Free Swimming Pool Sunday by Sophie Kinsella, Madeleine Wickham

unhurriedly. Then she put it away, smiled, and regarded Louise lazily again from under azure-painted lids.
    ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘you must come over to dinner sometime, Louise … you and, of course, Cassian.’
    ‘Yes, that would be nice,’ said Louise hesitantly. She lay back in her chair, closed her eyes, and tried unsuccessfully to imagine herself actually attending a dinner party with Cassian as her acknowledged partner. The Law Society dinner, a fortnight ago, had been different. That was in London; no-one there knew or cared what their background story was. She’d gone as Cassian’s guest, eaten four courses, listened intelligently to the speeches, joined in the discussion, even put one of Cassian’s colleagues right on some political point. It had been a wonderful evening. But that had been in London, not here in Melbrook, in front of Barnaby, in front of all of them. Village events – even private dinner parties – were not the same thing at all. To go anywhere publicly with Cassian would be at best uncomfortable, at worst a fiasco. Sylvia should realize that, thought Louise. Then, looking sidelong at Sylvia’s faint smirk, it occurred to her that Sylvia already did.
    Meredith awoke to find the sun behind a cloud and an empty place beside her. Alexis must have gone for a stroll, she thought. She lifted herself up on her elbows and blinked sleepily. Cast in a sudden shade, the pool appeared chilly; the sleek wet heads of the swimmers bobbed darkly amid dull blue-grey waves, and the splashing and shrieks of the children seemed to have risen in volume.
    She pushed her hair back, sat up cross-legged on her chair and stretched out languorously like a panther. Then, mid-stretch, she froze. There, in front of her, was Alexis, in the water. Alexis, who famously never swam. She stared at him. His hair was wet and he was inefficiently treading water, and he was smiling at someone.
    Hating herself, Meredith casually lay back down onher chair and reached for her sunglasses. The black-tinted lenses made everything around her seem even more gloomy, but at least with them on she could stare inconspicuously at Alexis and whoever it was he was talking to; still talking to – and still smiling at.
    From the bathing-suit it appeared to be a woman, but her face was turned away from Meredith. Without really intending to, Meredith swiftly catalogued all the women of the village that it could be, dismissing each in turn with a snap judgement. Too old. Too bossy. Too married . Then, as the nameless woman began to turn in the water, a sudden realization hit her mind, flooding it with relief. It wasn’t a woman, it was the dippy girl; the klutzy teenager. Daisy … Daisy Phillips.
    Filled with a sudden lightness, she stood up, approached the pool and dived in.
    ‘Hi, Alexis,’ she said, surfacing near the pair of them. ‘Hi, Daisy.’ Alexis gave Daisy a surprised look.
    ‘You know Meredith?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Daisy hesitantly. ‘At least, I didn’t know she was called Meredith; sorry,’ she stumbled, turning to Meredith, ‘I mean, I didn’t know you were called Meredith. Thank you very much,’ she added, ‘for letting me use your room.’
    As Daisy came to the end of this halting little speech, Meredith raised her eyebrows sardonically and tried to catch Alexis’s eye. But he was still gazing at Daisy in apparent fascination.
    ‘Oh, that’s OK,’ said Meredith, in friendly playing-along tones. ‘Any time.’ She registered, in slight disbelief, that Alexis was turning and smiling at her, as though thanking her. What the hell for? Who was this kid to him? A surrogate daughter?
    ‘Feel free to use my room at the end of the day if you want to,’ she offered, adding a cheery grin for good measure. The girl, Daisy, smiled gratefully at her. Andthen, like a fucking mirror image, so did Alexis. What’s going on here? Meredith wanted to shout. Next I’ll be asking this loopy girl if she wants to come bake cookies