the television murmuring in a low tone in the living room. I went in and found Pauline sat watching the early morning news report. Beside her were three suitcases and a hat box.

'Morning dear, I hope I didn't wake you' Pauline said, and then fiddled with the top button on her coat.

In my head, I was surveying her, dressed in her coat and shoes with her luggage poised for departure. I became cruelly excited by the implications of the visage before me.

Was she finally going home?

I then realised she had asked me something and I hadn't replied.

'Erm, no, not at all. We had Maisy in with us last night. She sleeps like a starfish, so I was exiled to the very edge of the bed and I couldn't hang on any longer'

Pauline chuckled.

'She is a little sweetheart...I have decided, that despite your kind hospitality at this difficult time, it is high time I went home'

'Oh.. really?' I said trying to sound disappointed. My efforts were so-so. Commendable considering the early hour.

'Carol has said she will drive me home. I phoned her last night and she said she didn't mind. Very good of her'

'One of us would have driven you. You didn't have to ask Carol' I said.

I would have driven her, carried her bags, made sure she definitely did go home.

She gave me a warm smile and a hug.

I felt like such a bitch.

Pauline looked at her watch, stood up and went over to the window.

'Are you going now?' I said, surprised that she would be leaving without seeing Noah or the girls.

'Yes, I know it is early but Carol goes to Silver Surfers, you know the internet learning thing, at 1 O'clock and she won't be back in time if we don't head off now'

'But Noah and the girls would like to see you. Shall I go and wake them up?'

I felt awkward about her going so suddenly. I had wanted it to happen for weeks and now it was happening I felt the urge to delay it.

'No, no dear. Let them have a lie in. It's been a tough week...for all of us. It's not over yet. I need to get all Roger's legal paperwork in order.'

Pauline continued to look out of the window.

I saw the milk float bob passed the window and I instinctively ducked out of sight.

'The cleaner has been going into the house and she will clean the birds out for an extra £10, but she does a very slap dash job of it. Caribbean lady, long list of things she won't do, short list of things she will do and no list of things she does well.'

I giggled. Pauline could be quite amusing; she doesn't didn't realise she was.

'Oh, there she is!' Pauline said before hurriedly gathering up her bags.

'Here, I will help you' I picked up two suitcases that were extremely heavy.

I felt my fingers pop out of their sockets.

I raised them about an inch off the ground before I had to dump them unceremoniously back onto the floor.

'They are rather cumbersome' Pauline said casually as she departed the room wisely choosing to the carry the suitcases filled with feathers and bubbles. She left me to hoist the bags which must have been lined with lead and filled with bricks.

I chose the lighter of the two inexplicably heavy cases, the one that felt liked it might have contained a wet dead body and I dragged it out into the hall.

The front door was open and Carol waved merrily in at me from half way up the path. I didn't enjoy being seen in my dressing gown by my irritating neighbour, who until my mother-in-law rolled into town, I had enjoyed a silent relationship with.

A situation I was more than happy to maintain.

'Morning Carol' I said mustering up some strength to speak as I stepped out into the fresh morning air hauling the hefty bags along with me.

Carol's car was parked at the end of the drive with the boot open and Pauline had loaded up the first two suitcases presumably before they blew away in a stiff breeze.

'I might need some help with this one' I said as I tried to pull the stubborn vessel up to the car.

Together, Pauline and I heaved it into the car boot and we watched as the tail of the vehicle suddenly plunge lower towards the road.

Carol emerged from my house carrying the hat box.

She had the right idea.

'There's just one more in there, sweet. Better if you get it, you are much bigger framed than I am. I have to watched my knees these days too' Carol said.

You better not watch your knees too much you mad old bint you will fall flat on your slap-able face.

I flexed my arms and stretched my neck left and right readying my apparently big framed body for the final suitcase.

Once Pauline was loaded up, she kissed my cheek and told me to say goodbye to the children and to Noah from her. She waved her list of family and friends who needed to be telephoned to be told the sad news about Roger.

'You may have quite a full house, he was a popular man' Pauline said wistfully.

'I will call you this evening to discuss timings, menu plans for the wake and so on' Pauline said.

Menu plans?

The words lodged in my head.

As she got into the car I reassured Pauline that I would keep her up to speed with any new arrangements.

Menu Plans? What cocking menu plans?

Before I had a chance to think any further, Pauline was getting out of the car again she circumnavigated the vehicle and stood in front of me.

What? What was she doing now?

She took both of my hands and she squeezed them gently.

'Thank you so much for your kind hospitality. I know I haven't been the easiest house guest and I am shamefaced about last night. It was inexcusable. I assure you, it will never happen again. I am most grateful for your support'

I felt relieved that she was showing some self perception and I instantly felt less trepidation about the funeral and the wake.

Oh and the twating menu plans.

I was confident that although emotions would be running high we wouldn't have to manage another situation like last night.

Halle-cocking-lujah.

Chapter 27

The door bell rang.

Then the door was rapped and the sound shook me from a trance.

I was stood staring at Maisy's bedroom wall.

'Coming' I said absently before reversing away from the wall, without turning until it was absolutely necessary.

I spun on my heel and closed the bedroom door behind me. I bounded down the stairs and peered through the peephole.

A smiling, familiar face looked back, wide and distorted by the peephole glass. I pulled open the door and forced a grin.

'Hi Amber...come in' I said and ushered her through the door.

She busied herself putting her phone and keys into her bag.

'What's the matter?' She said pausing and looked at me curiously.

'Erm...nothing...well, what do you... erm...nothing. Why?'

Amber slipped of her denim jacket and hung it on the coat stand.

'Well, you have a look on your face like you have just found ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag'

I didn't laugh.

I would have ordinarily.

I just covered my mouth with my hand.

'Come upstairs' I then said and clutched her forearm.

Amber laughed and kicked off her glittery flip flops.

'Go upstairs eh? I do like you and all, sweet, but you're going through a tough patch with bereavement in the family, you're vulnerable...I would be taking advantage...At least make me a cuppa first'

Amber giggled.

'Shut up and come' I said seriously.

I turned and scuttled up the stairs, stopping briefly at the top to see if Amber was following. She slowly crept up the stairs behind me, her playfulness fading away with each step.

I stopped outside Maisy's room and turned around, holding the silver door handle tightly in my hand.

'You are freaking me out a little bit' Amber said in a low voice as she reached the landing.

'I'm freaked out too'

Amber's brow furrowed.

'Oh my God! He's not in there is he?' Amber said and pointed and wagged her finger at the bedroom door.

Now my brow furrowed.

'Who?' I said

'You know!' Amber said her voice louder now.

I looked blankly at her. She her arms folded defensively.

'You know!' She repeated earnestly.

I thought for a minute and then my brain suddenly understood what Amber was suggesting.

'No! You mean Roger? No, Christ's sake Amber! He's at the funeral parlour place'

Amber mouthed 'Oh'

'Yeah, we talked and talked about it, but decided that storing the dead body of an elderly grandfather in the bedroom of his grieving four year old granddaughter was probably not a good idea.

I rolled my eyes.

Amber was so ditsy.

Amber glared at me, clearly having not enjoyed my sarcastic retort.

I pushed open Maisy's bedroom door and walked into the room. Amber followed me in and we stood next to each other completely still and transfixed by the wall.

I looked at Amber, then back at the wall. Amber just stared ahead.

'What the F...?' She trailed off.

'Hmmm...exactly'

'Who did that?'

'Maisy of course' I said.

The wall had been freshly decorated in Barbie and Ken wallpaper, a week after we had moved into the house. The classic characters filled the walls dressed in different, colourful outfits. They took up varying poses, sat in a jeep, on bicycles, another with the pair in a speedboat. However, the new wallpaper with its bold colourful design had been completely defaced.

