to turn down a decent job.’
‘Money isn’t everything,’ Madison said tartly.
‘He sounds perfectly lovely,’ Helen sighed. ‘Maybe we can double date.’
‘I’m fully booked this century,’ Madison snapped. And given Helen wasn’t going to move, she made herself busy, slicing cucumber for the salad and putting on a pan of water for the rice. Even though the conversation had ended a good couple of minutes ago, Madison found herself reviving it. ‘Believe me, Guy Boyd would be the last person I’d date.’
‘Perhaps.’ Helen smiled, not rising to Madison’s rather brittle tone. ‘But have you ever thought of getting back out there?’
‘Out where?’ Madison asked, knowing perfectly well what Helen meant but deliberately stalling her.
‘Dating, Madison,’ Helen said. ‘It’s been five years since Mark died…’
‘And it’s taken me nearly all of them to get back on my feet,’ Madison pointed out. ‘I used the words “free spirit” affectionately when I first met Mark,’ Madison said. ‘I thought it was fun to follow your heart, live for today. I really believed Mark when he said that tomorrow would take care of itself. But unlike Mark, having a baby made me grow up, having a baby meant that I did start thinking about tomorrow…’
‘Madison, I know you’ve been hurt…’ Standing up, Helen checked the door was closed. ‘Heaven knows, you’ve got every reason to be wary, but there are some good guys out there.’
‘How do you know that?’ Madison’s words were as confused as they were angry. ‘I’m doing OK. Emily and I are doing just fine by ourselves!’ She shook her head, not at all ready to go there after such an emotionally charged day. ‘Can we drop it?’
‘Sure,’ Helen said kindly, but her tiny sigh told Madison that she’d have loved to have carried on with the conversation, would have loved to have pushed a little more. After a moment’s hesitation, a moment to wait and see if Madison was going to add anything further, Helen gave in and headed over to the fridge. She pulled out some chicken, chatting about something Richard had said to Emily. But as grateful as Madison was for the change of subject, inside she felt jolted and uneasy, and it wasn’t just to do with Gerard’s death but with the pace of her own life. The fact that Helen, after the appalling marriage she’d been through, after swearing off men for the next century at least, could even contemplate taking up the baton and resuming the race was beyond Madison’s comprehension.
Helen was moving on with her life, suggesting even that Madison do the same.
Only she truly wasn’t ready.
‘IT’S sports uniform today!’ Emily said accusingly as she eyed her uniform, crisply laid out on the sofa.
‘Which is what I’ve put out for you,’ Madison answered, depositing a glass of fruit juice on the coffee-table for her daughter. She started applying her foundation as she made a speedy exit towards the bathroom.
‘You gave me stripy socks!’ Emily’s words stopped Madison in her tracks, her un-mascara’d eyelashes blinking at the simple but unusual mistake. ‘They have to be plain white socks, but these have got a red stripe around the top!’
‘Then I’ll get you some plain white ones,’ Madison answered, annoyed at herself for that simple slip-up. The morning routine was usually written in stone, but the morning wasn’t normally preceded by a fitful night spent tossing and turning. To Madison’s shame, it hadn’t just been Gerard’s sudden death that had kept her staring at the ceiling into the small hours, but Helen’s rather pointed comments. Despite the irrefutable evidence, Madison resisted the thought—was it the very new, very inappropriate consultant who had caused her sudden brush with insomnia?
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