round the image and overly enthuse about it.
‘It’s lovely,’ says Joanne. ‘I love the way the real us shines through.’
I’m not sure any of us quite know what she means, but to restore the light-hearted atmosphere, we all agree and allow Joanne to lean the picture against the clock on the mantelpiece of the living room.
‘What shall we do with our bags?’ asks Andrea, as Joanne takes a moment to admire the photograph from the middle of the room.
Joanne spins round. ‘Oh, yes. I’ll show you to your rooms.’ She leads the way back into the hallway and we climb the narrow oak staircase. ‘Two of you will need to share.’ She looks at myself and Andrea. ‘Are you two OK in the twin room?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ I say and Andrea agrees.
‘Excellent, that’s that sorted.’ Joanne pushes open one of the doors and stands back to allow us in first.
It’s a pleasantly spacious room with dual views from the front and rear of the property. Everything in the room is white, from the walls to the furniture and bedding. The little dormer window at the front looks out on to the track and for the first time I notice a river over the other side of a small brow that must have shielded it from sight when we were dropped off outside. I push my face closer to the glass and away to the left, where the river bends out of sight, I can see a little stone bridge, just wide enough for one vehicle to pass over. It looks picture-postcard.
‘It’s a gorgeous view,’ I say, turning and going over to the window at the back. The view this time isn’t so inviting. The trees behind appear even taller from the first floor. They bunch together, swallowing up the daylight, and become one big mass of darkness as I try to look further into the forest.
‘Which bed do you want?’ asks Andrea.
‘I’ll have the one near the front window.’
‘OK, I’ll be near the door.’ Andrea dumps her rucksack on to the bed.
‘The bathroom is right next to your room,’ says Joanne from the doorway. ‘It’s not exactly en-suite, but it’s as good as.’ She turns to Zoe. ‘Our rooms are across the landing. I’m at the front and you’re at the back. Now I’ll let you all get settled and freshened up. Come down in ten minutes and lunch will be ready.’
‘Any chance we can have our phones?’ I ask. ‘I want to check in with Alfie.’
A shadow darts across Joanne’s face, but it’s so fast I almost question whether I saw it. However, the sympathetic look she gives me seems so false, I know I didn’t imagine it. ‘Sorry. No can do,’ she says, hugging the blue bag to her body. ‘All part of the game. No communication with the outside world this weekend. Besides, you can’t get a signal up here, it’s a not-spot.’
‘How do people get on in an emergency?’ asks Andrea.
‘There’s a wireless radio in the kitchen, but it looks as old as the hills,’ says Joanne. ‘It was probably last used in the Second World War.’
‘I can’t believe there’s no phone coverage at all,’ says Andrea. ‘We really are in the middle of nowhere.’
‘You’d think there would be a landline,’ I agree.
‘What’s up?’ asks Joanne. ‘Is there a problem? Do you need to get in touch with Alfie?’
‘Nothing’s up. Alfie is staying at Andrea’s with Colin and Bradley.’
‘Then he’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about,’ says Joanne. ‘Although you know Tris would have been happy to look after him had he not been on his golfing break. Not that Alfie needs looking after, he is eighteen later this month.’
‘Yeah, I know, but Bradley and Alfie are having a gaming weekend. Thanks anyway, I’ll bear that in mind for the future,’ I say, feeling slightly uncomfortable at my little lie. The truth is, I was relieved when I found out Tris would be away this weekend. Alfie had already said he’d like to stay with Tris and Ruby, but I didn’t like the way he was attaching himself to Tris. It was almost as if Tris was becoming a replacement for Darren. The amount of time he spends over there concerns me. Next thing, he’ll be seeing Joanne as a replacement for me. As usual, this thought provokes a wave of insecurity and jealousy. I turn away from Joanne and start undoing my rucksack to hide the irrational fear that somehow she will be able to read my thoughts.
‘He’s always welcome, you know that,’ says Joanne, clearly not letting me off the hook that easily. ‘We like having him over. He and Ruby get on great. You should be encouraging him, not deterring him.’
‘Who said anything about deterring him?’ I snap, my guilt flaring up in the disguise of anger.
‘Don’t get all defensive,’ says Joanne, folding her arms. ‘I’ve known him so long and he’s at our place so much, we’re like an extended family.’
‘Hey, come on you two,’ says Zoe, from the landing. ‘Let’s not fight. This is supposed to be a fun birthday weekend, remember?’
Joanne and I study each other for a few seconds. I don’t want to spoil the weekend. I plaster on a smile. ‘We’re not fighting.’
‘No. We’re not,’ Joanne says, before turning and ushering Zoe across the hallway to her room.
I begin to unpack my clothes, quietly seething inside. I can sense Andrea looking at me and I meet her gaze. She raises her eyebrows and gives me a look that says she’s not fooled for one minute. ‘What?’ I say defensively. ‘We weren’t fighting.’
‘No. Of course you weren’t,’ she says, taking a T-shirt from her bag and lying it flat on the bed. ‘No tension between you two at all.’
I lob a jumper I’ve just taken from my bag at her. ‘None whatsoever. Don’t know what you’re talking about.’
We both laugh as she tosses the jumper back at me, but we also both know that Andrea is one hundred per cent right.
I hang the last of my clothes in the wardrobe, leaving space on one side for Andrea to use. ‘It’s a nice room,’ I say, as I quickly put on a fresh T-shirt. ‘A bit on the basic side, but functional.’
‘Better than I was expecting,’ says Andrea. ‘How is everything with Alfie?’ She fiddles with her makeup bag in an attempt to seem casual but I suspect my earlier words with Joanne have prompted the enquiry.
‘About the same. Actually, that’s a lie. I don’t know how it’s going. He never talks about Darren.’ I stop myself from continuing. I feel disloyal talking about Alfie even though Andrea is one of my best friends.
‘Do you ever ask him?’
‘Not any more. It’s a prickly subject,’ I admit. I walk over and sit down on my bed, letting out a sigh as I wrestle with my need to talk to someone about Alfie and my desire to project a much rosier picture of my home life. The need wins out. ‘He seems more distant than ever lately. And