Each image of Barbie and her beloved Ken had had its eyes scrapped away or scribbled out with a black pen.

Many had crosses instead of eyes, showing they were dead. The paper hung in short strips from the wall where it had been torn.

Barbie waterskiing and Ken cooking on the barbeque were higher up the wall.

They had been spared the pen or the tearing but the remainder of the wall looked utterly macabre.

I'm not sure that 'dead' Barbie would have made it on to the Christmas top 10 toy list.

I sat on a chair and held my head in my hands. Amber continued to look at the wall for a minute before turning to look at me.

'Hey come on, she has been through a hell of a lot and she is telling you that she is not too young to be affected by what has happened' Amber said, surveying the wall.

I wiped the heavy tears that began to fall down my cheeks.

'She needs you to show her how to cope'

'But why has she done that!' I said with despair through my tears.

I threw my hands up.

Amber stroked my hair gently.

'She will have a reason, just talk to her'

'What if I can't help her? I'm not a counsellor or anything'

'No, but you are her mum. Kids are resilient, sweet. I'm not saying she will get over this in a day. She saw it happen and that must have rocked her safe little world but you can steady it, talk to her. Keep her in the loop, so she isn't totally baffled by the whole thing'

I nodded my head and sniffed, before I eased myself out of the chair and ran my hands through my hair. My lungs inhaled air until my chest swelled and I released it noisily in a long puff. A tidal wave of sadness smashed over me and I felt physically weakened by its force.

I heard the front door bang open suddenly and footfalls hurriedly advanced up the stairs. I tensed and grabbed Amber's arm.

'Shit, they are back!' I said. I dashed to the window and looked out.

'Who?'

'Noah...the kids. They went to get school shoes and pick up my order from Next.'

'Don't they deliver?' Amber said.

'Who?'

'Next'

'Yes, put I'm too tight to pay the postage so I get stuff sent to the store and I go and pick it up for free' I said hurriedly, watching the door.

'But you have to pay for petrol and then the parking... and your time spent doing it could be essentially a cost. You might as well pay the postage and it comes to your door'

'Eh?'

I wasn't listening. I was getting ready to be super mum and sort out my messed up little girl.

I stood looking at Amber dumbfounded as Maisy burst into the room.

'Mummy, look at my shoes! They are shiny and you can change the straps for parties or school. Look! Mummy!'

Maisy danced around the room. She seemed oblivious to the fact that I had discovered her first attempt at graffiti;the general defacing of an immaculately and freshly decorated wall.

Amber took Maisy's hands as she whirled and theatrically marvelled at the new and no doubt extortionately priced footwear which would last no more than a month of abuse in the school playground.

'They are fab, Maisy. All the girls will want them. Maybe I should buy some wholesale eh?!' Amber nodded at me enthusiastically.

I felt that my smile was half hearted as my attention was drawn back to the wall.

Why had she done it?

Everything was royally fucked up.

Ever since we moved to The Hill life was a God forsaken ride into shit creek.

Maisy sat on the floor and excitedly started to change the straps on her shoes to ones with glistening jewels. She glanced up at Amber and me, her grin broad and beaming.

Happy.

I knew what I was about to ask would kill her jubilant mood stone dead but this could not be ignored.

'Maise, what happened with the walls, honey?'

Maisy either didn't hear or didn't want to hear and continued to adjust the strips of Velcro and ran her fingers slowly over the patent leather.

'Maisy? I said, louder.

'Oh...I just don't like the eyes. They keep looking at me. It's scary' she said without looking up.

'Oh ok. But did you have to rip them and draw on them. That's not like you, Maisy'

I walked to the wall and pulled at a strip of paper that hung like a thin tongue until it tore free in my hand.

'I didn't want to wet the bed again...like a baby. I wet it when I'm scared. The wallpaper scared me so I thought I would stop the eyes looking at me so I wouldn't wet the bed. Get it?' Maisy asked curtly.

She was embarrassed to be talking about this in front of Amber so her tone verged on being obnoxious. She preferred her occasional bedwetting to be a family secret. Amber has a few secrets of her own I felt like saying to Maisy, to spare her blushes.

'Erm...yes... I...get it' I said adamant I wouldn't react to her rudeness.

'Still, we don't draw on the walls and we need to all look after the new house don't we. Daddy won't be very happy'

'He knows, he doesn't care' she said and flexed her feet back and forth.

I glanced at Amber, whose eyebrows raised.

'Oh, what did he say?' I said curiously, knowing that Noah would not be alright about this in a million years. He had slaved away trying to match all the patterns up on the wall, not wanting to stop until it was perfect. We had to go back to the shop and buy three extra rolls so the slightest imperfections could be rectified.

'He said he didn't want me to be scared or to think about grandad on the ghost train. I'm going to have a pink hearts and flowers wallpaper instead'.

Maisy stood up in her new shoes and proceeded to dance around the room once more.

'Daddy bought me a dress for the fru...furn neral...it's black with little white dots and a bow. It was one hundred pounds! He got Gracie one too but that was only eighty pounds. I got a necklace with a teddy on it and it's got real diamonds...like I'm a princess!

This was all getting too bizarre.

I needed a drink.

I rubbed by neck, the skin was clammy. My jaw ached from days of my teeth grinding together. I was not sure our new life there, on The Hill, was for me.

I was as tense as a porcupine in a balloon factory and not at all enjoying the aspirational living that had been promised.

Noah was bribing Maisy with luxury goods through guilt.

Most unlike him.

It was possible he hoped the dress and jewels would ward off the recent, peculiar behaviour. He perhaps feared that it was a slippery slope after scratching eyes off the wallpaper and wetting the bed; before long we would find Maisy rocking and murmuring in the corner or out skinning the neighbour's cat.

I had conjured up an image of our family, in the new house, doing wholesome things. We would grow roses, teach Maisy to speak Latin or how to play the harp.

I was not proficient in any of these talents, but I was conjuring.

I didn't want to spend my days trying to steer mad, elderly relatives away from the gin and fathom ways to counsel a grieving child.

Then again, did I really want to be constantly striving for middle class dream?

I like Waitrose as much as the next woman but getting to be that kind of person all seemed like a lot of hard work.

I liked the big house and being able to go for a pee in four different toilets still remained a treat. But I wasn't sure I want to be a yummy mummy.

I had heard them at the baby group and they pissed me off.

I hated Oscar bourbon biscuit and Oscar bourbon biscuit's repellent mother.

I wished for them only bad things.

Maisy was starting school the following week and I wasn't sure I would fit in with the earth mothers and the pushy mother's, who taxi their children to countless after school activities and sew nativity costumes lovingly by hand months in advance.

I didn't want to sew nativity outfits by hand.

I wanted to buy them the night before at Tesco.

Chapter 28

It was 6:47 am.

The shopping delivery would be there between 8am-10am, leaving plenty of time to make the buffet food for the wake. Amber and Rufus were coming to help at 11am and they were bringing the big baking trays and the cling film. Pauline had phoned to say that she thought there would be thirty or forty people attending the funeral from the list she had drawn up. Corina's mobile phone had been switched off for two days, but I had received a text, in response to my asking about how many people she had invited, which read

15 4 wake grub. C X

Fifteen?! That must be the entire circus.

Funfair, not circus.

Funfair.

I envisaged her mourners striding up the road on stilts, waving merrily to Carol and pervy milkman and then having to duck to get through our front door.

Or turning up in brightly painted cars, with honking horns and doors that falling off when they parked.

I wasn't at all comfortable catering for over fifty-five guests. I struggled cooking roast dinner for four at Christmas and Aunt Bessie did most of that.

