packaging, and was soon wedged in next to Holly,
his head on her lap, chomping on a crisp delightedly. Even at eighteen months, he was still a big baby really.
‘You’ll spoil him,’ Lizzie warned.
‘Isn’t that going to be my job, as part-time parent? To spoil him rotten and then hand him back?’ Holly grinned, offering him another crisp and cuddling in to his blonde fur,
smoothing his silky ears and revelling in the look of total adoration in his deep chocolatey eyes.
His little body wiggled insistently, the tail literally wagging the dog. In a moment of intense joy, he sprang up, desperate to find a place on Holly’s lap.
She gently pushed his nose out of her face, as Lizzie fell about laughing at her attempts to get him down. ‘Eric,’ chided Lizzie sternly, ‘we’ve talked about this. No
tongues! You’ll get the whole town talking. Again.’
Holly laughed like a drain, the tension in her chest from their conversation evaporating. She gave in and pulled Eric’s wriggling body into her arms for a cuddle. ‘Let’s just
say that the more men I meet, the more I love your dog.’
‘Our dog,’ protested Lizzie. ‘And not all men . . . just, you know, yours . . .’
Chapter 8
A firm, confident knock at the front door echoed through the house.
‘He arrives!’ said Will dramatically, with a wink at the girls, before heading through to the hall to let Milo in.
Milo erupted into the room with his cashmere scarf swaddled around his neck. ‘Hello, Gorgeous!’ he said, giving Holly a lingering kiss on the lips. ‘Don’t you look
glamorous!’ He pulled Holly into his side, tucking an arm around her shoulders. ‘I was only saying to Holly this morning that she should ditch her ratty old make-up and start
afresh.’ He smoothed her cheek with his thumb, a look of intense adoration on his face. ‘But then if you’ve got a face like this, you really don’t need it, do you?’ He
smiled over at Will, in an all-boys-together gesture of solidarity. ‘Of course, I probably wasn’t quite that tactful! I never quite get it right, do I, Holls?’
While Milo gushed on, greeting Lizzie and praising the ‘tantalising’ aromas emanating from the stove, Holly found herself mentally crossing her fingers. Milo on good form was
charming and witty and even Lizzie had been known to soften in the spotlight of his attentions.
‘Are the boys all settled, or do I have time to say goodnight?’ Milo asked, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Sheer relief coursed through Holly, as she watched everyone laughing and chatting as though from a distance. She sipped at her drink and let the conversation ebb and flow around her. Her husband
was nothing if not enigmatic, but his abrupt mood changes these days still made her feel as though she were constantly on a cliff-edge. Maybe, she wondered, this was what losing the plot felt like?
After all, they did say that madness was hereditary and, come to think of it, Great-Aunt Phyllis had certainly been two sandwiches short of a picnic.
‘Is that bouillabaisse, Lizzie?’ Milo enquired, as they all sat around the table a short while later. ‘Lord, that’s ambitious. You are clever for giving
it a go. I’m not sure I’d know where to start!’
Lizzie shrugged nonchalantly, as though she whipped up French cuisine every night of the week.
‘Holly’s idea of a culinary adventure is adding tomato puree to the Bolognese, isn’t it, darling?’ he joked, totally missing the filthy look that Lizzie shot his way.
Will stood up with a ladle and reached out for Milo’s bowl. ‘I’ll be Mother then, shall I?’ he said, quietly and deliberately dishing up an enormous helping for Milo and
distinctly more petite portions for everyone else.
‘Sweet Jesus,’ mumbled Holly, as she and Will bravely sipped at their spoons, ‘it’s a good job you’re pretty, Lizzie.’
Lizzie grinned and poured herself another glass of wine. ‘It’ll be fine.
his head on her lap, chomping on a crisp delightedly. Even at eighteen months, he was still a big baby really.
‘You’ll spoil him,’ Lizzie warned.
‘Isn’t that going to be my job, as part-time parent? To spoil him rotten and then hand him back?’ Holly grinned, offering him another crisp and cuddling in to his blonde fur,
smoothing his silky ears and revelling in the look of total adoration in his deep chocolatey eyes.
His little body wiggled insistently, the tail literally wagging the dog. In a moment of intense joy, he sprang up, desperate to find a place on Holly’s lap.
She gently pushed his nose out of her face, as Lizzie fell about laughing at her attempts to get him down. ‘Eric,’ chided Lizzie sternly, ‘we’ve talked about this. No
tongues! You’ll get the whole town talking. Again.’
Holly laughed like a drain, the tension in her chest from their conversation evaporating. She gave in and pulled Eric’s wriggling body into her arms for a cuddle. ‘Let’s just
say that the more men I meet, the more I love your dog.’
‘Our dog,’ protested Lizzie. ‘And not all men . . . just, you know, yours . . .’
Chapter 8
A firm, confident knock at the front door echoed through the house.
‘He arrives!’ said Will dramatically, with a wink at the girls, before heading through to the hall to let Milo in.
Milo erupted into the room with his cashmere scarf swaddled around his neck. ‘Hello, Gorgeous!’ he said, giving Holly a lingering kiss on the lips. ‘Don’t you look
glamorous!’ He pulled Holly into his side, tucking an arm around her shoulders. ‘I was only saying to Holly this morning that she should ditch her ratty old make-up and start
afresh.’ He smoothed her cheek with his thumb, a look of intense adoration on his face. ‘But then if you’ve got a face like this, you really don’t need it, do you?’ He
smiled over at Will, in an all-boys-together gesture of solidarity. ‘Of course, I probably wasn’t quite that tactful! I never quite get it right, do I, Holls?’
While Milo gushed on, greeting Lizzie and praising the ‘tantalising’ aromas emanating from the stove, Holly found herself mentally crossing her fingers. Milo on good form was
charming and witty and even Lizzie had been known to soften in the spotlight of his attentions.
‘Are the boys all settled, or do I have time to say goodnight?’ Milo asked, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Sheer relief coursed through Holly, as she watched everyone laughing and chatting as though from a distance. She sipped at her drink and let the conversation ebb and flow around her. Her husband
was nothing if not enigmatic, but his abrupt mood changes these days still made her feel as though she were constantly on a cliff-edge. Maybe, she wondered, this was what losing the plot felt like?
After all, they did say that madness was hereditary and, come to think of it, Great-Aunt Phyllis had certainly been two sandwiches short of a picnic.
‘Is that bouillabaisse, Lizzie?’ Milo enquired, as they all sat around the table a short while later. ‘Lord, that’s ambitious. You are clever for giving
it a go. I’m not sure I’d know where to start!’
Lizzie shrugged nonchalantly, as though she whipped up French cuisine every night of the week.
‘Holly’s idea of a culinary adventure is adding tomato puree to the Bolognese, isn’t it, darling?’ he joked, totally missing the filthy look that Lizzie shot his way.
Will stood up with a ladle and reached out for Milo’s bowl. ‘I’ll be Mother then, shall I?’ he said, quietly and deliberately dishing up an enormous helping for Milo and
distinctly more petite portions for everyone else.
‘Sweet Jesus,’ mumbled Holly, as she and Will bravely sipped at their spoons, ‘it’s a good job you’re pretty, Lizzie.’
Lizzie grinned and poured herself another glass of wine. ‘It’ll be fine.
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