up for a nice Sunday roast. You know how he thinks the earth will stop spinning if we don’t keep up that Sunday tradition. Dot said she’d even make your favourite Yorkshire puddings and her lovely apple and bramble crumble. Skye could come if you want.’
I smiled to myself. No point asking Chanelle, who wouldn’t dip a single one of her perfectly pedicured toes in a public bath.
April slotted a CD into the music player and within seconds Beyoncé’s confident tones rang out. ‘Nooo. We’ve just had our hair done. Swimming will mess it up for school next week. Skye says we should try and keep it nice until then. Everyone will be well impressed. And she wouldn’t want Yorkshire puddings tomorrow – or dessert. Just chicken and vegetables. Me too.’ Her voice sounded kind of sad.
‘You love desserts!’ You used to, I thought, her subdued tones pinching my stomach.
‘Chanelle says it’s never too early to start being careful about satchel-ated fat.’
‘Do you know what that is?’ I said, as we turned into our drive. I shot a look at the passenger seat before pulling up in front of our triple garage. My stomach pinched tighter. Was her dress baggier than usual? Since she’d been hanging around with Skye’s clique I was worried April had developed a concern about her size.
‘Remember that chef she once had,’ April continued. ‘He used to work for Victoria Beckham.’
My lips upturned. I knew. Chanelle had rung me after hiring him, fizzing with excitement, like an opened can of shaken lemonade. This was before her divorce and financial straits. I pressed the remote control so that the garage door lifted.
‘Why can’t we have a chef who makes sushi and healthy stuff like that?’ she asked as I parked up inside.
I unfastened my seat belt and through the dim light, turned to face April. Her lips pursed together and she suddenly looked her age, innocence radiating from eyes that knew little of life’s dangers. Or was Zak right, that my biggest problem was worrying too much? Was I looking for flaws that didn’t exist in the diamond that was our life?
‘Well, we could – but wouldn’t you miss Dot?’ I asked, softly. ‘She’s been cooking for you – for us all – since you were knee-high.’
April cocked her head and nodded. ‘ And …’ she lowered her voice ‘… I didn’t say anything to Skye, but sushi is yuk. This seaweed roll made me gag.’
‘So, the pool, Yorkshire puddings, and crumble tomorrow?’ I said. ‘You can borrow my swimming cap. And we mustn’t forget your asthma inhaler.’
April pulled a face. ‘But I hardly ever need it in the summer.’
‘Sometimes your chest doesn’t like chlorine.’
‘Okay. Yes. Just you and me, then.’ She leaned over for a cuddle. I almost choked on the strong floral whiff but suffered it for the sake of holding her tight. I gave a big sniff.
‘It’s Chanelle’s new perfume. She saves it for special occasions. Epic, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I managed, but couldn’t stop myself from sneezing.
‘Let’s go inside, so I can show you and Daddy my goody bag! Skye says it’s filled with amazing stuff, just like the gifts at those parties movie stars go to.’
We headed into our house, called The Willows. Okay, scrub house. Think mansion. It boasted eight bedrooms, six en suites, two living rooms, a giant kitchen, and a massive nursery, which we’d now converted into a cinema room. Dot helped me run the household, along with her husband who could mend shelves or prune anything in the garden. It hadn’t felt like home for a long time, after I’d first moved in. Too much space and not enough clutter, I used to think.
April grabbed my hand and pulled me into the smaller living room, the one we used most when we didn’t have guests – the one in which I felt truly comfortable, with furniture that didn’t quite match and ramshackle bookshelves. I sat down on a floral sofa, whilst April ran over to Zak and gave him the biggest hug, almost knocking his laptop onto the floor. My chest swelled as I observed the little family I’d nurtured and helped to grow. She collapsed onto a fringed rug. He shook his head from his favourite brown leather armchair.
‘Whoa, my little princess, talk about a whirlwind.’ He gave me a tired smile, not one of his killer ones that made my insides melt. After all these years, I still admired the breadth of his shoulders under his crisp white shirt and the solid legs shown off by denim jeans. He ran a hand through chestnut hair that always looked as if he’d just showered and styled it. Slicked back, it showed off his face – the strong chin, dark eyes, and generous lips that promised – and delivered every sort of pleasure a woman could want.
My cheeks flushed at the thought. The sizzling chemistry between us had always surmounted any problem, though recently it had lost a little of its fizz, like champagne that had been uncorked too long. Zak worked hard – too hard, of late.
‘How did it go?’ he asked and stared once again at his laptop.
‘April wants to show you her goody bag,’ I said pointedly. He caught my eye. I winked and jerked my head towards our daughter. Zak was a busy man, so sometimes I prodded to let him know that little bits of attention meant so much to her.
He pushed his laptop to one side and raised both eyebrows. April grinned, crossed her legs, and dipped into the silver bag, to pull out item after glossy item.
I should have been used to the excess, after ten years of being married to a millionaire. What a difference from the party bags my mum and I used to put together for my birthday bashes. They usually contained homemade fudge, crayoning books, and pretty pens.
That’s another thing. When you have kids, you can’t help but compare their childhood to your own. And you try to remedy all the things that, over the years, you felt your parents did wrong. Yet the biggest shock is to realise that most of the time, they had it right. I used to hate Mum’s strictness over bedtimes but now saw how ratty April got if she had even one late night.
‘This make-up is ace!’ she said and cooed over a palette of metallic colours. ‘I must go and show Dot. She’s always saying she never knows what colour eye shadow to wear. Then I’ll take a photo of it with all the other stuff.’ She pouted. ‘I wish you’d let me join Instagram, Mum.’
Whilst Zak was right – kids did grow up quickly nowadays – when it came to social media, I’d always been firm. ‘You know the rules – if you have to lie about your age to join, it’s a no-no.’
‘But it has amazing filters that make you look better and all my friends –’
I folded my arms.
‘Fine,’ she mumbled and scooped up all the items. She headed out of the room and pulled the door behind her.
I stood up and stared at the door. ‘You don’t think she’s getting a bit … thin, do you?’ I asked.
Zak looked up. ‘This again? Stop stressing, baby. She’s just aware of healthy eating. They teach it nowadays at school.’
His eyes crinkled deeply at the corners, hardly surprising with all the hours he was putting in. I’d keep my concerns to myself for the moment. He clearly had enough to worry about. I didn’t want to burden him.