Amber would be there and Rufus was apparently a dab hand in the kitchen. We would have it all ready before the funeral and then there would be a gap, when Noah would shepherd people to the pub down the road. This would provide an opportunity for the buffet committee to hotfoot it back to the house, shove everything in the oven and drink copious amounts of nerve settling wine.

The funeral was at 2pm, so we needed to leave for the crematorium at 1:30pm. I needed to start getting ready no later than 12:30pm.That left only one hour and thirty minutes of assisted cooking time.

Bugger, I anxiously chewed my lip. That would be cutting it fine.

Relax and breathe and breathe and breathe.

It was 10:11am.

Over a period of an hour, I had moved from peering casually out of the front window, anticipating the arrival of the shopping delivery van, whilst clutching a cup of strong coffee, to pacing angrily the length of the driveway in my blue striped apron.

I had an oven mitt over my shoulder and a fish slice in my hand.

To onlookers I imagine I looked quite deranged.

'Not here yet?' Noah called through the open front door

He was half dressed, in a white shirt, black boxer shorts and dress socks pulled tight up his calves.

'Yes, it came an hour ago, look at the beautiful spread' I gestured with my arms theatrically at the non-existent food.

'Tuck in, why don't you!' I said snappily.

His face dropped and I felt like such a bitch.

It was the day of his Dad's funeral and I was yelling at him.

'I'm so sorry, ignore me. I'm just freaking out a little because the food is late'

'Want me to just go into town and just buy the stuff?' He said kindly which made my status as bitch escalate to mega-bitch.

'No thanks, you won't be able to get the same stuff. I used that little independent supermarket as they sell really funky and different foods. Back to the big chains from now on, at least they get the food to you on time. It will be here in a minute. I will come in and chill out...promise. Sorry'

He smiled. I smiled.

I was calm.

I wasn't actually calm but I would act calm.

It was 11:04am.

The door knocker rapped.

Thank the fucking food bearing lord.

My heart leapt as I dashed towards the door which separated me from my unforgivably late shopping. I had spent the previous half an hour preparing my embittered speech for the lazy driver with his 'Manana' attitude, who had caused me deplorable distress through his tardiness.

How dare he put me through that?

On that day, the day we buried Roger and were forced to feed his grieving loved ones be they Christians or lion tamers or otherwise.

I pulled back the door dramatically.

'About bloody time!' I said loudly, before I looked up.

Amber and Rufus stood on the doorstep and appeared understandably startled.

Rufus was laden with cooking utensils. Amber held a 'bag for life' full of trays.

Max gurgled in the pushchair.

Amber's brow furrowed and Rufus's arm shifted and he wriggled to steady the stack of pots cradled in his arms.

'Er...hi...sorry...I think we are only a few minutes late. I couldn't find the cling film' Amber said apologetically.

I laughed in a vaguely manic way and helped them through the door.

Aggressive one minute, grinning like a loon the next.

Rufus eyed me suspiciously.

As well he should.

'Sorry folks, I thought you were the food' I rambled before leading them through the door. Amber carried Max into the kitchen and placed him on the play mat in the corner with Gracie. I glanced out of the French windows. Maisy was sat on the grass by the hedge, pulling daisies from the ground.

'Is it not here yet? The food?' Amber said, her hands planted on her hips.

'No, not yet, but its fine. I'm chilled. I'm chill-axing. I am cool. I'm fine. Not a care in the world' I whistled a tune.

'Do you need wine?' Amber said, tilting her head to the side sympathetically.

'Yes, a large one'

Amber pulled open the fridge that was void of buffet food but bountiful with wine.

At 11:47am, the reversing siren of the shopping delivery van sounded outside.

I thrust my third large glass of wine into Amber's hand and sprinted down the hallway and out up the drive.

The delivery driver grinned at me.

'You're keen love! And lucky too, you were first on my list and I've got here extra early for ya' He said with a wink.

I stared at him.

He obviously wanted to be punched.

He wanted to be punched right in the centre of his smug little face.

He handed me two carrier bags of shopping, one filled with miniature toad in the holes and another loaded with miniature salmon and hollandaise tarts.

I hugged the bags affectionately to my chest.

'You are kidding about being early aren't you? I was about to phone your superior! ' I said.

His chipper tone simmered.

'First on my list, you are' He said again and looked affronted at my suggestion that he was late.

'You were supposed to be here between eight and ten. It's nearly twelve O'clock.'

I realised I was shouting quite loud at the man.

'No, no, that's not right. Look...between twelve and two. It says it here, sweet cheeks. I'm ten minutes early, Lovey'

'I'm not your sweet cheeks or your lovey' I said firmly.

The delivery driver held out a printed invoice. I snatched it from him and scanned the page to find my name. Beside my name it read '12pm-2pm'.

How the bollocks had that happened?

I had definitely selected the right time for delivery.

Hadn't I?

Yes, I'm sure I had.

It must be their bloody error.

I would be looking for compensation for this.

I thrust back the cursed page into his hand angrily.

He shrugged his shoulders, huffed, and then together we carried the shopping bags to the front door in silence.

'Enjoy the rest of your day!' The man dared to say as he walked around the front of his van to leave.

'If you must know, we are burying my father-in-law' I said ironically hoping to make him feel bad.

'He is dead, isn't he?... Looks like he had a lucky escape from you, poor bugger' I heard him mutter as he hauled himself onto the driver's seat. He nodded to me and feigned a smile, as the van pulled away.

I wished for him only bad things.

It was 12:33pm.

I had fought back the tears as I emptied the shopping bags. It soon became clear that the weights of some of the shopping items, I had ordered conflicted significantly with the weights, I believed I had tick boxed on the website. Panic stricken, I ripped the plastic lid from tiniest packet of ham. I had intended that ham to fill sandwiches for fifty people, only to discover one piece of meat folded with origami precision a zillion times, into the miniscule package. Shit.

Then, I scanned the invoice and identified the dreaded replaced items. This would be the last time I used a small time supermarket for delivery.

I would join Waitrose's patronage. I didn't care I had read that the sort of people that shop their made comments like;

We have to shop here because Isabella's pony will not consider eating Asda value straw.

I read the invoice carefully.

The shop apologised for being out of stock on some of the foods I had ordered.

So, instead of 12 toilet rolls, there was a pack of 32 bumper pack newborn nappies. As substitute for a case of Bordeaux wine there was a three pack of sweet corn. Finally, the jumbo box of dishwasher tablets had been replaced with a 16 blister pack of Anadin.

Now, those I needed.

1:11pm. The sandwiches were made, the salad was prepared and in bowls and the Anadin taken. The cold meats were plated and the cakes were assembled on the borrowed-from-Carol cake stand. Noah had dashed to the shop to replace the replacements when he had seen my lip wobble and a meltdown loom on the horizon. We had all achieved an awful lot in a short amount of time.

Rufus had negotiated all of the frozen food into the freezer, laid the buffet table and had kept my wine glass topped up.

I loved him. He was very tall, with fashionably long, chocolate coloured hair which fell thick and lustrous from his head. He wore a designer shirt with pencil thin blue stripes, tucked into indigo coloured jeans that looked expensive. When he spoke, he was unmistakably a public school boy. He was gentle, polite and witty.

If I had had a son, I would have wanted one like him.

Amber was obviously very proud of him and I caught her looking at him as he diced tomatoes. A glow spread across her face. She must miss having Rufus around, especially with her husband away so much of the time.

When all this was over, I vowed to speak to Amber about everything that had happened to her again and get to know Rufus. The poor boy had been catapulted into my crazy, morbid world as head chef in the most ill equipped kitchen known to man.

I also wanted to see how Amber and I could move the Ebay business forward and make some serious money.

However, I had to stick to my list.

Number 1 - Cremate Roger.

Number 2- Everything else.

