orange juice and, instead of coffee, warm milk.
The pancakes, when they come, are a sight to behold. There are three of them stacked on the plate, topped with banana. Laety brings him the honeypot so he can drizzle honey over the lot. It is a messy business and Laety tucks a tea towel into his collar so that his school uniform won’t be soiled. Laety is the only person he allows to do this; or perhaps she is the only person he dares not refuse.
Sebastian has an early start on Tuesdays and he needs to be in the car by quarter to eight, which leaves him less than fifteen minutes to finish getting ready. Laety is the one to hurry him through his last mouthfuls before she whips off the tea towel and sends him to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Sebastian is in the junior school and during the summer term, the boys wear long navy shorts and knee-length socks. Their shirts are white; their ties blue-and-white striped. Even in summer, the school blazer is to be worn on the way to school and again on the way home. Sebastian complains about this but Rebecca likes to see him wearing it.
The cars are garaged at the side of the property and a wide driveway sweeps around to the front of the house. Benson, their driver, has driven the Mercedes to the door and is standing beside it. Wearing his black suit, he is as smart as Sebastian. Once Sebastian has climbed into the back seat, Benson closes the door after him then walks around the car to get into the driver’s seat. When Sebastian was younger, Rebecca would go, too, but now that he is older, she simply waves him off.
As soon as he has gone, Rebecca walks down the road to Grace’s house. The electric gate that blocks the house from the street is highand sturdy, with spikes on top to deter agile intruders. To the side of the gate is a bell. Rebecca rings the bell once and waits. For Rebecca, this is a new thing; more often, and particularly in her line of work, she has been the one to keep others waiting. But Grace is a prompt woman and within seconds she is at the gate. She looks tired.
‘A restless night,’ she tells Rebecca, ‘that’s all.’ But her voice is flat and she seems subdued. Not that she is ever what Rebecca would call vivacious. This, in itself, is something Rebecca likes about her: that she is not a woman prone to gushing. Rather, she is a quiet woman, self-contained even, and she has told Rebecca very little about herself. Only that they had been living abroad, she and her husband, and have recently returned home. And not once has she approached Rebecca with that type of reverence so usually accorded the well-known and instantly recognised. Grace is a trained teacher, although she is now a secretary at the university where her husband, Johnson, also works.
Family money, then, Rebecca had surmised, to warrant such a house in Fallondale.
On occasion, Grace asks her in after their walk. Rebecca likes it when this happens. Today, on the way home, she is more forward than usual. Today, she invites herself in. But when Grace hesitates, she immediately regrets her boldness.
‘Actually,’ she says quickly, before Grace can respond, ‘I probably should get ready instead—it always takes me twice as long as I think.’
This isn’t true but Grace’s face relaxes when she says it. ‘Next time,’ she offers.
‘Yes,’ Rebecca replies, trying not to look disappointed, ‘next time.’
Mel
His hands wake her as they brush across her breast, before a finger starts to draw circles around her nipple. She’s tired; it’s still dark outside, for Christ’s sake.
He rolls over, then, so that his mouth is up against her ear. ‘Morning, babe,’ he whispers, his breath warm.
‘Feels like four am,’ she says, her voice croaky.
But that doesn’t stop him. Instead, his hands move down to her stomach. ‘How about I make your day?’
‘At four in the morning?’ she snorts, but her irritation is feigned. Having his hands on her always feels good. They
The pancakes, when they come, are a sight to behold. There are three of them stacked on the plate, topped with banana. Laety brings him the honeypot so he can drizzle honey over the lot. It is a messy business and Laety tucks a tea towel into his collar so that his school uniform won’t be soiled. Laety is the only person he allows to do this; or perhaps she is the only person he dares not refuse.
Sebastian has an early start on Tuesdays and he needs to be in the car by quarter to eight, which leaves him less than fifteen minutes to finish getting ready. Laety is the one to hurry him through his last mouthfuls before she whips off the tea towel and sends him to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Sebastian is in the junior school and during the summer term, the boys wear long navy shorts and knee-length socks. Their shirts are white; their ties blue-and-white striped. Even in summer, the school blazer is to be worn on the way to school and again on the way home. Sebastian complains about this but Rebecca likes to see him wearing it.
The cars are garaged at the side of the property and a wide driveway sweeps around to the front of the house. Benson, their driver, has driven the Mercedes to the door and is standing beside it. Wearing his black suit, he is as smart as Sebastian. Once Sebastian has climbed into the back seat, Benson closes the door after him then walks around the car to get into the driver’s seat. When Sebastian was younger, Rebecca would go, too, but now that he is older, she simply waves him off.
As soon as he has gone, Rebecca walks down the road to Grace’s house. The electric gate that blocks the house from the street is highand sturdy, with spikes on top to deter agile intruders. To the side of the gate is a bell. Rebecca rings the bell once and waits. For Rebecca, this is a new thing; more often, and particularly in her line of work, she has been the one to keep others waiting. But Grace is a prompt woman and within seconds she is at the gate. She looks tired.
‘A restless night,’ she tells Rebecca, ‘that’s all.’ But her voice is flat and she seems subdued. Not that she is ever what Rebecca would call vivacious. This, in itself, is something Rebecca likes about her: that she is not a woman prone to gushing. Rather, she is a quiet woman, self-contained even, and she has told Rebecca very little about herself. Only that they had been living abroad, she and her husband, and have recently returned home. And not once has she approached Rebecca with that type of reverence so usually accorded the well-known and instantly recognised. Grace is a trained teacher, although she is now a secretary at the university where her husband, Johnson, also works.
Family money, then, Rebecca had surmised, to warrant such a house in Fallondale.
On occasion, Grace asks her in after their walk. Rebecca likes it when this happens. Today, on the way home, she is more forward than usual. Today, she invites herself in. But when Grace hesitates, she immediately regrets her boldness.
‘Actually,’ she says quickly, before Grace can respond, ‘I probably should get ready instead—it always takes me twice as long as I think.’
This isn’t true but Grace’s face relaxes when she says it. ‘Next time,’ she offers.
‘Yes,’ Rebecca replies, trying not to look disappointed, ‘next time.’
Mel
His hands wake her as they brush across her breast, before a finger starts to draw circles around her nipple. She’s tired; it’s still dark outside, for Christ’s sake.
He rolls over, then, so that his mouth is up against her ear. ‘Morning, babe,’ he whispers, his breath warm.
‘Feels like four am,’ she says, her voice croaky.
But that doesn’t stop him. Instead, his hands move down to her stomach. ‘How about I make your day?’
‘At four in the morning?’ she snorts, but her irritation is feigned. Having his hands on her always feels good. They
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