Читать книгу My Husband’s Lies: An unputdownable read, perfect for book group reading - Caroline England, Caroline England - Страница 10

Jen

‘The sea, Daddy! The sea.’

Though the grey ocean merges with the dirty sky, Anna has spotted it from the back seat of the Kenning family car.

Ian glances at the clock, then takes a left turn towards the seafront. ‘Let’s take a quick look,’ he replies.

‘Oh God, we’re going to be late,’ Maria groans loudly.

Jen counts to five, then tries for her even voice. ‘No we’re not; and don’t say God, Maria, you’re only thirteen, not thirty.’

‘We’re always late and it’s so embarrassing. If it was me—’

‘Enough, Maria,’ Ian interrupts from the driver’s seat. ‘It’s Nick and Lisa’s wedding day. Mum’s school friends will be there, so let’s try to be happy and have fun. OK, love? We’re nearly there now. Just enough time to see the waves. See how they crash against the promenade.’

Jen glances at her husband. ‘Think someone came to Aberystwyth as a boy,’ she comments dryly. Maria is right; they will be late, but there’s no use arguing. Though mostly easy-going, when Ian’s mind is set, it’s best to follow his lead. And besides, Maria and Holly’s windows are already down, the wind buffeting their neat wedding hair.

‘Tastes of fish,’ Holly says, licking her lips. ‘Your go, Anna.’

Anna climbs onto Holly’s knee and hangs out of the window, returning after a few seconds with more than wet lips.

‘OK, enough now. Seat belts back on,’ Jen says, trying not to think of how long it took to plait, curl and straighten three sets of hair, but quietly pleased their diversion has thrown the smug satnav. When it finally rallies and they arrive at the church, the bridal limousine has just beaten them into the car park.

‘Don’t worry,’ Ian grins, looking at Jen. ‘You took ages to get out of the wedding car. You needed a crane, if I remember.’

‘Cheeky sod,’ she replies. ‘You weren’t even there. You were in the church longing for your beautiful bride to appear. It was the hoops at the bottom of the dress, actually. They took some manoeuvring. But you’re right; Lisa won’t be jumping out of the car and into this horrible weather without a million umbrellas. Park up and we’ll sneak in ahead.’

Finally settled in their pew, Jen lifts her hand to Penny and Geri across the aisle, conscious that her windswept girls have accidentally sat on the bride’s side.

‘Why is Penny staring and who is that fat woman sitting next to her?’ Anna asks from under the brim of her hat.

‘She’s not fat, she’s pregnant, Anna. That’s Geri, Dan’s girlfriend. You’ve met her before. And keep your voice down, love.’

Her eight-year-old studies Geri for a few moments before turning back. ‘She’s not as handsome as Dan, but I like her hat. What colour will the baby be?’ she whispers.

‘A beautiful colour,’ Jen replies. She leans forward to study Holly who’s predictably sitting next to her dad and peering at his mobile. ‘Are you all right now? Feeling better?’

Despite the fishy shower, she thinks her middle daughter looks pale. The girls had a puking virus which lasted two days, but Holly was sick again after breakfast, or so she said. Jen dashed up to the bathroom, but the toilet had been flushed, the only sign of vomit being a large wet patch on the front of the pretty satin dress Holly didn’t like. She didn’t quite get her wish to sport trousers, preferably jeans, but the dress she’s wearing is far from the floaty creation Jen had wanted all three to wear.

‘Struggling with puberty, poor lamb,’ her mum says of Holly, but Jen wouldn’t know. When she was twelve, she’d just started at St Mark’s. She loved growing up and all that went with it, especially the attention from the A Team boys. ‘The honorary boy,’ Nick’s mum used to describe her. ‘Yeah, one with tits,’ Dan, Will or Nick would quietly snigger.

The sudden rich peal of Mendelssohn interrupts her fond memories. Ian rises and takes her hand. ‘Here we go, love. Got the tissues ready?’ he asks with a grin.

‘Cheeky sod,’ she replies, smiling. But she catches Holly’s slender arms as she stands. Not just the vomiting, she’s spider-thin too. The sick bug, of course, the virus.

Shaking her head, she turns to the doors. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. Just a routine illness.

Surely?