Free The Holiday Home by Fern Britton Page B

liberation flood through him. He had the whole afternoon undisturbed with his phone and Janie.
    *
    Connie, too, was feeling liberated as she sauntered along the path to the beach. An afternoon with no responsibilities. Bliss! No need to talk, listen or do anything but lie down and read or sleep.
    ‘Connie, wait for me.’ A familiar voice broke into her bubble. Connie kept walking.
    ‘Connie!’ Irritation in the call now. ‘I said wait!’
    Connie breathed deeply, stopped and turned. Pru was at the top of the path, closing the garden gate. She looked cross and hot as she drew level with Connie.
    ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were off to the beach? You knew I’d have said I’d come.’
    ‘Yes, I did know, but actually I was hoping for a bit of peace and quiet.’
    ‘Oh, me too. Don’t you find Mummy’s endless chatter and sparring with Daddy awfully wearing?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And the kids! They’re good kids, I know, but the noise, the mess – it’s exhausting.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And now Francis has decided to take to his bed. I just had to get out of the house.’
    ‘Yes.’
    They found themselves a sheltered spot of dry sand in the sunshine and rolled out their towels, smoothing them to remove any wrinkles and sitting down gently so as not to get any sand on them.
    Connie slipped out of her shorts and top to reveal a well-cut bikini and curvy thighs. She picked up her book and began to read.
    ‘What are you reading?’
    ‘Something from my book club.’
    ‘You’re lucky to have the time.’
    ‘To read or join a book club?’
    ‘Both.’
    Pru unpopped the fastenings on her stripy beach robe and rolled it up carefully to use as a pillow. She was wearing a one piece in navy and white.
    ‘I don’t like bikinis,’ she said pointedly. ‘Not at our age.’
    ‘I am not your age.’
    ‘You know what I mean.’
    Pru reached into her bag for sun cream, factor 50, and made a huge amount of slapping noise as she put it on.
    ‘Would you put some on my back?’
    ‘OK.’ Wearily, Connie put her book down, sat up and creamed her sister’s white and bony back.
    ‘Thank you,’ Pru said. ‘Would you like me to do you?’
    ‘No thanks,’ said Connie, settling down again. ‘I want to go brown.’
    ‘The sun is so ageing to one’s skin. You should look after yours.’
    ‘I’m wearing factor 15.’
    ‘Not high enough.’
    ‘It’s Cornwall, not Africa.’
    ‘I’m only saying.’
    ‘Sorry. Look, I want to read my book, OK?’
    ‘I’m not stopping you.’ Pru plonked a ridiculous orange floral floppy hat on her head and lay down.
    Connie waited in case her sister had anything else to say, but she stayed silent. Breathing a sigh of relief, Connie started reading again. Pru began to snore. Heaving a sigh, Connie dropped her book and closed her eyes. Within minutes she was snoring too.
    When they woke up, the sun was a little lower and the tide was on its way in. They moved their towels further up the beach. As they settled, a light breeze picked up and Pru shivered. She put her robe back on.
    ‘Are you worried about Francis?’ Connie asked Pru. ‘He certainly isn’t looking very well.’
    Pru looked at her as if she were mad.
    ‘No. Why should I be? He’s fine.’
    ‘He seemed a bit tired and distracted.’
    ‘What has he got to distract him?’
    ‘You tell me.’
    ‘I am telling you: nothing. He’s fine. Probably wants a bit of attention.’
    ‘Maybe he wants your attention.’
    ‘Poor Francis, not getting any sex? Is that what you’re trying to say?’
    ‘Yes. No. Well, yes.’
    ‘Francis is as little inclined as I am. It’s something that we used to do and don’t need to do any more. We’ve grown up.’
    ‘So, grown-ups aren’t allowed to have sex?’
    ‘Exactly.’
    ‘But Greg and I have sex.’
    ‘Yes. And look at Greg. He’s not exactly a grown-up, is he?’
    Connie propped herself up on her elbows and looked at her sister. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’
    Pru