Free The Love Shack by Jane Costello Page A

needed saying – but just to be clear, I don’t need to be tucked in. Thanks.’
    ‘Oh, talk about Mr Grumpy!’ she exclaims. ‘Gemma, have some black pudding.’ I attempt to stick my fork in a piece but it’s as hard as the Kray Twins.
    ‘Mum, look,’ he adds, far more patiently than I’d be if my mum pulled something like this, ‘you know how grateful we are to be here. I’m just saying, we’d appreciate a bit of privacy. That’s all.’
    She purses her lips. ‘If you’re referring to yesterday evening, it was Sabrina who shouted up to you while you were –you know, at it.’ She winks pointedly and I study my plate, my neck flushing a similar colour to the streaky bacon. ‘I told her off immediately, then turned the volume up on Kool and The Gang so you could do whatever took your fancy.’
    Dan puts his head in his hands. I tentatively reach out for the beans and try, with several hard thrusts, to spoon some on my plate. Then I add eggs and a blackened mass that I think are baked tomatoes.
    Dan starts munching his Cheerios as I struggle with the burnt offerings. ‘Wouldn’t you prefer Cheerios, Gemma?’ he suggests diplomatically. ‘I know how much you love them. Gemma loves cereal,’ he adds.
    I perk up. ‘Oh, that’d be lov—’
    ‘Of course she wouldn’t,’ Belinda interrupts, picking up the box, standing and putting it back into the cupboard.
    ‘Er, I’ll help you out,’ Dan says, and starts piling his plate up. He picks up a piece of under-cooked sausage on his fork and examines it. We make eye-contact but say nothing.
    ‘Everything okay?’ Belinda asks.
    Dan swallows. ‘Lovely. Thanks for this, Mum.’ He takes a bite of some bacon and chews it slowly. It has the consistency of a mummified flip-flop.
    ‘So this book,’ he begins. ‘When are they publishing it?’
    ‘November,’ she says. ‘There’s still lots to do but the publishers are already thinking about covers and the publicity plan. I’m going to have an intensive schedule – interviews, photo shoots . . . ooh, you could be in one if you fancy it? Hello! would definitely go for it.’
    ‘Do you still actually believe all that stuff?’ he asks, putting down his fork.
    She frowns. ‘Why do you talk about my work as if it’s some nonsense? It’s highly respected in some quarters. And it’s helped empower women all over the world.’
    A few minutes later, when Dan stands up to clear away the dishes, Belinda looks at my plate and gasps, ‘Don’t tell me that’s all you’re eating!’
    ‘I’m absolutely stuffed,’ I lie. ‘But thanks, Belinda – it was lovely. You didn’t need to go to all that effort.’
    ‘Oh, we’ll do this every weekend,’ she promises. ‘Make it a new Sunday-morning tradition.’ Dan’s jaw twitches. I’m fairly convinced he’d have preferred to stick to the sex.
    The grounds of Buddington Hall are like something out of a nineteenth-century romance, with swirling pathways, lush lawns, terraces, a strawberry patch behind the house and a small rose garden abundant with scent. But Dan’s favourite part is the small lake at the furthest point from the house, reached via ivy-clad steps and flanked by a curtain of greenery.
    ‘Fancy a dip?’ It’s a warm, sunny spring morning, but I’m still not tempted.
    ‘Not my cup of tea,’ I reply. ‘You, on the other hand, are very welcome to go in.’
    ‘You’ll do anything to see me naked,’ he smirks, peeling off his top.
    I refuse to react to the sight of his torso as he strides to the lake’s edge, in the aussieBum undies I bought him for Christmas. He slips in and powers through the water to the willow tree that drapes along the opposite bank, before turning round and swimming to the middle.
    ‘You don’t know what you’re missing,’ he shouts, treading water.
    ‘I’d prefer to spectate than get plankton in my knickers, thanks.’
    I lie back on the grass, resting my head in my hands as I look up at the sky, luxuriating