Free Sleeping Arrangements by Madeleine Wickham Page A

reply, and she raised a hand to halt him. 'Just . . . let's just you do your thing, and we'll do our thing. All right?
    And maybe this will work out.'
    'I'd really like to talk,' said Hugh. 'I'd really like to have a chance to—'
    'Yes well, I'd like a lot of things,' said Chloe, cutting him off. And before he could reply she walked away, leaving him alone in the evening twilight.

CHAPTER FIVE
    The next morning, Hugh felt bleary and exhausted. He had found a bottle of Rioja the night before which he had proceeded almost singlehandedly to consume, telling himself he was on holiday. Now he lay on a recliner, a sunhat over his face, flinching every time a pinprick of light found its way through the mesh onto his closed eyelids. As though from a distance he could hear Amanda's voice, and occasionally Jenna's in reply.
    'Remember to put sun cream on the girls' necks,' she was saying. 'And the backs of their legs.'
    'Sure.'
    'And the soles of their feet.'
    'Already done.'
    'Are you sure?' Hugh was vaguely aware of Amanda sitting up on the recliner next to him.
    'I don't want to take any risks.'
    'Mrs Stratton—' Jenna's voice sounded deliberately controlled. 'One thing I do know about is the dangers of the sun. I'm not about to take any risks either.'
    'Good. Well.' There was a pause, then Amanda lay back down on her recliner. 'So,' she said in a low voice to Hugh. 'No sign of them yet.'
    'Who?' murmured Hugh without opening his eyes.
    'Them. The others. I have to say, I've no idea how it's all going to work out.'
    Hugh removed his hat. Squinting in the sun, he struggled to a sitting position and looked at Amanda. 'What do you mean, "work out"?' he said. 'Here's the pool, here are the chairs, there's the sun . . .'
    'I just mean . . .' Amanda frowned slightly. 'It might be awkward.'
    'I don't see why,' said Hugh, watching as Jenna led Octavia and Beatrice down the shallow steps into the pool. 'I spoke to . . .' He paused. 'To Chloe. The wife.' He looked at Amanda. 'Last night, when you were bathing the girls.'
    'Really? What did she say?'
    'They want to do their own thing as much as us. There's no reason why we should get in each other's way.'
    'We got in each other's way last night, didn't we?' said Amanda tightly. 'Last night was a bloody fiasco!'
    Hugh shrugged and lay down again, closing his eyes. He had not been present in the kitchen the night before; had not witnessed the incident Amanda was referring to. Philip and Jenna had apparently each begun preparing supper for their respective families with their eye on the same chicken. At some point they had discovered this fact. (Had they reached for the chicken at the same time? Hugh now wondered. Had their hands collided around its neck? Or had it been more a slow, dawning realization?) As far as he could make out, Philip had immediately offered to find a substitute for his own dish and Jenna had gratefully thanked him.
    Hardly a fiasco, in his eyes. But Amanda had taken this little event as confirmation that the entire holiday was to be ruined—indeed, had already been ruined. As they had eaten their supper in the dining room (Philip and Chloe had taken theirs outside to the terrace), she had repeated this opinion over and over in different variations, until Hugh could bear no more. He had retired to the balcony of their bedroom with his bottle of wine and had slowly drunk it down, until the sky was dark overhead. When he had come inside, Amanda was in bed, already asleep in front of a cable mini-series.
    'Here we go.' Amanda's low voice interrupted his thoughts. 'Here they come.' She raised her voice. 'Morning!'
    'Morning,' Hugh heard Philip reply.
    'Lovely day,' came Chloe's voice.
    'Isn't it?' said Amanda brightly. 'Absolutely stunning weather.'
    There was silence, and Amanda lay down again.
    'At least they aren't trying to chuck us off our sun-beds,' she said in an undertone to Hugh.
    'Not yet, anyway.' There was a pause, filled by the creaking of her recliner as she