Free Pillow Talk by Freya North Page A

finish off on the computer?’ And Mary wafted off muttering that she couldn't believe she didn't have time to go to a real supermarket these days.
An hour later, she reappeared. ‘Where on earth is John?’ she said. ‘I'll phone him. Back in a sec.’ But soon enough, Petra could see her in the back garden, pruning half-heartedly before sitting down to sip from a mug.
Half an hour later, John arrived back.
‘Daddy!’ clamoured his two youngest children, rushing forward. Joanna glanced up momentarily from her teen magazine.
‘Hi, Dad,’ said Petra, with an awkward half-wave, hanging back. She was always surprised at how grey her father's hair was; in between visits it automatically restored itself in her mind's eye to the darker thatch she remembered best. It had definitely thinned more too, even since her last visit before Christmas. Today he also appeared smaller around the shoulders yet more slumpy around the waist.
‘Hullo, Petra,’ he said, craning forward to kiss her cheek while Bruce and Eliza clambered around him like chimps on a trunk. ‘Sorry I'm late – you know how these things drag on.’ But Petra didn't know, because she didn't know where he'd been or what the things were that he usually did on a Saturday in early April. ‘You look well, darling. How long can you stay?’
Petra looked at her watch. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘about another hour, really. Rob's taking me to the theatre tonight.’
‘Rob?’
‘My boyfriend.’
‘The investment chappy?’
‘Yes. Him.’
‘You must bring him along next time you visit,’ John said.
‘OK,’ said Petra, wondering just now if she'd bother to visit before Christmas and wondering, very quietly, if she'd still be with Rob then anyway.
‘How's work?’
‘Great, thanks.’
‘And everything else?’
‘Yes, everything's fine, Dad, thanks.’
‘Where's Mum?’ John asked and it was instinctively on the tip of Petra's tongue to say, Still down in Kent actually I'm visiting her tomorrow – before she realized that he was asking the question of his other children.
‘Online,’ Joanna said, with a roll of her eyes.
‘Mummy,’ Eliza called.
‘She's in the garden,’ Petra told him. And off he went, followed at intervals of a minute or two by his children. Petra brought up the rear.
‘Isn't it lovely to see Petra, everyone,’ John announced. ‘Shame you have to go so soon. Next time, come for longer.’
‘And bring your boyfriend,’ Jo said.
‘OK,’ said Petra, ‘I will do.’ And it dawned on her that though she could stay until she physically needed to leave to catch a train, her visit had probably run its course already. ‘I suppose I'd better make tracks, now.’
‘Well, it's lovely to see you,’ Mary said.
‘Don't be a stranger,’ John added. ‘Come on, I'll run you to the station.’
‘It's not necessary,’ Petra told him. And John then said, ‘Well, OK then, if you're sure,’ at the same time as Petra said, ‘But a lift would be great, thanks,’ and there was a momentary stalemate during which they laughed awkwardly and wondered how to backtrack.
‘Come on, the least I can do is run you to the station,’ John said.
‘Don't dilly-dally,’ Mary warned him. ‘I've been run off my feet all day.’
John spread his palm to signify five minutes.
‘Bye, everyone,’ Petra said and the smaller children hugged her and bemoaned her leaving while Jo said, ‘See you,’ with the nonchalance characteristic of her age.
‘Great to see you,’ John said as he pulled up outside the station. ‘You look very well, darling.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ said Petra.
‘Are you OK for money?’ he asked, twisting to locate his wallet in his back pocket.
‘I'm fine, Dad,’ said Petra. ‘Thanks.’
‘Well, here,’ he said, passing over a twenty-pound note. ‘It's not much these days – but you can buy your chappy an ice cream in the interval at the theatre tonight.’
Petra felt almost euphoric as the train pulled away.
He remembered that Rob is