Free Prey to All by Natasha Cooper Page B

taking E when they go clubbing. And who they want to marry, and whether they’re paying enough into their pension schemes, and—’
    ‘Oh, stop it,’ she said, laughing. ‘I know I’d worry too much. But it’s a thought that does keep cropping up.’
    ‘I know.’
    Something in his voice made her say carefully, ‘You too?’
    He nodded.
    ‘Then we will have to think about it,’ she said, breathing carefully. It was all rather alarming.
    ‘But we’ve plenty of time,’ he said, picking up her doubts.
    ‘A bit, anyway.’ She took her hands away from his head and moved back out of his grasp. ‘I must dress. May I have first bath?’
    ‘Naturally.’
    She took The Times Metro section with her, so she could read the book reviews in the bath. She wished George had two bathrooms and that one of them had a proper shower. She’d lost the habit of baths years earlier. Still, they spent all the week at her place; it was his turn from Friday to Sunday. Wallowing like a mudfish was a small price to pay.

Chapter 6
    ‘Ms Maguire?’ said the stringy-looking man, who bent down to the open window.
    ‘Yes. And you must be Adam Gibbert. Do, please, call me Trish.’
    ‘Thank you, and thank you for coming all this way. It means a lot to us all that you’ve taken Deb on like this. D’you want to park over there, behind the Volvo? There’s just about space, and you’ll be safer off the road with a car like that.’
    ‘Great.’
    Trish waited until he’d moved out of her way, then manoeuvred her big soft-top Audi behind his battered estate car. The gravel crunched under her wheels and slipped as she turned the tyres.
    Adam Gibbert shut the gate at the bottom of his garden and she watched in the mirror as he came back to the car. He was tall and walked painfully, which made him look much older than Deb. Trish knew the age difference was only four years, which made him younger than Malcolm Chaze, his one-time rival. He didn’t look it.
    He was wearing clean cream-coloured cord trousers, but they were split at the hem and beginning to fray. His shirt was made from dark green and blue checked cotton, like a primitive tartan. It seemed too vigorous a colour combination for his wattled neck and worried face. She thought he’d come over quite well on screen.
    ‘Come on in. Kate’s been determined to cook you a traditional Sunday lunch with all the trimmings, so it may be a bit late. But we can have a drink straight away.’
    ‘Lovely. I brought some wine.’ Trish leaned back into the car to find the bottle that had been rolling about under the passenger seat. She hoped it would be drinkable, and that he wouldn’t be insulted by it. Knowing that he was strapped for cash and trying to bring up four children while their mother served out her sentence, Trish hadn’t wanted to take lunch off him without giving something in return. Gibbert looked at the label with real interest and then glanced up, smiling shyly. ‘It’ll be a treat to drink something like this again. How very kind of you! Now, come on in and meet Kate and the rest of the family.’
    He stroked his elder daughter’s back as he introduced her to Trish and she saw the girl smile at him. But the smile seemed forced. She didn’t look happy. Her oval face was still plump, but the shape of the appley cheeks suggested there might be striking bones under the puppy fat, and her long-tailed eyes were a deep, shining brown with glossy mink-like lashes.
    ‘Would you like some help?’ Trish asked, when they’d shaken hands. ‘Or would the greatest help be our getting out of the way?’
    A flashing smile transformed the weary patience in Kate’s eyes. Her face was shiny with sweat and there was flour all down the front of her sagging black T-shirt, and in her long brown hair. She was in the process of putting a pastry lid on a pie dish full of browning lumpy chunks of cooking apple.
    ‘Do you know how to make gravy?’
    ‘In fact I do,’ Trish said. ‘The man I