Free The Fantastic Book of Everybody's Secrets by Sophie Hannah

cent happy with our new family, we won’t leave the children with them. Okay?’
    â€˜Okay,’ said Tom, though he was far from it. Thinking back over the way Selena had constructed her sentence, it seemed to him that she had snuck in the ‘new family’ part; there was no suggestion that Tom might be able to veto these solicited relatives, either as individuals or collectively, as a theoretical proposition. He would have a say only in whether or not to leave the children with them. But he knew Selena well and shewas not sneaky. She was straightforward. If she made the new family sound non-negotiable, that was because it was. Selena was drawing this feature of the situation to Tom’s attention, not trying to disguise it.
    He knew there was no point arguing. New relatives would be sought on his behalf, even as he protested. He prayed that everybody in Tesco this afternoon would be too busy to look at the notice board. First thing tomorrow morning, on his way to work, he would nip in and take the advert down.
    â€˜So, it’ll be fine,’ Selena concluded. ‘I’m really quite excited about the whole thing. How was your day? Your morning?’
    Tom decided not to tell her about Nora Connaughton’s memo or his response. It would sound pathetic. Big deal, he’d taken a veiled pop at his boss. Had he really expected Selena to applaud his bravery? She’d spent the morning judging and firing their close relations, and sending out for new ones. She was a woman of action; how could Tom expect her to appreciate the subtle nuances of his way of doing things?
    As it turned out, he didn’t have a chance to answer. The phone in the sales office rang, and Selena picked it up. ‘Beddford Homes, how may I help you?’ she recited in a singsong voice. Then, sounding interested and genuine all of a sudden, she said, ‘Yes, it is. Oh, you saw my advert? Brilliant! Thanks so much for ringing.’
    Tom’s gut quaked. The first aspiring substitute relative had made contact.

    There was an email from Nora waiting for Tom the following day. She made no reference to his enquiry about her health.
    From [email protected]
    To: [email protected], Cc: [email protected], [email protected].
    Dear Tom
    In future, please could you let me know if you plan to work from home? It’s just that it makes life easier for me if I know where staff are. Last Thursday, for example, Nathan asked me if I knew where he might find you, and I, in all innocence, directed him to your office. Glad to see Burns Gimblett is progressing nicely – well done!
    Best wishes, Nora.
    Tom resisted the urge to spit at his computer screen. So now she was copying in not only Gillian, but Imrana from Human Resources, the department that dealt with grievances, internal wrangles, hirings and firings. The subliminal message was unequivocal – it was rather like receiving a message from God, cc The Grim Reaper, suggesting that you might want to visit the doctor for a routine check-up. As for the mock-jovial line about Burns Gimblett – did Nora think Tom was an idiot? Did she imagine that a dollop of praise at the end cancelled out the needling tone of the rest, the subtle bullying, the warning-masquerading-as-humble-request?
    Tom gave it some thought and decided that of course she didn’t. She knew what game they were playing, and she knew he knew. The email’s upbeat last line was not intended to make Tom feel better; rather, it was a shield for Nora, who was evidently too gutless to say what she meant and take the consequences. Part of her wanted Tom to like her, even as she plotted to bring him down. This, he realised, gave him a certain amount of power.
    He decided to reply by letter, to make it clear that there was nothing casual about his response. ‘ Dear Nora ’, he typed, despising her. Of course, he too was averse to saying what he meant, but for that