Time had marched on, so I left my helpers to finish off and I dashed upstairs to get ready. Amber had kindly offered to look after the girls and get them into their smart dresses for the wake, whilst we were at the funeral.

Noah and I had asked Maisy if she wanted to go to the service, but she had said no. We were relieved.

It was 1.27pm. Time to go. My adrenaline pumped through my body and I had trouble walking out to the car.

It could have been the wine. No, it must have been adrenaline.

I was wearing a black shift dress that came just above the knee, with a silver silk scarf tied elegantly around my neck. I had opted for my grey court shoes with the chunky heels and my Marc Jacob handbag. Noah had looked at me and kissed me gently.

'You look amazing'

'Thanks' I said coyly, running my hand underneath my freshly curled hair.

I cradled my hands in his, my eyes filling with tears.

'Don't cry you'll get panda eyes' He said with a smile and cupped my chin.

'Come on, let's do this' He added and pulled open the car door for me and I got in, almost gracefully.

The car eased slowly up the long driveway to the crematorium. I pulled down the sun visor and squinted into the little mirror. Mascara had gathered in the corners of my eyes so I poked it away with my painted finger nail. I ruffled my hair and looked at Noah. He had been surprisingly calm all morning and it had been I who had been flitting around like a smack addict without a fix.

Now, he was tense. He flexed his fingers around the steering wheel and repositioned himself in his seat. I put my hand on his knee and squeezed. He gave me a half hearted smile before his face dropped. We both fixed our attention on the large huddle of people gathered at the crematorium doors, up ahead. We parked and walked hand in hand to say goodbye to his dad.

Chapter 30

I had been to lots of cremations; they rarely differed, except when it had been my mum's funeral. I had run sobbing from the building during my sister Zara's moving speech, followed swiftly by my dad who kindly absorbed a lifetime of tears into the shoulder of his suit.

He squeezed me like he had done when I was a young girl and had been told I hadn't been picked as carnival queen and Kacey Westerner from the year below me had.

We all knew it was because her mum was shagging the man who drove the carnival float. It had still been impossible to bear.

Despair struck again when I was dumped by Henry Portland, who said he wanted to go out with Diana Saxon because she had bigger tits.

At my mum's funeral, the vicar had looked panic stricken when after ten minutes my dad and I still hadn't come back inside the chapel and the next poor sod for the oven was already parked up outside.

Noah and his two cousins assisted the funeral director's staff in carrying Roger's coffin into the crematorium.

The mourners parted.

Pauline dressed in black with a matching black hat and net veil sniffed and rubbed at her crimson nose with a crumpled tissue. Her sister, June, put an arm around her before she too began to crumble and needed both hands to rummage in her bag for a Kleenex. There were lots of people I didn't recognise stood with Pauline. One man gave me a creepy 'There, there' smile and rubbed my arm. I physically recoiled at his touch, which I think he felt because he pulled away suddenly.

'God rest his soul'. He said solemnly.

Pauline's crowd were made up of family, her church friends and Roger's friend's from the pub and the allotment. A clutch of people stood at the back, I guessed were from Roger's workplace because a few of them had security badges around their necks. They must have come straight from the office.

However, all eyes were on the other side of the parted sea of condolers. It was Corina and her group of guests that were drawing everyone's attention.

I actually heard it whispered behind me 'Are they at the right funeral?'

Oh yes, they were at the right funeral.

Corina had not opted for waterproof mascara yet unwisely had opted for lots and lots of mascara. The black streaky tears ran richly and thick down her cheeks. One daub brushed up to her ear, where she had wiped the salty droplets with her hands. She was wearing black crushed velvet, floor length dress, with batwing sleeves. Around her waist, a thick belt was wrapped held together by a silver skull shaped buckle. Her neck chain sported a turquoise heart shaped pendant and her hair stood wild and red. A woman was comforting her.

This woman was nothing like Noah's auntie June who was wearing a navy knitted twin set and a string of yellowing pearls around her neck.

The woman comforting Corina appeared to be wearing a man's grey suit, curiously similar to the one we had picked out for Roger to wear in the coffin.

For a moment an image flashed into my head of a naked Roger lying in the wooden box parading past our eyes.

The woman was large with a huge chest that pushed out against the white shirt she was wearing. Her dyed red hair was cropped around her ears and her face was mannish and round. Her trousers were too long and flapped over the top of her Doc Marten boots as she walked. She had a bowler hat placed atop her head.

It was like she had got up that morning and had decided to dress like a banker from the 1960's.

Behind the suited women, lingered three men. They looked over Team Pauline from Team Corina, awkwardly. One of the men was wearing a pork pie hat and a white t-shirt with I am the chilli sauce to your kebab printed across the front.

I looked up from reading the irksome words on his chest and he gave me a wink and licked his lips.

This could have been an attempt at being seductive. I wasn't sure.

Mostly it was despicable.

Thinking on, I decided it was more likely his gesture was not lewd but merely saying:

Chin up. Ok, so your father in law is dead, your mother-in-law is a drunk and your kid has gone crazy, but doesn't my t shirt make you chuckle

Either way it made me shudder and I couldn't help but sneer at him.

I knew it was inappropriate to sneer at people at funerals.

Then again, I'm sure the rule book would specify that men should keep their tongues in their mouths and their winking eyes open.

I studied the man as he turned to comfort Corina. His jeans hung low on his narrow, feminine hips and oily handprints stained the denim on each leg. The two other men were dressed the same except one had a blue t-shirt on and the other wore red. Both wore a tie despite each lacking a collar.

They both held their hands on their hearts and bowed their heads as Roger went by. Butch banker woman clutched Corina around her shoulders as we followed the coffin into the crematorium.

They were plain odd.

I paused for a moment and mentally chastised myself for being so judgemental and silently scathing. Maybe the new house and life on The Hill was turning me into one of them.

Was I becoming a hoity, middle class mother who looked down her nose at anyone different?

Perhaps it was inevitable I should end up like that.

Note to self, change self, with immediate action.

We all filtered into the crematorium and everyone looked purposefully for a seat. I could see people struggling to determine which row they should sit in according to there level of relationship with the deceased.

Near the front, it was family or very good friends.

You went to the back if you owned the newsagent where Roger used to buy his Daily Mail or if you sold him a car in 1989.

Corina marched to the front of the room followed by her entourage.

She stood sobbing in front of the coffin which was surrounded by enormous marrows and photos of family.

Finally, she was led to a seat in the front row by Mrs Banker Bowler Hat. I took my seat on the front row too but on the opposite side of the aisle to Corina.

Noah was behind me talking to mourners as they came in and sat down, shaking hands and patting shoulders. I cast a glance sideways and saw Kebab t-shirt man taking a photo of the coffin on his phone. I was pretty sure that taking pictures of the deceased was up there on the list of inappropriate things to do at a funeral.

This, alongside other things on the list such as eating popcorn, checking in on Facebook or gasping as the coffin make its way through the curtains before announcing;

'Bleeding hell! That reminds me! I think I left the oven on!'

The funeral went well. It was a miracle, for which we were all thankful.

There were lots of tears and the generous sharing of tissues.

People read and raised a smile, and then more tears came.

Pauline sat next to Noah, her hand in his.

Mother and son.

My chest ached with longing for a moment like that.

To hold my own mum's hand again, to share her warmth and feel her soft skin.

Then that was it, I was sobbing. I had held it in all day and half way through Lord of All Hopefulness, I began to cry uncontrollably.

More embarrassingly with such ferocious noise that some of the congregation actually stopped singing to listen to me.

Noah handed me more tissues than necessary and gave me a look, which although gentle and kind, said 'I'm sorry you are sad, but could you not snort like a pig and breathe like you're having an asthma attack'

I gained control and mouthed the rest of the hymn, counting the marrows as a distraction from my sad thoughts.

