After living separately from the girls for a decade after the divorce, Mitchell was loving the new closeness.
‘You haven’t forgotten it’s your mum’s birthday today, have you?’
‘No, of course not. Isla says she’s forcing Mum to relax this morning. I’m going round for lunch with them though. We’ve arranged for a few of Mum’s friends to be there too, but she doesn’t know that, so that’ll be her first surprise of the day. The second surprise – because we’re amazing daughters who are milking this to death – will be her party tonight. Are you and Celeste still coming so you can all pretend to be progressive adults working together to form the perfect blended family?’
Mitchell wasn’t sure if it was the amused, teasing tone or the accuracy of her perception that made him roll his eyes.
Agnetha’s surprise birthday party. Since the divorce, and his remarriage to Celeste, they’d celebrated every event together for the sake of the kids, no matter how hard it was. In the beginning, it was very bloody tough, but he only had himself to blame for that.
‘Thanks for the sarcasm, madam. This is why I always preferred your sister,’ he quipped, ducking immediately as a pencil came flying in his direction.
Of course, they both knew it wasn’t true. He and Aggs loved both their daughters absolutely equally and if they’d done anything right at all it was to try to bring them up knowing that they were both loved beyond measure. Skye living here full time was such a joy, and Isla had a room here too, even if it was only used on the occasional weekend. In fact, since she’d come back from her travels and started work in the café, she’d barely stayed over at all. Still, he made a point of meeting her a couple of times a week for lunch or dinner and he was grateful that they both allowed him to be central in their lives. Even if it did come with some high grade cheek from both of them. Small price to pay.
He was still laughing and Skye was still feigning outrage when he picked her pencil out of the sink and tossed it back to her.
‘To answer your question, yes, we are both coming and, yes, we’ll be the perfect progressive parents,’ he joked. ‘How have you managed to keep it a surprise?’
‘Lies, optimism and taking advantage of her aversion to modern communication,’ Skye replied proudly. ‘We’ve told her that we are taking her out for a quiet ‘mum and daughters’ dinner, just the three of us. And thanks to the fact that she refuses to use social media, we’ve plastered the party all over Facebook and Insta to try to make sure we reach everyone. Look…’
Skye clicked the trackpad on her MacBook, then spun it round so Mitchell could see the post.
The announcement was on the The Ginger Sponge’s Facebook page.
To all friends, family and regular customers!
Tonight we’re having a SURPRISE party to celebrate our lovely owner Agnetha’s 45th birthday. If you love her, like her, or if she makes you a cup of tea more than once a week, you’re very welcome! Cake supplied, but bring your own bottle!
7 p.m. The Ginger Sponge.
And, remember, it’s a SURPRISE – anyone who spills the beans will be barred for life.
‘That looks great. She deserves it,’ Mitchell mused, almost to himself.
Skye nodded. ‘She does. She’s been through way too much and it’s time for some happy stuff.’
There was a tiny hint of a reprimand in Skye’s words, but he let it go, mainly because she was correct, but also because there was no point in opening up old wounds that time had already healed.
‘You’re right.’ Something tugged at his gut as he said it and he tried to pinpoint it. Unease? Doubt? Dread? All of the above, he decided. ‘Is Celeste up yet?’
‘Did I hear my name?’
Damn. She always went barefoot in the house so he could never hear her coming.
His wife sashayed into the room, her white silk dressing gown short enough to show off her toned, tanned legs, her ebony hair pulled up into a high ponytail. If any cosmetic aesthetician wanted a great advert for its business, Celeste would be a top pick.
Like him, she was in her mid-forties, but only according to her birth certificate. Her cheekbones were like carved alabaster, her feline eyes devoid of all but barely discernible crow’s feet and she visited the top clinic in the city once a month to tweak whatever element of her Botox, fillers, lasers, oxygen facials, lip plumping and neck tightening regime that needed work. It took a whole lot of money, time and effort to stay exactly the same, but Celeste maintained that it was worth it. Shallow as it was, when he was out with a wife who still turned heads, he tended to agree.
She applied the same dedication to her body maintenance. Not for her, the thumping round the streets in the morning, but thanks to daily yoga and Pilates sessions, and a pathological avoidance of carbohydrates, her body had barely changed since they’d got together. The only marked difference was the breast enhancement, her fortieth birthday present to herself. ‘It’s an investment in myself and in my business,’ she’d told him. He didn’t argue. But neither did he chide Isla when she heard the news and responded with mutterings of, ‘Didn’t realise huge knockers were essential to run an events company.’
While nothing much had changed on the outside in ten years, on the inside, however, it was a very different story. Back then, she’d adored him so much he’d risked everything for her. Now? Sometimes he felt like their marriage was more of a business transaction. And he was getting short changed. He just wanted to know why.
She pressed the buttons on the coffee machine to produce a steaming Americano, then filled a glass from the filtered water dispenser on the front of their brushed chrome, American fridge freezer.
‘I’m just going to take these back upstairs,’ she announced, clearly too busy to pass the time with them.
Mitchell cleared his throat before Celeste left the room. ‘Do you have anything on today? I thought maybe we could grab lunch? Skye is going over to her mum’s.’
There it was. The hesitation. Not exactly a rabbit in the headlights – Celeste was far too smart and could think on her feet faster than anyone he knew – but there was definitely a flicker that told him a lie was about to come out of her mouth.
Stretching up on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek. Another diversionary tactic. He didn’t remember the last time they’d had an actual meaningful exchange.
‘I already have plans, darling.’ She managed to sound regretful. ‘Yoga at 10.30 and then I’m meeting a potential new client for lunch.’
‘On a Saturday?’
‘Only day he could make it. Packed schedule. It’s like the yuppie years all over again. Big demands and they want everything on their terms.’
Mitchell couldn’t help the thought. Pot. Lycra-clad kettle.
‘We could grab a coffee on the terrace when I get home though, if the sun’s still shining.’
There was no way that was happening, he knew. Celeste hadn’t allowed sun on her face since the nineties.
‘Yeah, sure. I’ve got
