one seemed to notice as she left the room. Walking back into the kitchen, she caught sight of the pan of mulled wine gently bubbling on the Aga. Feeling a sudden spike of annoyance, she picked it up and tipped it down the sink. She watched the dark red, gloopy liquid congeal around the plughole, with its crimson tendrils clinging to the stark white walls of the sink like blood. She turned on the tap and swished water over the incriminating evidence until it was all gone.
She stared at the empty pan guiltily. But, she reassured herself, it was about time someone told Peter the truth about what they all thought of his horrible yearly concoction. She wished Emma would get here. She needed an ally, someone to tell her whether she was imagining Bella’s offhand behaviour.
As if on cue, her mobile rang. She snatched it up as she saw Emma’s name flashing on the screen. ‘Hi, darling, where are you?’
‘Mum!’ Emma sobbed. ‘I’ve had an accident. I hit a patch of ice on a bend and I’ve spun off the road.’ Her voice was audibly shaking.
‘Oh my God! Are you OK? Are you hurt?’ Jo’s legs suddenly felt weak.
‘Bit of a bump on the head. And my neck is killing me. But I think I’m OK.’ Jo could hear her holding the phone away from her body as she examined herself.
Jo swallowed down the tide of panic that was rising up inside her and tried to keep her voice steady and calm. ‘Right. Daddy and I are coming to get you. Where are you?’
Emma began to cry, causing Jo’s heart to constrict. Emma rarely cried. She was so composed and she always seemed to be in control of her emotions. Hearing her lose it completely told Jo that they needed to get to her as quickly as possible. ‘I’m at the corner of Bramble Lane and Mill Road, near the pub,’ Emma managed, through giant, gulping sobs.
‘We’ll be with you in ten minutes. Just stay where you are.’
Jo dashed into the sitting room, where Peter, Ben and Bella were still chatting, seemingly unaware of her absence. They all looked up at her in surprise as she entered. ‘Emma’s had an accident. We need to go and get her.’
Peter and Ben both leaped out of their seats. ‘Shit! Is she OK?’ Ben’s face creased with concern and Jo could see that he was genuinely worried for his sister. It gave her a small crumb of comfort to see a glimpse of the old Ben.
‘She’s very shaken and upset and I think she’s bumped her head but she was talking coherently, so hopefully she’s fine. Come on, Peter, we need to hurry.’ She gestured towards the door expectantly.
Peter nodded quickly and strode past her, already scooping his car keys from the glass bowl on the console table in the hallway.
‘I’ll come!’ Ben followed Peter towards the door.
‘No, Ben!’ Bella shouted suddenly, causing all of them to stop in their tracks. ‘You can’t go.’
Ben scowled irritably. ‘What? I need to go with them in case Dad and I have to pull the car out of a ditch or something.’
Bella’s face darkened. ‘You can’t leave me here on my own!’
Jo felt a sudden urge to slap her daughter-in-law’s pretty face. ‘Come. Don’t come,’ she snapped at Ben. ‘But make your bloody mind up because we need to get to Emma.’
Ben hesitated and Jo could see the dilemma he faced. If he came with them, Bella would be furious with him. If he didn’t come, he would be furious with himself. ‘Sorry,’ he said to Bella, seemingly having made up his mind. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes. You’ll be fine.’
There was a short, awkward pause, before the three of them raced out of the door, leaving Bella looking so angry that Jo imagined she could almost see the steam coming out of her ears.
As they rounded the corner of the road where Emma had told them she was, Jo gasped, clamping her hand over her mouth. Emma was sitting on the still-frosty grass verge with her head in her hands. Even at a distance, Jo could see that she was very distressed. Her mint green Fiat 500 was neatly nestled up against a tree, almost as if it was giving it a hug. Flimsy plumes of smoke rose lazily from beneath the bonnet. Peter pulled the car over and they all leaped out. Jo knelt down and put an arm around Emma’s shaking shoulders. ‘It’s OK, sweetheart, we’re here now. You’re going to be fine.’
Emma let out a sound that was a cross between a groan and a sob and nodded. Ben moved round behind her and put his hands under her armpits, before lifting her gently to her feet. She took a deep breath to steady herself and gave him a watery smile. ‘Cheers, Ben.’
Ben smiled back, his face still full of concern. ‘No worries. That’s quite an impressive bump on your head.’
Jo followed his gaze. A huge egg-shaped lump was forming on Emma’s forehead. It reminded her of the time when she was three and she had fallen down the stone steps in the garden, resulting in a similar-shaped bump.
‘Come on, piglet, let’s get you home.’ Peter pulled Emma into his arms and steered her towards the Range Rover, where he carefully helped her into the back seat.
Jo could see that Emma was violently shaking and climbed in beside her, wrapping one arm around her and taking her hand in the other.
‘I’ll drive Em’s car home,’ Ben said, heading towards the Fiat.
‘Is it OK to drive?’ Jo looked dubiously at the little car, which was looking very sorry for itself. ‘I don’t want you having an accident, too.’
‘I think it’ll be fine. Let’s just get it home and we can get someone to take a look later.’ Peter was already starting up the Range Rover and putting it into gear.
A few minutes later, they arrived home and helped a still-trembling Emma out of the car and into the house. Peter steered her towards the kitchen and settled her on a chair at the huge granite island in the middle of the room. ‘I know what you need – a glass of mulled wine.’ He turned expectantly towards the hob and stopped in puzzlement. ‘What’s happened to the mulled wine?’
Jo could feel her cheeks reddening. ‘I tipped it away.’
‘What did you do that for?’ Peter frowned and looked at Jo in astonishment.
‘Because … oh, because it was horrible!’ Jo waved her hand dismissively. ‘And I think Emma needs something a bit stronger than a non-alcoholic mulled wine anyway. Go and get her some whisky!’ She knew she was blustering because she was embarrassed. She had tipped the mulled wine away in a fit of pique because Peter had prepared it especially for Bella.
Peter tutted and continued to frown but, after a moment’s hesitation, he found the whisky and poured Emma a generous slug.
‘Thanks.’ Emma picked up the glass and drained it.
‘Would you like to go and have a lie-down?’ Peter had poured himself a whisky and raised his eyebrows questioningly at Jo, who nodded, suddenly desperate for a drink.
‘No.’ Emma held out her glass. ‘But I’ll have a refill.’
Ben joined them in the kitchen looking sheepish. ‘Um, Bella’s not feeling too good. I’m sorry but I think we’d better go home.’
Jo’s