We all gathered outside, after the service, admiring the flowers and wreaths for Roger, which would by the end of the day be upturned in an industrial wheelie bin. There were hundreds of pounds of blooms ready ditched in their prime. I had thought a grave would have been nice so that the flowers could have been placed upon it as a tribute. Corina obviously did not want the floral displays to go to waste and set about loading them into her car, mumbling to herself that she would make good use of them if no one was going to take them.

Pauline looked horrified as Kebab t-shirt retrieved the bouquet of summer flowers she had bought from the display and asked Corina if she wanted it in the boot of the car or on the backseat.

Pauline strode boldly up to him and snatched the flowers from his grasp.

'How dare you!' She snarled before she turned on her heel and trotted back to Auntie June who if her face had been a word, it would have read 'disgusted'.

Noah walked over to where I stood and gave a strained smile and sighed heavily.

'Went ok' He said bleakly.

'Yes, a good send off. How are you bearing up?'

'I'm alright. How about you? One minute you were fine and next...well ...'He said,

I knew he was wondering why I hadn't shed a tear for his dear old dad since his demise but suddenly I break down mid-hymn. I didn't have the gall to tell him that it wasn't his dad dying that had made me sad.

I just missed my mum so much.

The assembly of mourners continued to mingle. They were animated in conversation and relieved that the mood had lightened a little. I watched and it seemed that our party had grown considerably. Then I realised that the family and friends of the old lady cremated after Roger had joined our throng and were stood among us, like one.

I didn't know where our lot ended and the next lot began.

I had visions of them all coming back to the house and us not only catering for our wake guests but those of the late Nellie Lillcock, died peacefully age 87, as well.

I grabbed Noah's arm, pulling him away from a conversation with Roger's old golfing partner about whether Colonel Gaddaffi was clinically insane.

'I need to go and get the food started so I'm going home now. Right, as planned, get everyone to go to the Red Lion for a couple, to give us some time to sort everything out before you arrive.'

'Ok, no problem' Noah said.

'Only bring our lot, if they knew Nellie Lillcock, they aren't coming in.'

Noah laughed gently and gave me a kiss.

'Off you go and good luck!'

Ignoring the irony in his voice, I dashed for the car and made the ten minute journey home in four minutes.

Going those speeds on the country lanes, I was certain to be the next one in a box.

But hey, no time for that, there were melons to ball.

Chapter 31

I bounded up the driveway and shoved my key into the lock. Opening our door I went into the hall.

The house was silent.

I had left Amber with two young children, why was the house silent?

'Amber?' I hung up my cardigan.

No answer.

'Amber!' I walked into the kitchen imagining that they must be in the garden and therefore not able to hear me shouting.

I went out of the French doors onto the lawn and I saw Amber struggling down the wooden steps from the tree house. She lost her footing and missed the last step, letting out a yelp.

She turned around and saw me and yelped again.

Her face froze.

'Everything alright here?' I said slowly, starting to wonder exactly what was going on.

'How was the funeral?' Amber said rather more zealously than the occasion warranted.

She had the look of crazy person who was torn between shooting you between the eyes or just licking your face.

Something was going on.

Amber landed on the lawn and walked over to me. She was scanning the garden as she stepped cautiously forward.

'Yeah, good send off. Poor sod. Where are Maisy and Gracie?'

I brushed my hair that had caught in my sticky lip gloss away with my fingers.

Where were the kids?

I watched Amber as she grew increasingly agitated. Her face glistened with sweat and her top was damp under the arms.

'Gracie...well, Gracie is having a nap.' Amber chewed her nail.

'And Maisy...'

I reached down and picked up one-armed Annie who was swaddled in my new tea towel. Amber was stood right in front of me. Her eyes darted from side to side and she was hugging herself tightly with her arms. She shifted from one foot to the other nervously.

'Well, we were playing a game'

'Oh right... what game?'

'Erm...hide and seek' Amber said in a low voice.

'Ok' I said as I observed Amber's increasingly anxious body language.

Amber's face crumbled and tears filled her eyes.

'I can't find her! I've been looking for forty five minutes! Rufus is pushing Max up and down the street looking for her. I don't think she went out of the house, how could she the door handle is too high... she would have had to have stood on a chair. Do you think she got a chair?! Would she do that?! Oh my God I'm so sorry. '

I had to stay composed.

This day was sent to test me.

Maisy was playing a game, so she would still be in the house. She had never gone out before.

Why now?

She had been acting strange, the whole wallpaper debacle.

What if she couldn't cope?

Had I missed the warning signs and she had run away?

Maybe she had been abducted?

As I focused on staying calm, images of Maisy in the toilets of a P&O ferry having her hair cut and dyed by Herr and Frau Muller, who couldn't have a child of their own so stole our one.

Stole her from a hide and seek game, on the day of her Grandad's funeral, so they could raise her as little Claudia Muller from Bremen.

Maisy would be no good at being German. She didn't like sausages.

Amber stood anxiously chewing her lip. I held my forehead in thought.

'Right, let's go back in and check each room in turn' I marched towards the house.

'I've done it, over and over' Amber said hurriedly following me.

'You have a fresh pair of eyes now and she might hear my voice and come out' I turned to her as she rubbed tears from her cheeks but new ones quickly replaced the ones she had wiped.

Amber nodded and we went quickly inside to search.

We opened cupboards and closets and as we grew more desperate, the drawers. We looked under beds and behind curtains. All the while we called out her name, only succeeding in waking up Gracie who screamed bloody murder. The door went and I squealed with delight praying it was Maisy coming in.

However, it was Rufus holding Max at the foot of the stairs.

He was not sporting victorious 'I've found her' face.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

We went back outside and hunted through the sheds, the garage and behind trees. With terror in my heart, we checked the little stream, but nothing.

'Where the hell is she!' I was finally succumbing to panic, my stomach knotted and I noticed I was gasping for breath.

'I'm so, so sorry. I should never have played but she really wanted to and under the circumstances, I found it really hard to say no' Amber ran her hands into the front of her hair and tugged fistfuls of the thick dark strands.

I nodded and sighed.

'She was crap at hiding at first. She hid under the same sofa cushion for the first four rounds. I told her to try and find a place where her feet and head didn't stick out'

'So she did' Rufus said

We went inside and gathered in the kitchen.

The door bell rang.

Maybe a neighbour has found her and has brought her home. My heart leapt.

I ran to the door and opened it.

There stood Yvonne and Harold, Pauline and Roger's old Bridge team. They had come from the funeral.

'Hello dear, so sorry for your loss' Yvonne said.

'Shit!' I said.

I watched horror spread across Yvonne's face and Harold shot me a look of distaste.

'Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean that. Do come in' I said immediately.

The guests were arriving. I wasn't ready from them yet.

Fuck it, I thought, but thankfully didn't say.

I ushered Yvonne and Harold into the lounge and Rufus made them a cup of tea.

'Is everyone else at the pub? I tried to sound casual, like I didn't want to just scream there and then into their bridge playing faces.

'Yes, but they were just finishing up. They should all be arriving any moment' Harold said and craned to look out of the window.

'Do you need any help with the food, love?' Yvonne said.

'Fuck it' I said breathily. They would all be here any minute, Maisy was still missing, not one tartlet had felt the heat of the oven yet and I had developed Tourettes.

'Pardon?!' Harold said.

'Cook it. I said 'Cook it'. All I've got to do with the food is cook it. It's all fine. Thanks for offering' I left the room hastily before I let rip with any more choice expletives.

I heard Yvonne whisper to Harold 'Pauline warned us that she was a bit...you know' as I scuttled out.

Sod them.

Amber was still wiping away tears when I found her under our bed for the fifth time looking for Maisy.

I felt sure she would turn up.

