Free Over You by Lucy Diamond Page A

her eyes fixed upon Lisa. The smell of bacon turned her stomach now, and the photo felt heavy in her hand. That look in Lisa’s eyes, that flicker of reaction – Josie had caught it before it was wiped clean. Something was going on. ‘I mean, I’ve never even seen this picture before. When was it taken?’
    ‘How should I know?’ Lisa asked, pouring coffee into a mug, her back to Josie. ‘He’s your husband, not mine. I can’t keep track of him!’
    ‘Yes, but I found it in your house,’ Josie said uncertainly. She was trying to catch Lisa’s eye but Lisa was busying herself stirring in milk and rinsing the teaspoon.
    ‘Where did you find it?’ Nell asked, coming over to Josie. ‘Can I see?’
    ‘It’s just a photo of Pete,’ Josie said, handing it to her. ‘It was under the bed. I wasn’t poking around,’ she added hastily. ‘I knocked my make-up bag off the side and everything spilled, and I was just gathering all my bits and bobs that had rolled under the bed, when—’
    ‘There you are, then,’ Lisa put in, flipping the bacon deftly.
    ‘What?’ Josie asked.
    ‘It must have been in your make-up bag,’ Lisa replied. She put down the spatula and handed Josie the mug of coffee. ‘Don’t you see? The photo must have been in your bag all along, and fell out with your other things. Pete obviously put it in there before you left, to surprise you. How sweet!’
    ‘How sweet,’ Josie echoed uncertainly, warming her hands on the mug. Could that really have been what had happened? She wanted to believe Lisa was telling her the truth. But wouldn’t she have noticed the photo last night when she was getting ready to go out?
    ‘Aw, how romantic is that?’ Nell said, passing the photo back. ‘He didn’t want you to miss him. Bless!’
    Josie sipped her coffee, trying to make sense of it all. If the photo had been right at the bottom of her makeup bag, there was a chance she wouldn’t have seen it last night. After all, she’d brought tons of slap with her, most of which she hadn’t even used. So the photo could easily have been underneath it all, unnoticed, she supposed . . .
    And, if she was honest, she did like the idea of Pete choosing a snapshot of himself, trimming it to fit in the small frame and hiding it in her bag. It was the sort of thing he might have done back when they were first seeing each other, in those heady romantic days. The thought that he could have done it again, after seven years of marriage . . . Well, it was lovely, wasn’t it? What a thoughtful gesture.
    Lisa was right. It was sweet. Romantic.
    ‘Bacon sandwich?’ Lisa asked pleasantly, and the conversation was closed.
    Josie stared out of the window as the city sped past. It was eleven-thirty now, and the sun glittered on the Thames, bouncing off all the glass riverfront buildings with a thousand different sparkles. It tricked you like that, London, showed you its best side just as you were leaving it behind.
    Now the train was hurtling through a maze of terraces, thundering through Battersea and Wandsworth Common and on towards Crystal Palace. Rows and rows of streets and houses and lives, all packed in together. She saw a barbecue in one garden, children playing on swings in another. A barking black Labrador bounced after a ball on somebody’s lawn, washing lines were full and fluttering, back doors and windows open to let in the sun. Lawns were being mown, flowerbeds tended. Inside, in the coolness of shaded rooms, young couples would be entwined in bed still, curtains drawn against the day. And in busy kitchens, Sunday lunch was being chopped and boiled and roasted, while children wound about their parents, droning, ‘Is it nearly ready? I’m starving! I’m THIS hungry!’
    Josie took out her mobile, planning to call Pete and let him know when her train was due in. She’d originally thought she’d have lunch with her friends and head home this afternoon, but Lisa had made her apologies after breakfast,