was lonely.’
I sweep the salad into a bowl and shake it like it’s Terry’s neck. I squeeze mayonnaise on top, like I’m throttling his wife, Alison’s, throat. I wonder why I’m still bothered. It was years ago.
‘Well, I’m just saying, Jade, be careful. Take your time.’
‘Like you’re doing? No relationships at all since Dad? You’re cynical, Mum, and you’re unhappy, so you just don’t want anyone else to be happy.’
My teeth snap together. She’s right. Over the last few years, there’s been no one. I hurl the empty mayonnaise bottle towards the bin. It skims the metal top and clatters on the floor. I know I should say nothing but the words bubble out.
‘Well, don’t come to me, Jade, when you’re broken-hearted and—’
I realise I’ve gone too far. Jade’s staring, her mouth open.
‘Mum. Don’t you want me to be happy?’
I rush over and hug her. She holds her arms out away from me, as if I smell. I sigh.
‘Of course I want you to be happy, Jade. I’m sorry, love. I’m being too protective, aren’t I?’ I feel her nod. ‘Sorry. I’ll start again.’ I move away, go over to the cupboard and pull out a bottle of red wine. ‘Shall we break our no-alcohol-in-the-week rule and crack a bottle open? Toast you and Luis. To love and good times?’
She pulls a face, raises her arms, stretches lean limbs, and for a moment she looks just like Terry.
‘Okay. We need a bit of bonding time, don’t we? But, trust me, Mum. I know what I’m doing. And when you meet Luis, I know you’ll love him.’
I pour wine into two glasses and the soft liquid glug is calming me already.
‘I’m sure I will,’ I tell her, raising the glass and swallowing a huge gulp of Merlot.
The following week flies by. Jade returns on Tuesday, deals with a dozen clients midweek and on Thursday, she’s back on the train to Brighton. On Friday morning, Nanny Basham has an early doctor’s appointment for her heart check-up, so I drive her to the surgery, where she manages to upset the receptionist and antagonise a woman with a fretful baby. I apologise to everyone in the waiting room, and she nags all the way home about the slack state of modern parenting and how the child only needed a comforter to stop it screaming. I nod and concentrate on the road. Nan and Uncle Wilf never had children.
Then we’re busy all day, hardly a moment to stop for breath. Amanda leaves at six, excited about a romantic evening she has planned, and when I go to lock up at seven o’clock, I notice a hunched shape sitting on my front step. Bonnie looks up, her face in shadow, and I open the door and propel her inside. She’s quaking with cold, huddled against her handbag. I shut the front door behind us.
‘Bonnie, what’s the matter? What’s Adie done now?’
She’s shaking. Her eyes leak and her make-up is smudged; the blusher shines livid against the pallor of her face, but the worst thing is the haunted expression in her eyes.
‘He was out until three last night. He said he was at a meeting but he smelled of perfume. I asked him if he’d been with someone else and he said no, but when I kept on nagging him, he said it was just some random woman at a business party and it didn’t matter. He said I shouldn’t make a big deal of it …’
I hug her. ‘Well done for walking out, Bonnie. You’re staying here with me now. How did you get here?’
‘I got a taxi.’
‘From Frodsham?’
‘He has my car keys. He told me I couldn’t leave him. He wouldn’t let me.’
An engine roars and Adie’s car turns into the drive. There’s hardly room for him to park next to my X5, so he leaves his Porsche at a diagonal and throws the door open, marching towards us, his head down like a bull, his bald spot shining pink.
Bonnie hides behind me and he moves towards her but I bar his way.
‘No, Adie.’
It crosses my mind he could simply push me to one side and I’ve no idea why I’m standing between my cowering sister and her tall, smug husband. I put my hands on my hips, lean forwards and impersonate an orangutan. The Alpha female.
‘We can go inside to talk, but I’m telling you now, if you make a scene, I’ll call the police. We do this my way or not at all.’
The blood drains from his face and I breathe out slowly. He nods. His hand clutches a mobile phone. His knuckles are white. He looks at Bonnie.
‘Are you all right, love?’
She nods. I fumble for my keys and stare at him, then her.
‘She’s obviously not all right, Adie. You’ve cheated on her. It’s not acceptable …’ I shake my head. Not acceptable? It’s worse than that.
‘Bonnie, I’ve been so worried. I mean, all this fuss over a silly woman. It was nothing, I swear …’
He ignores me, standing with my hands on my hips, and rushes over to Bonnie, wrapping his arms around her. His fingers move to her wrist, over the gold charms on her bracelet, and back to her face. His shoulders are hunched and I can see the tension in his spine through his coat. Bonnie stands stiffly, gripping her handbag, her eyes reflecting her misery.
‘Come in, both of you.’ I sound like an ancient schoolmistress. ‘We have some things to talk about, don’t we?’
In the kitchen, we sit down. Adie takes off his coat, puts his phone next to him on the table and scans the screen, head bent. I make coffee. Bonnie sips from a mug, inhaling steam; she looks washed-out. I hand her a tissue and begin the conversation.
‘Right, Adie. What’s going on? It’d better be good.’
I bite my lip and stifle a smile. I could be a United Nations special envoy. But this is serious. Adie wipes his face with his hands. His brow furrows, sweat lodged in the deep seams.
‘Bonnie, I’m so sorry.’
I thump the table with my fist. ‘I’m sure you are, Adie. But it’s not the first time you’ve played away, is it?’
Bonnie looks from his face to mine and her expression is blank. He focuses on me.
‘I love her, Georgie. Other women don’t matter. I can’t be without her.’
I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. ‘How much did you love her when you had your arm round another woman last night?’ I notice Bonnie’s eyes start to fill up again.
He sighs. ‘There are some things happening in my life right now – things I can’t talk about.’
‘Philandering is not one of them.’ I sip coffee. ‘You have a lot of explaining to do. You won’t cheat on her again, Adie. I promise you that.’
He turns a glare on me and his eyes are bitter. ‘You’re just angry because Terry cheated on you. You don’t understand.’
I lean forwards and keep my gaze straight, my eyes boring into his. ‘Try me.’
He turns a tender gaze on Bonnie, reaches out and puts his hand over hers. Her face softens. He takes a deep breath.
‘I’m a businessman, Georgie. I make a lot of money so I can keep my wife in a plush house. We have nice things. But sometimes I have to take risks and—’
‘What does that have to do with other women?’ My voice booms like a politician, retaliating during Question Time. I’m taking no prisoners.
Bonnie’s holding his hand. He brings it to his lips. Suddenly, I’m terrified he’s winning her round.
‘It was a business party. There were all sorts of women there, you