could hear that almost-laughter thing her voice did when something ominous was coming and she needed to buy time before it hit. Like Ofsted declaring they were about to spring an inspection on Hornbeam. ‘But . . . but we’ve only just gone on the market, we’ve had one viewing!’
‘Impressive, isn’t it?’
‘Yes . . . But I’m afraid we’re not taking anything less than the asking price.’
‘More good news, Mrs Hildred! The purchasers have offered the full asking price.’
Sarah winced. ‘But we haven’t even got our For Sale board up!’ Think. Were they in a chain? ‘We don’t want to be in a chain. Not even a short one.’ She felt sweaty. She was useless at bluffing.
‘Cash buyer, Mrs Hildred. Super, hey?’
Acceptance settled swiftly. She’d always been the accepting sort. ‘Can I get Jonathan to call you back, I’m just in the middle of something important with my son?’
Max buried his finger in his ear and began twisting it back and forth. She made a mental note to check if that crusty old bottle of hand sanitiser was still lurking in the bottom of her bag.
‘I’ll look forward to his call, Mrs Hildred. Cheerio.’
She shut off the phone. ‘Stupid estate agents, working on bank holidays.’ Max looked a question at her. They weren’t allowed to say stupid. ‘Sorry, kiddo. Come on, let’s see if we can find any of Godzilla’s cousins anywhere in the other tanks. Oh, look, Cretaceous Asia. Godzilla’s a Japanese dinosaur, right?’
Max looked up at her. ‘Godzilla isn’t a normal dinosaur, Mummy.’
‘Isn’t he?’
‘No. He’s made up from different bits of different dinosaurs.’
‘I see.’ She hadn’t got boxes. Sarah and the boys hadn’t even viewed any of the properties on the flashy cliffside development Jon had all the glossy brochures for. Compass Point. Navigate your family to a better lifestyle. Sarah cringed inwardly every time Jon pulled one out. Now he’d put an eye-watering deposit down. It was happening. Already. When everyone, everyone, said house sales dragged out, how they’d be on the market for months. Will’s GCSEs were starting soon, they couldn’t move now. Should’ve made more of a stand then, shouldn’t you? Now it’s too late.
‘What’s do you think my favourite bit is, Mummy?’
‘Hmm?’
‘My favourite Godzilla bit? Guess, Mummy.’
Sarah rubbed her forehead. ‘Tail?’ How was she going to break it to Will? He loved Milling Street. He loved his room, school ten minutes away by bike, the beach and harbour shops not even that.
‘Teeth!’
‘Hmm? Oh, his teeth. I see.’
‘No, look Mummy, teeth!’
She looked through the water. Something grimaced back at them. Max squealed with delight. ‘Jon! I know it’s you, Jon, I touched a shrimp with my actual finger!’ Max ran around the water tube, slamming into Jon’s legs.
‘Hey, big fella! Having fun? What did I miss? Where have you been? What did you see? Ready for flapjack?’
Jon had caught the sun over the weekend. Sarah had stifled a giggle last night when he’d shown her his new wetsuitshaped paler parts. Her body still reacted to him of course. It was her brain currently finding its role uncertain. Jon was handsome, charismatic, kind. Just because her mind was cautious didn’t mean her eyes didn’t enjoy what they could feast on. It was no different to Cleo tempting her with a fat slice of tiramisu when she was watching her calories. See how delicious it looks, Sarah, any sane woman would fancy a slice of that! Jon inspected Max’s crumpled activity sheet attentively, head furrowed in concentration, eyes bright and serious. Yes. Any sane woman would.
Did it really matter that the butterflies never fully arrived? She wasn’t a teenager any more for goodness sake, she and Jon were still compatible. Conversationally. Physically. Just, no butterflies. No big deal. Okay, so there had very definitely been butterflies when Patrick first burst into her life. Great big swarming butterflies of epic proportions, like Mothra, Godzilla’s giant winged adversary. But then Patrick was a bit of a shit, and so a bit of a shitty yardstick. If it weren’t for Max and Will, she’d regret ever clapping eyes on him. Their one-time adorable how-we-met story made her shudder now. Patrick swanning into the Students’ Union, shiny new camera swinging from his neck, bracing his hands at her table declaring Sarah’s to be the most perfect profile on campus and he’d know, he’d been staring through his lens at beautiful girls all day. I’m not a pervert, he’d assured her. Well, maybe one part pervert to four parts decent chap. She should’ve taken that swinging camera and garrotted him with it. Instead, she’d made love to Patrick Harrison all afternoon and fallen hopelessly in love, becoming Mrs Harrison by the following summer.
She glanced at Jon, Max still talking him through the creatures they’d already spotted. Jon was not a Patrick. And even though she didn’t feel butterflies, she still felt something every morning when Jon walked out suited and booted for work, and even more so now, while he was at his absolute best in casual weekend T-shirt and jeans mode. With Max, who adored him. She was lucky to get another shot at this. A family for the boys. At times she wondered if there’d been some silly mix-up. As if she was the wrong suitcase Jon had mistakenly plucked off the airport conveyor belt and was now too embarrassed to return to its rightful owner because of his own sheer stupidity at getting something so utterly obvious so utterly wrong. But only dimwits like her did things like that – although in her defence, a surprise trip to Portugal with a ten-year-old and a colicky newborn had turned out to be a particularly disorientating experience.
Now here she was. Four years into her second chance and Jon still hadn’t decided he’d made a terrible mistake. He just kept on driving her and the boys towards a hopeful horizon. It was the strangest thing.
‘Whoa, Maxy . . . Who’s this beautiful creature you’ve found in the aquarium? Can we take her home and keep her?’
Sarah’s shoulders relaxed again. ‘You looked like one of those gurners through the water,’ she smiled. ‘Reminded me a little of my Aunt Linda.’ None of Sarah’s father’s side were much for smiling, too busy in-fighting over big egos and small inheritances.
Jon slipped his hand under the hem of her jacket. ‘And you looked like a siren.’ He pulled her into him. He was wearing the terrible Spiderman aftershave Max had bought him for Father’s Day last year. Sarah let him kiss her, hoping it might be enough to chase away the fresh doubt. ‘What do you think, Maxy, is Mum hiding a mermaid tail under this long dress, do you think?’
Max shrugged. He didn’t care for mermaids. Sarah took a deep breath. ‘The estate agent just called.’
‘I know, he left me a voicemail. So, what do you think?’
Seventeen years she’d lived in that house. Will and Max’s only home. ‘Bit scary, I guess.’
‘And a little bit exciting?’
‘Sure. It’s just . . .’
‘A big change?’ Jon kissed her on the head and gave the back of her neck a gentle, reassuring squeeze. ‘It’ll be okay, Sarah. I promise. This is going to be a great move for us. All of us. Especially Will.’ He nuzzled into her. ‘This is mine and Will’s chance to start a new chapter together. Not as a confused young boy and his school counsellor, or wary son and the guy who moved in, but as equals, Sarah. This is our chance to start from zero, as equals. A solid family unit.’
There were two of everything in Curlew Cottage. Two saucepans, two plump little sofas, each with nautically inspired cushions, two bistro chairs sitting on the shady