not overly so. She ’ s more reserved. His daughter is precocious, a cute little sweetheart whom I instantly fall in love with. We get on like a house on fire. Considering she ’ s just three years old, I consider that a great victory.
I get a more muted reception from Dom’s mum: outwardly kind and friendly, but sometimes I catch her looking at me warily. I guess I can’t blame her. I ’ m the dreaded tax investigator. In some ways their kindness makes me feel like an impostor. Someone who ’ s come to hurt one of them while enjoying their hospitality.
Shane was right—his mother’s roast is wicked!
And thanks to Shane and Layla, lunch is a great laugh. I look at Dom, and realize I ’ ve never seen him as relaxed as he is with his family. He catches my eyes and smiles at me. A real, genuine smile.
After the meal, I join the women in the kitchen. Layla opens the freezer and brings out a tub of gin and tonic ice cream.
She looks at me and shakes her head. ‘When I was pregnant I never had any cravings because I was so worried about my baby, but since I gave birth, I can’t stop eating this stuff. I have it made specially. It’s really delicious. Want some?’
‘Uh, no,’ I refuse politely.
‘Just have a little taste,’ she insists, coming to me with the spoon.
‘No, really. I couldn’t. I’m so full.’
‘OK. But if you change your mind, I keep a tub in Dom’s house, too,’ she offers with a smile.
‘Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.’
While Layla stuffs the spoon of ice cream into her mouth, Lily pops her head behind Layla’s and shakes it as if warning me never to try Layla’s ice cream. Hiding a smile, I turn to Dom’s mother. ‘Can I do anything to help, Mrs. Eden?’
‘No, child. Everything ’ s already done. We all just come in here so my daughter can eat her ice cream.’ She looks out of the window and then back at me. ‘It ’ s such a beautiful afternoon, I think we’ll have coffee out on the terrace.’
I smile at her. How lucky this family is. I think of my poor parents stuck in their dark, poky flat and feel a little sad for them. And then Rob is in my head, saying how life is unfair. One child born with a golden spoon in its mouth, and another born starving.
‘I really liked your family,’ I tell Dom as we make our way back to London.
He glances at me. ‘Yeah, I think they really liked you too.’
‘I especially liked Layla. She ’ s so sweet and childlike.’
‘Hmm … Don’t be fooled. Underneath all that sweetness are nerves and determination made of solid steel.’
‘Really?’
‘Absolutely. She’s very special.’
‘You’re really lucky to have them all.’
He doesn ’ t turn to look at me. ‘I know.’
There ’ s silence for a few seconds, then he says, ‘You never talk about your family.’
‘I didn’t think you’d be interested.’
His head swings around. ‘Tell me about them.’
‘Well, we ’ re four: my parents, my brother and me. My parents live in London. My father took early retirement because he ’ s plagued by all kinds of diseases, and my mother ’ s his full-time caregiver. My brother ’ s just graduated from uni and is now traveling around Asia with his girlfriend.’
He nods. ‘Are you a close family?’
‘I’m close to my parents, but my brother and I don’t get on.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t like the way he treats Mum and Dad. They have so little, and he ’ s constantly asking them for money.’
‘Do they survive on their pension alone?’
‘Not really. I help them with bits and pieces, groceries and stuff.’
His eyes swivel around. ‘On your salary?’
I shrug. ‘I manage.’
And again he looks at me as if he ’ s seeing me for the first time.
FOURTEEN
I have exactly three opportunities to trip up Nigel Broadstreet. Not because he sucks at his job—at full flow he is brilliant in a totally slippery way—but because of the things I have seen and heard while I’ve been with
I get a more muted reception from Dom’s mum: outwardly kind and friendly, but sometimes I catch her looking at me warily. I guess I can’t blame her. I ’ m the dreaded tax investigator. In some ways their kindness makes me feel like an impostor. Someone who ’ s come to hurt one of them while enjoying their hospitality.
Shane was right—his mother’s roast is wicked!
And thanks to Shane and Layla, lunch is a great laugh. I look at Dom, and realize I ’ ve never seen him as relaxed as he is with his family. He catches my eyes and smiles at me. A real, genuine smile.
After the meal, I join the women in the kitchen. Layla opens the freezer and brings out a tub of gin and tonic ice cream.
She looks at me and shakes her head. ‘When I was pregnant I never had any cravings because I was so worried about my baby, but since I gave birth, I can’t stop eating this stuff. I have it made specially. It’s really delicious. Want some?’
‘Uh, no,’ I refuse politely.
‘Just have a little taste,’ she insists, coming to me with the spoon.
‘No, really. I couldn’t. I’m so full.’
‘OK. But if you change your mind, I keep a tub in Dom’s house, too,’ she offers with a smile.
‘Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.’
While Layla stuffs the spoon of ice cream into her mouth, Lily pops her head behind Layla’s and shakes it as if warning me never to try Layla’s ice cream. Hiding a smile, I turn to Dom’s mother. ‘Can I do anything to help, Mrs. Eden?’
‘No, child. Everything ’ s already done. We all just come in here so my daughter can eat her ice cream.’ She looks out of the window and then back at me. ‘It ’ s such a beautiful afternoon, I think we’ll have coffee out on the terrace.’
I smile at her. How lucky this family is. I think of my poor parents stuck in their dark, poky flat and feel a little sad for them. And then Rob is in my head, saying how life is unfair. One child born with a golden spoon in its mouth, and another born starving.
‘I really liked your family,’ I tell Dom as we make our way back to London.
He glances at me. ‘Yeah, I think they really liked you too.’
‘I especially liked Layla. She ’ s so sweet and childlike.’
‘Hmm … Don’t be fooled. Underneath all that sweetness are nerves and determination made of solid steel.’
‘Really?’
‘Absolutely. She’s very special.’
‘You’re really lucky to have them all.’
He doesn ’ t turn to look at me. ‘I know.’
There ’ s silence for a few seconds, then he says, ‘You never talk about your family.’
‘I didn’t think you’d be interested.’
His head swings around. ‘Tell me about them.’
‘Well, we ’ re four: my parents, my brother and me. My parents live in London. My father took early retirement because he ’ s plagued by all kinds of diseases, and my mother ’ s his full-time caregiver. My brother ’ s just graduated from uni and is now traveling around Asia with his girlfriend.’
He nods. ‘Are you a close family?’
‘I’m close to my parents, but my brother and I don’t get on.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t like the way he treats Mum and Dad. They have so little, and he ’ s constantly asking them for money.’
‘Do they survive on their pension alone?’
‘Not really. I help them with bits and pieces, groceries and stuff.’
His eyes swivel around. ‘On your salary?’
I shrug. ‘I manage.’
And again he looks at me as if he ’ s seeing me for the first time.
FOURTEEN
I have exactly three opportunities to trip up Nigel Broadstreet. Not because he sucks at his job—at full flow he is brilliant in a totally slippery way—but because of the things I have seen and heard while I’ve been with
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