and then you’ll have no excuses not to ask her. I can’t be your fall guy for ever, you
know,’ she said, earning herself a punch on the arm from him. ‘What? There’s nothing to say you’ll beat me to it just because you’re in a happy, stable and committed
relationship.’
‘No, nothing at all,’ Tom replied, bursting out laughing. ‘Things are that serious between you and Josh then, are they?’
‘Not even close! But I could still surprise you. My Mr Right could be just round the corner. I might meet him tomorrow.’ An image of the Swimmer drifted in front of her eyes.
‘I could even have met him already.’
‘True,’ Tom nodded, thoroughly amused as he returned to stirring the soup. ‘Hungry? I made your favourite.’
‘Starved. I’ve eaten nothing but junk today.’
Tom rolled his eyes. ‘It’s a wonder you don’t have scurvy. Can you get the bowls down?’
Clem reached behind her into the cupboard and passed him two bowls.
‘Dad rang, by the way. The weather’s lovely there – obviously,’ Tom said as he ladled the soup in and she quickly buttered the rolls he’d left out on the
breadboard. ‘He was asking after you and whether you were using the bag.’
‘Oh yeah?’ She thought about the bag, untouched in her bedroom, hidden away at the back of the wardrobe.
‘Said they’re having a good time. They went sailing on the Bridgestocks’ boat today.’
Clem gave a small snort. ‘Another ambition fulfilled then.’ She caught sight of Tom’s enquiring glance. ‘Oh come on! Mum’s been angling for that invitation for
years. It’s the only reason she hosts that ghastly charity fair at the house each Easter. Octavia Bridgestock is one of the chairs of the committee.’
‘Oh.’ Tom frowned, unhappy and bewildered to hear Clem talk about their mother in that way. Clem knew that he saw her as an effortlessly gracious and elegant being – little did
he know how much discreet posturing and positioning went on below-radar to maintain that illusion.
They carried their supper over to the table and sat down, Clem taking chunks off her roll and dipping it in her soup.
‘So, d’you fancy a film tonight?’ Tom asked as they ate noisily together.
‘I so do.’ She groaned at the welcome prospect of a night stretched out on the sofa. ‘But I need a bath first. I haven’t changed since my run this morning.’
‘Grim,’ Tom said, pulling a face at her. ‘It really is a constant source of wonder to me that anyone finds you attractive.’ He was teasing her again, which was a good
sign.
Clem giggled and swatted his arm with the tube of kitchen roll there for mopping their chins. ‘By the way, I’ve hired a cleaner,’ she said. That wasn’t strictly true. She
hadn’t rung her yet, but she wanted to keep the good news coming and undo some of Clover’s earlier manipulations.
‘Really?’ If she’d told him she’d entered herself for a bodybuilding competition, he couldn’t have looked more surprised.
‘Yeah. Her name’s Mercy something and she’s forty quid for the morning.’
‘Great. I’m fed up with this place looking such a dump all the time. Mum’s always on my back about it. When’s she starting?’
‘Uh . . . Tuesday. Nine a.m.’
‘How did you find her?’
‘Ad in Ajeep’s,’ she replied, lifting the bowl and draining the last drops of soup like a toddler.
‘And you’ve checked her references and everything?’ Tom asked, watching her with a look akin to disbelief.
‘Course,’ Clem lied.
Tom pulled an expression that showed he was impressed. Clem grinned and stood up, feeling the momentum going with her. Clover who? ‘And for my next trick, I’m going to clear the
dishes.’ She carried the bowls and plates across the room, tongue sticking out between her teeth in concentration, as if she was spinning them on poles.
‘Little sis,’ he chuckled at the vision of clumsy domesticity. ‘I never thought I’d say this, but there may
know,’ she said, earning herself a punch on the arm from him. ‘What? There’s nothing to say you’ll beat me to it just because you’re in a happy, stable and committed
relationship.’
‘No, nothing at all,’ Tom replied, bursting out laughing. ‘Things are that serious between you and Josh then, are they?’
‘Not even close! But I could still surprise you. My Mr Right could be just round the corner. I might meet him tomorrow.’ An image of the Swimmer drifted in front of her eyes.
‘I could even have met him already.’
‘True,’ Tom nodded, thoroughly amused as he returned to stirring the soup. ‘Hungry? I made your favourite.’
‘Starved. I’ve eaten nothing but junk today.’
Tom rolled his eyes. ‘It’s a wonder you don’t have scurvy. Can you get the bowls down?’
Clem reached behind her into the cupboard and passed him two bowls.
‘Dad rang, by the way. The weather’s lovely there – obviously,’ Tom said as he ladled the soup in and she quickly buttered the rolls he’d left out on the
breadboard. ‘He was asking after you and whether you were using the bag.’
‘Oh yeah?’ She thought about the bag, untouched in her bedroom, hidden away at the back of the wardrobe.
‘Said they’re having a good time. They went sailing on the Bridgestocks’ boat today.’
Clem gave a small snort. ‘Another ambition fulfilled then.’ She caught sight of Tom’s enquiring glance. ‘Oh come on! Mum’s been angling for that invitation for
years. It’s the only reason she hosts that ghastly charity fair at the house each Easter. Octavia Bridgestock is one of the chairs of the committee.’
‘Oh.’ Tom frowned, unhappy and bewildered to hear Clem talk about their mother in that way. Clem knew that he saw her as an effortlessly gracious and elegant being – little did
he know how much discreet posturing and positioning went on below-radar to maintain that illusion.
They carried their supper over to the table and sat down, Clem taking chunks off her roll and dipping it in her soup.
‘So, d’you fancy a film tonight?’ Tom asked as they ate noisily together.
‘I so do.’ She groaned at the welcome prospect of a night stretched out on the sofa. ‘But I need a bath first. I haven’t changed since my run this morning.’
‘Grim,’ Tom said, pulling a face at her. ‘It really is a constant source of wonder to me that anyone finds you attractive.’ He was teasing her again, which was a good
sign.
Clem giggled and swatted his arm with the tube of kitchen roll there for mopping their chins. ‘By the way, I’ve hired a cleaner,’ she said. That wasn’t strictly true. She
hadn’t rung her yet, but she wanted to keep the good news coming and undo some of Clover’s earlier manipulations.
‘Really?’ If she’d told him she’d entered herself for a bodybuilding competition, he couldn’t have looked more surprised.
‘Yeah. Her name’s Mercy something and she’s forty quid for the morning.’
‘Great. I’m fed up with this place looking such a dump all the time. Mum’s always on my back about it. When’s she starting?’
‘Uh . . . Tuesday. Nine a.m.’
‘How did you find her?’
‘Ad in Ajeep’s,’ she replied, lifting the bowl and draining the last drops of soup like a toddler.
‘And you’ve checked her references and everything?’ Tom asked, watching her with a look akin to disbelief.
‘Course,’ Clem lied.
Tom pulled an expression that showed he was impressed. Clem grinned and stood up, feeling the momentum going with her. Clover who? ‘And for my next trick, I’m going to clear the
dishes.’ She carried the bowls and plates across the room, tongue sticking out between her teeth in concentration, as if she was spinning them on poles.
‘Little sis,’ he chuckled at the vision of clumsy domesticity. ‘I never thought I’d say this, but there may
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