Free Life Begins by Amanda Brookfield Page B

thing going and I tried today to tell him that we haven’t but now he’s gone and found me this totally perfect house in Chalkdown Road so I really don’t feel I can ditch him altogether.’
    ‘A house!’ exclaimed Theresa, over the laughter of the other two. ‘But that’s fantastic news. So long, I suppose, as you have a buyer for yours…’ She tailed off, glancing round the freshly painted walls and carefully selected furnishings of her sitting room, thinking how loath she would feel to part with it.
    ‘That’s the point. It looks as if I might have. She’s called Mrs Burgess and Tim’s sure she’s keen.’ Charlotte chattered on, loving the feeling of relaxing properly, of being part of the old circle at last. ‘It’s more a cottage than a house – there’s all this lovely jasmine in the front garden and a bedroom balcony and two dear little stained-glass windows in the hall. The owner said they might not go with Tim’sagency, which would be bad for him but not the end of the world for me, now I know where it is and how much I like it. And it would be so good for Sam to have a fresh start. He’d be able to walk to school, of course, and we’d be so near the park I’ve been thinking we might even get a dog…’
    ‘Whoa there – a dog?’ cried Theresa, raising both arms to stop the flow. ‘But what about your job in the bookshop and keeping it entertained? Anyway, you hate dogs.’
    ‘Correction: I hate my mother’s dog for being dull and overfed and spoilt. And my job at Ravens is only part-time. And Sam has always wanted a dog. And at the moment Sam is –’ Charlotte stopped abruptly. She had drunk far too much, she realized, with some surprise, carefully setting down her wine glass. She had been on the verge, stupid goat that she was, of mentioning the very subject she had privately vowed to avoid. Miss Hornby had said they were on top of the situation. Martin would almost certainly agree with that view. The last thing she wanted was for these dear friends to think that, with clear water ahead of her, she was still finding cause to be unhappy; that with one major worry solved she was immediately on the track of another. And how would it sound, anyway, to tell the mothers of Pattie and George, Sam’s two oldest friends, that she suspected some sort of foul play? ‘Sam is still so… unsettled,’ she finished lamely, looking round for her handbag.
    ‘Sam will be all right,’ coaxed Theresa, gently. ‘He’s still… adjusting, that’s all.’
    ‘And children are so adaptable,’ put in Josephine, brightly, slipping her feet back into her shoes and nodding at Naomi, who had promised to give her a ride home.
    ‘Of course they are,’ echoed Naomi, unhooking her handbag from the back of her chair and standing up.
    After their farewells, and having double-checked the stateof the downstairs loo before she allowed Charlotte to enter it, Theresa sought out her husband in the den.
    ‘I’m not asleep,’ he croaked, waggling the two feet she could see sticking up over the end of the sofa. ‘Is it safe to come out?’ He peered over the back in the manner of a soldier checking the edge of a trench.
    ‘Ssh,’ Theresa scolded fondly, pressing her fingers to her lips. ‘The others have gone but Charlotte is in the loo. I want to invite her to a Sunday lunch – her and Sam.’
    ‘Of course.’ Henry pushed his fingers up under his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
    ‘Because George and Sam appear to have fallen out and getting them over here might help sort it. And though Charlotte did her best tonight I think she’s pretty blue.’
    ‘You are the wise one, my love.’
    ‘Yes , I am, and if you’re coming out of here before Charlotte leaves you might want to consider doing up your flies first. I relish any opportunity to ogle your Y-fronts, of course, but I’m not sure Charlotte would share my enthusiasm.’
    A few yards away, sitting in the ill-lit cramped confines of the downstairs loo,