Fiona Gibson - Pedigree Mum

‘Rob?’ Nadine’s voice makes his heart jolt. ‘Rob? You okay in there?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ he calls in an overly-bright voice through the locked bathroom door. No way he can disappear quietly now. He clears more foul-tasting gunk from his throat and spits it into the basin.

‘Want some breakfast, sweetie?’

Sweetie? Good lord … ‘Uh, no thanks.’ He shudders and splashes cold water onto his face. Then, after patting it dry, he unbolts the door.

Nadine is standing there in the cool white hallway, a tiny lilac T-shirt flung on over a pair of little fleecy tartan shorts. She’s not wearing a bra, which is distracting.

‘Hey,’ she says with a sleepy grin.

‘Hey,’ he says, focusing firmly on her face.

‘Are you really okay?’ She raises a dark brow, and the flecks of last night’s eyeliner around her cornflower-blue eyes are oddly fetching.

‘Well …’ He rakes back his hair and follows her into the living room. ‘Guess I overdid it a bit.’

‘It was your party, you’re allowed to.’ She takes his hand and leads him to the sofa which has already been folded away. ‘It’s okay, Rob,’ she adds. ‘It was really nice, actually …’

‘Was it?’ he croaks.

She laughs, showing perfect white teeth. ‘Yeah, it was lovely.’

‘Oh.’ He senses a vein pulsating in his neck.

Nadine widens her eyes. ‘You don’t remember, do you?’

He shakes his head. ‘Er … I’m really sorry, Nadine, but it’s all a blur. I remember us talking, and me telling you I felt weird about leaving London and all that …’

‘And then you went on to talk about your kids who sound adorable …’

A tidal wave of relief crashes over him until he remembers the kiss again, which definitely did happen.

‘But, er …’ He frowns. ‘Are you saying … nothing else happened?’

She chuckles softly. ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about, Rob.’

‘But we did both, um … spend the night on here …’ His neck reddens as he prods the sofa.

Nadine nods. ‘My fault really. You were so sweet, and it was so late by then, I just wanted a cuddle and you said it was okay …’

‘So …’ Rob’s breath catches in his throat. ‘That was it ?’

She nods. ‘We just had a little cuddle as friends.’

‘Oh.’ Rob isn’t entirely sure what that means, and is even less certain that it would go down well if Kerry were to find out – but, hell, things could be a lot worse. He just cuddled (as friends) this cute, ditsy girl who’s turned out to be nothing like the frosty little princess he had her down for at work. And now … ‘God, I’d better go,’ he says quickly, checking his watch.

‘Got to be somewhere?’

‘Yes, I’m showing some people round the house and need to get it ready …’ His new-found decisiveness is helping to shift the terrible gloom. After all, he is forty today: he must act his age and seize control of the day.

‘You’ve got to clean the place?’ she asks.

‘Well, I just like to freshen it up when people are coming.’ He swallows, hoping that doesn’t sound too OCD. Secretly, though, he’s itching to get home and polish the taps.

‘Why don’t I come along and help you?’ she asks brightly.

‘Oh, you don’t want to waste your Saturday doing that.’

‘I do, honestly!’ She laughs huskily. ‘It might sound weird but I love cleaning. I like all the products – the squirty stuff for the bath, all the little wipes and dimply sponges …’ Rob smiles, unsure of whether she’s having him on or not. ‘And you can’t spend your birthday all by yourself,’ she adds. ‘That would just be too sad.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind, and anyway, I’m off down to Shorling later …’

‘You live in Bethnal Green, don’t you?’ Nadine cuts in.

‘Yes, but—’

‘Well, I was planning on heading over that way anyway. My friend Jade lives in Hackney. She’s a hypnotist. She’s helping me deal with anxieties.’

‘Oh …’

‘Come on, Rob, I’ll keep you company and we can whip round your house with a J cloth. It’ll be so much quicker if there’s two of us.’

Rob nods, his hangover abating slightly as he thinks: Why not? She only wants to help, and she’ll probably get bored and head off after twenty minutes.

‘Okay,’ he says. ‘D’you think you could get ready quickly, though? I really need to make a start.’

‘Sure,’ she says with a grin. ‘You know what, Rob? I really think you’ll sell it today. I’ve a feeling I’ll be your lucky charm.’

A few streets away from her old London home, Kerry pulls in and stops off for provisions. She is excited now, the way she used to be on her way to meet Rob, when she’d barely be able to eat for the delicious anticipation swirling inside her. Yet a seed of doubt is niggling too. Why wasn’t he at home when she and the kids called him this morning to wish him happy birthday? They’d all been poised, ready to burst into raucous song – yet the answerphone had clicked on. Although they’d sung anyway, it had felt faintly pathetic, singing to a machine. And why hadn’t he answered his mobile either? He was probably busy showing people the house, she reflects, loading her wire basket with smoked salmon, bagels and a bottle of champagne. Rob takes his house-selling duties terribly seriously, having clued himself up on the type of electrical wiring system they have – stuff which Kerry feels she should know about, but which overcomes her with ennui. As far as she’s concerned, these things only warrant attention when they stop working. She finds Rob’s earnestness endearing, though. It makes her want to hold him close and reassure him that everything will be okay.

At the thought of him opening the door to her, surprised and perhaps even gasping in delight, Kerry’s heart does a little flip. This weekend is just what they need to prove they still fancy each other. With his film-star looks, Rob is hard to resist … but does he still fancy her , now she’s just a pusher of chocolate breakfast cereal and songwriter for grown adults who wear rubbery bird feet?

‘Special occasion?’ The middle-aged man at the checkout smiles flirtatiously.

She chuckles. ‘Yes, it’s my husband’s fortieth. I’m buying a few treats to surprise him.’

He waggles a bushy eyebrow. ‘Very romantic. He’s a lucky man, love.’

‘Well,’ she replies with a smile, ‘I hope so.’

This small exchange has buoyed up Kerry to the point of simmering excitement as she bags up her purchases. Why doesn’t she do this more often? Their weekends in Shorling are filled up with practical talk about estate agents and the myriad of eccentricities of their new home. Is it any wonder they’re feeling a little adrift, when all they seem to do is talk about radiators and stinky drains?

Kerry carries her shopping to the car, stashes it on the back seat and sets off, passing Freddie and Mia’s old primary school. Although Freddie seemed fine – he’d only been there a year – Mia had been targeted by a mini thugette who, despite being called Peace Matthews, had a fondness for hitting, kicking and pushing other children off their chairs. And when Kerry had marched into school to discuss the issue, the teachers – known as ‘Lucy’ and ‘Jane’ and seemingly incapable of raising their voices above a timid whisper – had suggested ‘all getting together and having a little chat’. Which had never materialised because, apparently, Peace was ‘a little stressed at the moment’. So she bloody should be, Kerry thought furiously, when she’d picked up Mia with a ripped sweater and a graze on her cheek. (By then, she had added ‘great schools’ to her mental list of Reasons to Say Yes to Aunt Maisie’s Unmissable Offer).