She had never left the house without an adult before. She was frightened of being on her own.

'Everyone is on their way back' I said, scanning the room for possible hiding places.

'Rufus has put everything in the oven, it's nearly done, then the next batch can...'

Amber completely lost the plot and slumped onto the floor with just her legs poking out from beneath the bed.

'Come on, we'll find her.' I said kneeling and patted her calf. Amber sighed and wriggled out from her hiding place.

Now, we just needed Maisy to wriggle out from hers.

The door bell rang.

I trotted downstairs breathlessly, glancing into the kitchen. Rufus was wearing Noah's naked woman apron, which had a picture of a topless Playboy Bunny style girl with a fig leaf covering the privates. It was a gift I had bought for him but he'd never used it.

Rufus looked funny in it and his eyes twinkled as he blew raspberries at Gracie and Max who were sat in the play pen.

I pulled open the door and at least twenty guests were stood on the driveway, looking back at me.

'Come in, welcome!' I sounded like Brian Blessed, my voice booming at the crowd.

I ushered people into the hallway, where they took off their hats and jackets.

I felt like the cloakroom girl at a nightclub as I was handed far too many garments to be hung on the hooks of our coat stand.

The crowd dispersed into the lounge and dining room. I grabbed arms full of jackets and cardigans and flung them unceremoniously onto the floor of the under stairs cupboard. The bottom jacket was dangerously close to a tin of opened blue Farrow and Ball paint, bought, opened and instantly disliked. Also, it was unfortunately in contact with a pair of hiking boots, which may or may not have trodden in a dog turd. I slammed the door shut and went to greet the guests.

Before I reached the lounge the key turned in the lock and Noah, Pauline and Auntie June came in. Pauline and June had red, tear stained faces and they gloomily took off their matching M&S wool full length coats. It was summer for crying out loud. I was dripping in sweat. I took them feeling sure no more coats would fit under the stairs and threw them in the downstairs loo.

'Hi, love' Noah said kissing me softly. 'Something smells good'

Something did smell good, but that was sadly not my doing.

'Rufus is in the kitchen with the babies and he's just cooking the last of the buffet food'

June nodded and smiled.

'Where is my little Maisy? I bet she has grown so much since I last saw her'

I bit my lip.

'She is a having a funny five minutes, I think it's all the people. She is hiding upstairs but I'm sure she will get over it and come down'

Please do that Maisy. If I said it maybe it would come true.

'I'll go and get her. I want her to meet my great uncle Frank, he does magic tricks and stuff'. Noah said and moved to the foot of the stairs

'Erm, well...I'm not sure it is the time and the place for magic tricks, Noah.'

Noah shot me a confused look.

'Ok, well, I'll just go and bring her down. She is probably hungry. Eats like a horse'. He said.

I smiled weakly.

Pauline and June chuckled.

'Alright, well, I'll come with you. Need to pop up and get another bottle opener.' Noah said.

'Pauline, June, do go into the lounge. All the drinks are in there please help your self to nibbles.'

I waited for them to leave so I was certain they would not follow me.

I can't do this.

Noah turned to go upstairs, his hand on the banister.

'Stop, hang on!' I grabbed his arm and I could see him studying my face.

'Is something wrong, you seem a bit...well...you know' He said

'Well, it seems everyone thinks I'm a bit...'you know'' I said crossly.

'What?' Noah frowned. He looked puzzled.

'Nothing, look, no time. Amber was playing hide and seek with Maisy and she lost her'

'Lost her? Lost her how?' he said loudly.

I held my finger to my mouth and shushed him.

'Amber hasn't seen her for over an hour and we have checked the house and garden from top to bottom. She has lost it big time and is performing what can only be described as a 'sob and search' through the upstairs bedrooms.

The door bell rang.

We looked at each other.

Noah opened the door and escorted ten new guests, all of retirement age, to the lounge and pointed to the drinks table.

'Help yourself!' He pointed to the selection of bottles and glasses on trays.

He closed the door on the crowded room and turned to me.

'She wouldn't leave the house... surely she would have come out after this amount of time. She is hopeless at that game anyway.'

'Pretty damn good this time though, eh?' I said.

I drummed my fingers nervously on the heavy oak banister.

'I think Amber should come and chill out in the kitchen with Rufus. He could use the help and I'll get her a glass of wine. We can start looking again'

'Shouldn't we think about calling the...' Noah trailed off.

'No' I interrupted 'She has got to be here...not off with bloody Herr and Frau Muller' I said as I bounded up the stairs. Noah was hot on my heels.

As I knelt pulling out towels and bedding from the airing cupboard, I felt a little tap on my shoulder.

'Maisy!' I squealed as I turned. Pauline's puzzled face loomed back at me.

My whole body felt deflated.

'Everything alright dear, I wondered what had happened to you and Noah. The food is delicious; your friends have done sterling work'

I nodded and smiled.

'What are you doing?' Pauline said. I hurriedly restacked a pile of towels that no matter how hard I tried kept toppling over like poorly assembled Jenga tower.

I wondered if I should tell her.

Would she just exacerbate matters, the way she did with all other matters?

Well, the situation couldn't be any worse.

'Amber...my friend...downstairs...was playing hide and seek with Maisy, whilst we were at the funeral. Well, the thing is, we can't find Maisy'

'Oh my' Pauline said and covered her mouth with her hand.

'We have searched the house top to bottom, but still no sign'

'Do you think she has been taken and sold, like that Madelaine McCann?'

'No, no I don't Pauline...I think she is still in the house. And they still don't know what happened to Madelaine McCann.'

'It's obvious though, isn't it? Pretty girl like that, taken whilst her parents weren't watching her'

I ignored her presumptuous and scaremongering comment.

'Anyway, Noah and I are looking for her'

'Shall I help?' Pauline enquired.

A Trojan horse, I feared.

'Erm, well, we need someone to help downstairs. If you could play host whilst Noah and I are looking for Maisy'

Pauline chuckled.

'They are all fine downstairs, nattering away about trivia. I'll help. Where are you looking next?'

I pointed to the spare room.

'Right, thanks Pauline. I'm going to head back outside again as that's where they were playing before Maisy went missing'

Pauline teetered down the landing in her patent heeled shoes.

Maybe she could be some help after all.

I wandered through the gaggle of guests, many of whom had sunk a few drinks and were becoming animated in their conversations.

I was halted in my tracks by Clive and Barbara who lived next door to Pauline.

'Hello, dear. Don't you look well? Not got another baby on the way, have you?'

'No, why?' I said.

Clive and Barbara gave each other a look.

'No, no. Little Gracie is still a baby. I don't think we are ready to extend the family just yet' I said with a feigned laugh.

Bugger off Clive and Barbara.

'Oh yes, we haven't seen Gracie since she was newborn. And little Maisy? Where is she?' Barbara said.

'Goodness knows!' I guffawed, dramatically before eyeing the bustling room.

'Never stays in one place for long'

Actually, she had stayed in one place, for too bloody long.

I dipped away and out through the side door into the garden. Noah was in the garage, ransacking the cupboards, a thin wisp of smoke emanated from the end of his cigarette.

'No joy?' I said, startling him. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth and stamped it out hurriedly. His face flushed red.

'I know you smoke babe. It's alright'

'Not all the time' He said defensively. 'I don't smoke hardly at all'

'Just in a crisis' I said.

The corner of his mouth turned up.

'Your mum is helping to look' I said, swiftly changing the subject.

'Really? I thought we were keeping this on the down low'

'We were but she found me emptying the contents of the airing cupboard onto the landing floor. The truth was the only explanation for doing that in the middle of her husband's wake, when the house was full of guests, that didn't make me look screwy'

I lifted a tarpaulin and looked underneath.

'And my two, poor, friends... who were supposed to be just lending a hand with the food, have fully catered the whole bloody occasion.' I said.

