Free Party Games by Jo Carnegie

and greeted her with a smile. ‘All right, gorgeous?’
    ‘All right.’
    He looked mock hurt. ‘I’m not gorgeous?’
    ‘I said you’re all right,’ Catherine laughed, going round to give him a kiss. She caught the headline. TORIES FACE ABYSS AS SUPPORT CRUMBLES.
    ‘Another MP has just defected to Labour,’ he told her.
    ‘God, who’d be a Tory politician at the moment? They’re about as popular as a raging case of herpes.’
    The house phone started ringing. ‘I’ll get it,’ she said.
    It was a cold-caller, trying to sell her a stair lift. Catherine was in such a good mood she patiently endured his waffle, even wishing the man a nice day before putting the phone down. ‘I’ll start on lunch,’ she yelled out the door.
    She had spent a fortune at the deli, including a six-pound bottle of organic sparkling apple juice in a pretty glass bottle. An extravagance, but it was an occasion that should be toasted in style.
    She emptied out a tray of quails’ eggs on to a plate. Normally regular to the hour, her period was a week late. Her breasts were tender and achy and she was off her normal beloved morning cup of coffee. Smells and tastes were sharper and more pungent. She didn’t need to do a pregnancy test: her own body was telling her.
    Catherine went over to the window, where John was at the table engrossed in his iPad. As she looked at his big, dark head bent over, she felt such a rush of emotion. What would their child inherit from each of them? John’s practicality and winning smile, the ability he had to sleep through a gale-force wind? Or her flat feet and stubborn insistence on seeing anything she did through to the bitter end? The thought of him or her with their whole life in front of them: experiences, triumphs, defeats and all made her feel exhilarated and terrified in equal measure.
    Picking up the tray, she went to break the news to her husband.

Chapter 13
    It was official: Conrad and Vanessa were the hosts of that year’s Silver Box Awards.
    ‘My wife and I are delighted to be presenting such a prestigious occasion,’ Conrad said in the couple’s official statement. ‘It’s every actor’s dream.’
    In private he was equally ebullient. ‘It might just have been a few lines in someone’s office, but we all felt the magic.’ His dark eyes glistened. ‘I’m seriously expecting an Oscar nomination within two years.’
    Vanessa laughed. Conrad shot her a look.
    ‘Don’t take the piss,’ he said sharply. ‘This is a big deal for me.’
    ‘Conrad, I wasn’t …’ God, he was being serious!
    At least Dominique could be counted on to side with her son-in-law. ‘I’m sure you were wonderful, Conrad. There was never any doubt in my mind you’d get the job.’
    ‘What about me, Mother?’ Vanessa asked. ‘Are you pleased for me?’
    Dominique shot her an odd look. ‘Of course I am, Vanessa. It’s just that Conrad is the actor in the family.’
    Silly me , Vanessa thought. As if I’m anyone important .
    They were in the dining room, a vast all-white room dominated by a marbled fireplace at the far end. The greasy remains of the starter lay on the Wedgwood plates in front of them. Tonight’s pan-fried scallops had not been a great success. To make matters worse, Conrad’s wine snobbery was on fire tonight. He’d already sent two perfectly acceptable Burgundies back.
    ‘Vanessa, you’re really going to have to do something about Renata’s cooking skills,’ Dominique said. ‘This simply isn’t good enough.’
    A spark of annoyance flared inside Vanessa. ‘I’ve got an idea; why don’t you cook one night?’ And lift a bloody finger for once , she wanted to add.
    Dominique shot her daughter an icy stare across the table. Vanessa picked up her glass. Conrad was too involved in celebrating his success to notice the drop in temperature. ‘Ah, the Puligny-Montrachet from the Côte de Beaune,’ he exclaimed as Renata shuffled back in with a new bottle. He took it and