Free All That Mullarkey by Sue Moorcroft

look from under her eyelashes. ‘He’s been really funny. Even Mum’s noticed how moody he is, always wanting to be on his own. Half the time he doesn’t answer when I speak to him.’
    Not everybody did want to hang on Yvonne’s words, of course, and particularly not Gav, who still had a very adolescent relationship with his sister. ‘Maybe it’s his time of the month,’ Cleo cracked. Oh yes, her own period was due. That probably explained her headache. And she’d brought nothing with her. Shit. Hopefully it would hold off until tomorrow when she could shop. And then, seeing her sister-in-law’s uncertain frown, ‘It was a joke , Yvonne! I know Gav doesn’t really have periods.’
    Yvonne’s face cleared. She giggled.
    Despite the fact that he’d been commissioned to fetch a takeaway, Gav stretched on the silky quilt and watched Cleo brush her hair. ‘How about going home tomorrow?’
    ‘Fine. Are you going to fetch the food soon? My head aches.’
    Gav didn’t move. ‘Mum says she’ll be OK. Dad’s coming home on Monday. Best to leave them alone.’
    ‘Maybe we could do them a big shop before we go.’ Lunch was ages ago. Visions of prawns in black bean sauce were making her salivate. Her headache was worsening as her stomach felt more and more hollow.
    With the toe of one foot, Gav prised his trainer off the other. It clonked onto the rose-splashed carpet.
    Cleo trod into her own shoes and picked up her keys. ‘I’ll go for the food.’
    With a sigh, Gav rolled to his feet and retrieved his shoe. ‘OK, OK, I get the message! Heaven forbid I should chill for a minute.’ Dull colour heated his face.
    Cleo jingled her keys. ‘The only message is that I’m very hungry. I’m quite happy to go. Chill as long as you want.’
    ‘I said I’ll go !’ He brushed past her, shaking his head.
    Down in the kitchen, when Cleo clattered in and slid plates into the oven to warm, Pauline roused herself from sitting in the rocking chair and stared gently at nothing. ‘Was that Gavin going? I’m sorry I didn’t have a meal ready for you, Cleo. Whatever must you think?’
    Cleo studied the lines of anxiety and fatigue on Pauline’s face. ‘Don’t worry. You’re shattered. Let’s just be glad George is on the mend.’
    Pauline knocked hastily on wood. ‘Thankfully. I’ll be OK when he’s home and all the toing and froing is over. It took poor Gavin forty-five minutes to drive the thirteen miles today. What with the lights and the ring road.’
    Cleo wiped the table and went to the cutlery drawer. ‘We’re thinking about going home tomorrow, leaving you in peace. Or do you want us to stay to drive you to hospital?’
    ‘I’m quite happy to go at my own pace and bring George home on Monday. You get off, it’s probably best. I think Gavin’s had enough of us. He’s been a bit …’ Pauline ended with a vague wave of her hand. Her hair was flattened at the back and Cleo missed her mother-in-law’s usual combed and lipsticked smartness.
    She hunted for the salt and pepper. ‘I thought we could do a big shop, before we leave. One less thing for you to worry over.’ She tracked the condiments down to a narrow cupboard, on a plate to collect spills. Probably a spot of Yvonne reorganisation; only Yvonne would reorganise someone else’s kitchen.
    Pauline heaved herself up and slid an affectionate arm around Cleo. ‘You spoil me. Thank you, darling. And I haven’t even asked how you are or if the motorway was awful.’
    ‘I’m fine.’ Her headache would go when she’d eaten. Or when her period began.
    Pauline dropped her cheek onto Cleo’s shoulder for a weary moment. ‘I’m just desperate for everything to be normal again. It doesn’t seem much to ask.’
    But sometimes too much. ‘I know what you mean.’
    The night was close and Cleo woke up clammy, Gav’s arm hot, heavy and trapping her, his body touching hers all the way up. She tried to ease away but found herself already at the edge of