'Do you think we should call the police?' Noah said slamming shut a big metal box full of tools.

'Yeah, I think we should. It's been a long time'.

I felt sick.

We went inside to make the call.

Guests had started to move into the kitchen, some were outside sat on the patio furniture or stood admiring the flower bed.

Under normal circumstances, I'd be out there, boasting about how I'd grown everything from seed, glowing with pride. As it was, I was stood in the hallway with Noah waiting for the police to arrive. We knew that their arrival at the wake would generate panic but what else could we do. It had been nearly two hours since Maisy was last seen.

Noah went and got two large glasses of wine which we both drank like desert wanderers at a long awaited oasis.

'When they arrive... Maybe try and keep them in the hallway, so then people in the dining room, kitchen and garden probably wont see.' I said assertively. I rubbed my sweaty hands on my hips.

'Perhaps we should just tell everyone and get them all looking. We could find her in no time.' Noah said

'No, it would ruin the occasion and people would start to place blame. Most of them are half cut now anyway. I know she can't be far away. I'm sure ringing the police is an overreaction. They will probably say that she has to have been missing for longer before they will look for her'.

Noah rubbed his head.

'What a shit day'.

It was, a very shit day.

The doorbell rang.

My throat contracted nervously, as Noah opened the door slowly.

He stood there silently for a moment. I couldn't see the policemen, as Noah was blocking my view.

'Yes?' He said hesitantly.

'Hello...oh... I think we have got the wrong house' a female voice said softly.

'Oh. Who are you looking for?' Noah said coolly.

'Erm...Amber. I went to her house, Number 13 but the neighbour said she was here?' The voice was shaky.

Who was it?

'I have this letter and your address is on it...' the woman's voice said.

'Ah, ok. You do have the right place. She's here. She's in the kitchen... with Max...and Rufus' Noah gestured behind him with his hand.

Silence.

'Would it be alright to see her?' A man's voice sounded this time, deep and familiar.

'Well, I'll go and ask her. Who shall I say is here?'

I suddenly realised who it was and my chest tightened.

I couldn't be, not right now.

I was delighted and mortified at the same time and it made my head spin.

I stepped forward quickly and pulled back the door.

Two faces looked at me. Noah stood looking puzzled.

'Amber's mum' I said to him.

'Oh ok' He said, slowly.

'Hello. Hi Riley' I greeted them with a smile.

'I got your letter' Amber's mum said. Her voice wavered. She fiddled with the heavy gold chain around her neck.

'Oh...good' I had no idea what else to say.

'Why don't you both come in?' Noah said. 'I'm afraid we have a full house at the moment. It was my father's funeral today and this is his wake.'

'Oh! I am sorry. Look we can come back another time...' Amber's mum pulled back from the door and she started to turn.

'No!' I said.

It had taken this long to get Amber's mother here, I wasn't about to let her slip the net, especially when she seemed like she might want to patch things up.

'Come with me, I'll show you where Amber is'

I led them into the kitchen, knowing that, despite my missing four year old, amazing things might happen today. This could be a great day, just formally know as, shit day.

The doorbell rang.

It must be the police this time. I closed the kitchen door on Amber and her family, having enjoyed less than a minute, playing Cilla Black, reuniting families. Noah disappeared back through the throng of guests. The drink had certainly combated the solemnity of the occasion and they were beginning to sound like rowdy football fans. I opened the front door and Corina stumbled through it, reeking of sherry. She was alone, her friends from the funeral, must have headed back to the fairground or were still in the pub.

'I need to speak to Pauline!' Corina slurred and held the wall for support.

'Alright, she's upstairs. Look, why don't I get you a coffee first. You look a bit worse for wear. Might help you...feel more, you know...or at least less...you know'.

First Pauline, now Corina.

'I want to make amends' Corina said falling against the bureau then the hall wall again. Her nails, like talons, clawing my Laura Ashley wallpaper '

'We both loved him and we both lost him. We should unite in our grief, not stand divided. I know he loved her, he told me as much.'

She began to sob, her lips pulled back over her brown teeth.

I helped Corina struggle out of her long velvet jacket, which look like it was two sizes too small. She emptied her pockets onto the side table.

'Corina, listen' I said ' I am glad you want to smooth things out but we are having a bit of a situation here and you turning up...pissed... is not helping matters.'

Corina nodded, her head slumped forward as if her neck had turned to jelly.

'Maisy is missing'

Corina gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth. I wasn't sure if she was shocked at the news of the missing child or whether she was about to hurl up what must be, judging by her state, possibly a litre of sherry.

I told Corina to come upstairs with me, she could lie on my bed and I would bring her water and a strong coffee.

As we ascended the stairs, Corina was in front of me, staggering precariously from one step to the next. I feared she would miss her footing, tumble backwards and squash my sorry form to mulch. Given how this day was going, that may have been a blessing in disguise.

Pauline's voice sounded from the spare bedroom.

She was singing.

Great.

I had two mad old ladies to deal with.

Roger, if you weren't already dead, I would kill you.

Actually, a worse fate would be to lock in a room with the pair of them.

'Pauline' I said from the landing.

'Lavenders blue dilly dilly, lavenders green...'

Pauline had clearly lost the plot, planet mental could welcome a new inhabitant,

'Did you have that song when you were my age?' A little voice said.

Maisy!

I pushed Corina out of the way and she slumped onto the floor, groaning. I dashed along the landing and into the spare room. There was Maisy nestled in the crook of Pauline's arm, her hair dishevelled, the side of her face was red and had a criss cross pattern indented in her cheek.

'Oh my God, Maisy, where have you been?!'

'No need to blaspheme, dear' Pauline tutted and tightened her hugging arm around my little girl.

'Why didn't you tell me you had found her, for crying out loud' I sat on the bed and took Maisy's hand and kissed it.

'She was asleep in the ottoman' Pauline said.

'But...but I looked there'

'She was under a couple of blankets, which is why the poor thing is dripping in sweat.'

'I think the lid fell shut, mummy' Maisy smiled, her rosy cheeks lifted.

I picked her up and hugged her.

'I couldn't bear the thought of losing you'. I mumbled into her damp hair.

One drama solved. Thank the lord.

As my shoulders slumped with relief, the moment of peace was shattered.

' Hello! Hello!' a voice called from downstairs.

I skipped to the top of the stairs and saw Clive and Barbara stood with two police officers.

'Oh, it's ok, we've found her officer! She was in the ottoman!' I said.

The police officers, a man and a woman, looked at each other, confused. Clive and Barbara stared, open mouthed like two under fed guppies.

'My daughter, we have found her' I said. I gave the thumbs up sign.

'That's...good' the female officer said slowly and she raised her eyebrows.

'Is a...Ms Corina Carmichael... here?' The male police officer said, reading the name from his notepad.

My eyes darted down to where Corina lay inebriated and snoring about a metre from my feet. Thankfully, she couldn't be seen from downstairs.

'Why, is there a problem?'

I tried to guess what Corina might have done to have the police knocking on the door.

'Yes, we believe she is the owner of a green Land Rover registration CC 666 and a 14 foot touring caravan'

Corina grunted loudly. I coughed suddenly to cover the sound. Bloody hell, she was driving whilst out of her voodoo loving mind and towing a bloody caravan to boot.

'The vehicles appear to have been abandoned half way down this road and are blocking both carriageways. According to...your neighbour...erm...' The police officer scoured his notepad for the name.

'Carol' I said and groaned. Trust her to be involved.

'Yes. We believe that Ms Carmichael came to this address'. The officer said.

I paused for a moment.

'No, she isn't here. I mean, she was but she went again. She said she had broken down and run out of petrol. She needed to get some so her friend, who she was with, took her in her car. We are having a wake. It's in there' I nodded towards the living room door.

