I was tired, grumpy and craved carbs. No mystery: wine! John was already up when I got downstairs. "I was just about to bring you up a cup of tea," he said.
"Ta," I said, taking it from him. "What happened to you last night?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you were pretty shifty when you got back from your mother's. You're not doing a Charlie on me, are you? I'm not gonna find out you've been in the Costa pull-in with …."
"Stop being stupid, Daisy! Of course not."
"Jeez. I was just kidding. My French Fancies had a pasting though, by the looks."
"Stop going on about your French Fancies. I dropped them, that's all."
"Off a cliff, by the look of them."
"What's left of them. Weren't there eight in there last night? Toast?"
"Ta."
I seemed to find so much to do this morning - laundry, dishes, hoovering. All the while my laptop winked at me from the corner of the kitchen. At midday, when yet another message from Antonio pinged through to my phone, I took it as a sign that I could avoid my work situation no longer. There wasn't much to be gleaned from his messages. They were just telling me what I already knew (that Olivia wasn't happy) and to get in touch with him or read my emails. I decided that I'd log on. After we'd had lunch.
Strangely, there was only one unopened email. It was however, worse than I thought. It was from Victoria herself. I shut my laptop down immediately and went out to the garden to trampoline with the twins. 🙈🙉
Every Thursday evening, the clapping seemed to be getting more and more flamboyant. Now there were car horns, bells, musical instruments, a juggler and a big-ass firework that sent the cat running up the curtains, fur standing on end. If I'd have gone back into the house a fraction of a second earlier, I wouldn't have seen it: the look that passed between John and Gordon. Gordon threw an almost hostile look John's way. John clocked it, then hurried into the house. It was enough to make me pause on the doorstep. Was this still about the underpants incident? Surely not. THEN I heard Margaret say, "Come on Gordon. Let's get you inside. I don't want a fuss out here."
"What was wrong with Gordon?" I asked, finding John filling the kettle in the kitchen.
"What do you mean?"
"He gave you a filthy look. What's his beef?"
"Christ Daisy! You've been on at me all day. It's like living with Miss bloody Marple. Give it a rest!"
"I just ….." Then I thought of Victoria's email, sitting unopened in my inbox. I shut my mouth.
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