'I'm sorry for your loss' the female officer said.

I forced a smile and thanked her.

At that moment, I spotted Corina's car keys on the side table in the hall.

'Ah! She left her keys, I only noticed once she had gone. Maybe you could use them to move the car?'

The Police officers looked at each other, before one took up the set of keys and examined them.

'Thank you, that would be helpful as traffic is being obstructed.

This friend, who drove her to... I presume a petrol station. Do you have a description?'

A description? Description? Quick, think!

When did I become this adept at lying?

Lying to the police.

Lying to the police with Clive and Barbara as witnesses.

When my life got so bloody farcical, that's when.

'Well, she looked kind of like a 1960's banker' I said.

Chapter 32

Noah and I stared at the worktop littered with at least 40 glasses each holding the dregs of drinks, of mourners who had now, thank god, buggered off home. The house was quiet. Pauline had gone up to bed, half an hour previously with a glass of water and a Bella magazine. Corina had narrowly escaped being arrested for drink driving thanks to my new found ability to pervert the course of justice. She had slept for nearly four hours. Noah and I had dragged her into Gracie's room and shut the door so that no one would see her. She then woke, before stumbling downstairs, lavishing her apologies on us. She hurriedly went to leave but realised she didn't know where her car was. I filled her in on the story and told her to tell the police she had gone for petrol. The police had parked the Land Rover and caravan on our driveway and said they would need to speak to Corina as soon as she returned. Corina had sobered up enough to be coherent and a swig of my mouthwash helped to disguise, if not eliminate, the reek of alcohol fumes that emanated from her. A taxi picked her up. On the way up to bed Maisy had asked to sleep in the ottoman but I had said that it was probably best that she didn't.

Noah flicked on the kettle.

'So, I totally missed what happened with Amber. Was it all ok?'

'It seemed alright, I didn't see much. They were in the kitchen. Then after Amber knew that we had found Maisy and all the food had been served she said they were going to leave us to it'.

I told Noah about Amber's past and how Riley and II had tried to help her make amends with her mum. I explained that I had written in secret after the first attempt failed. He listened attentively to the dramatic tale.

'Did they go to her house? Did they all leave together?' I said.

'I presume so' Noah shrugged.

'If today hadn't been so bloody horrendous, I could have been there for Amber'

'She had Rufus. You made it happen, babe. If you hadn't written to her mum, this day might never have come. They may never have sorted it out. Now they have a real chance. Rufus, little Max, they might get a grandma out of this'

I smiled and tears welled in my eyes.

I was exhausted; every muscle ached from being tensed for too long.

'Today was supposed to be about your dad. I feel like he didn't even get a look in' I said

'He would have loved it' Noah said 'A real life farce, people coming and going through different doors, drunk ladies being hidden from the police, wild goose chases, confusion and chaos. He used to roar with laughter at stuff like that on television when I was a kid.'

I wrapped my arms around my wonderful husband, the lighthouse in the storm.

Two days later, I pushed Gracie in her buggy through the door of Caffeine Junkie. The coffee shop was occupied by an elderly couple sharing a pot of tea, two women looking at holiday brochures and in the corner, Amber and Max. She smiled and waved when she saw me. Max grinned from his high chair, his mouth smeared with jam. I quickly ordered a Latte and an Eccles cake from the waitress, before I sat down. Chewing gum, the waitress, looked up from her phone briefly to acknowledge my existence before returning her gaze to the glowing screen.

'I'll bring it over' she said monotonously.

I sat down opposite Amber and parked Gracie alongside the table.

'Why do we come here, the service is worse than Fawlty Towers'

'I know, but it's cheap and we can always get a table in the window'

Amber stroked Gracie's hair and handed her a piece of cookie.

I didn't want any preamble; I wanted to ask Amber exactly what had happened at the wake with her mum and Riley, from beginning to end, without missing out any details.

Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long.

'Well, I would like to raise a toast, to my new bestest, best friend for making my life so brilliant!' Amber lifted her coffee cup up and a grin spread across her face

I was so relieved. Amber gave me a blow by blow account of what had happened, recounting it like a play. He said, then she said, then they said. We were obviously boring the babies as they both fell asleep.

'It was great. We talked and talked me and mum. All night in fact. Rufus was in shock and didn't speak for what seemed like hours. I was worried about him. He just listened taking it all in. He seems to have come to terms with the idea of new family, it is a huge deal.'

'A grandma, uncles and cousins'

'Yeah and mum was good, she said she wasn't happy with how I had acted all those years ago. I agreed. But she said she should have stood by me, not let shame take over. I asked mum not to tell Rufus about my past, well not all the sordid details. I would do that in my own time'

Amber bit her lip.

'What did she think of the house, your life? You have made so much of yourself' I said.

'I married a wealthy man, it's just fortunate. I haven't really done anything.'

Amber looked down into her frothy coffee.

'Apart from raise two amazing boys pretty much single-handedly'

Amber shrugged. She wouldn't accept the compliment.

'So, what's next?' I said.

'We are going to meet at the weekend. My husband is home on Friday, so I will need to have a long talk with him first. I said I would meet mum at the Botanical Gardens. My brother is going to bring her.'

'Wow, I'm so pleased things are working out'

I reached for her hand.

'All down to you, chick' She took mine and gave it a squeeze.

Taking a risk had paid off.

Chapter 33

This new life on The Hill certainly wasn't the peaceful, idyllic, middle England existence I had anticipated. Mostly it was chaotic, soul destroying and downright cack, but for some reason I loved it.

The drama was addictive.

Oh but so many tears.

Amber gave me a big hug as we stood on the pavement outside Caffeine Junkie and sighed.

'So, when you coming back to work for me then, so much needs wrapping and posting. Rufus is back to school this week and I've been getting him to do most of it'

'When my life stops being mental...or tomorrow?' I said.

'Fabulous, see you then' Amber said holding me tight. She seemed reluctant to let me go.

I watched as she walked away down the road. Noah's car appeared from the opposite direction and pulled up next to me. He got out of the car.

'Ready?'

'Ready'

I got in and watched the town go by as we drove.

The gates of the cemetery were old and rusty and stood open just enough to allow the car to pass through. The road led through the sea of graves, all well kept and adorned with flowers, spinning windmills, teddies and ornaments. The sun was high in the sky and the summer air was thick and hot. The car slowed and I picked up the bunch of yellow roses from the foot well and held them tightly in my hand.

'Gracie's asleep, want me to stay here with her' Noah said.

'Yeah, thanks' I got out of the car and slowly walked between the maze of grave stones along a path I had walked every week for four years.

I paused in front of a shiny black stone. Six down, three across.

The inscription read:

Grace Kendall

A wonderful wife and mother.

Always in our hearts and never forgotten.

My dad had planted blue star juniper, Irises and lavender on the grave and the smell was intoxicating. The flowers were in full bloom and I felt bad for ruining such a beautiful array with a bunch of Co-Op bought roses, which had already started to wilt in the heat. I lay them against the head stone.

Sitting down on the warm grass, I started to tell mum about our life on The Hill and in my head I could hear her laughing. She would have given the snobby women at the playgroup a piece of her mind. She would have put nosey Carol in her place and although she hadn't had an aggressive bone in her body, she would have given the filthy minded milkman a clip around the ear.

What I would give to have her back for a moment so she could see the girls.

They adore Pauline but they would have been head over heels for mum.

'Are you ready babe? Can't be late picking Maisy up on her first day at school' Noah said from the car.

The rose bouquet had slipped over, so I reached out and straightened it.

'Alexa!'

'Coming!'

That was me.

Alexa Green.

New owner of a life on The Hill and I was going to bloody well make the most of it, because you never know how long you've got.

