brown liquid escaped onto the perfect countertop and it dawned on me – we'd spent that holiday dreaming of our future. And we were the lucky ones... we got everything we’d wanted, but we lost each other along the way. We’d gone on to stay in five star hotels, swim in infinity pools and drink vintage champagne, but none of our holidays since had been as wonderful as the one in that little cottage with the leaking toilet.
Only a few days before, I’d suggested to Simon that we take a trip back to The Lakes and that run-down little cottage one day. ‘We could revisit the past?’ I’d said. But he wasn’t interested. ‘The past is the past Tamsin and who wants to freeze to death in an old cottage when there are perfectly good hotels?’ I guess he’d moved on – and left me behind.
I’d never really talked to Sam about my marriage – I’d always protected her, tried to keep worry from her door. Even as a little kid I never really let her see what was going on and I’d continued to do that even as adults, especially after what she’d been through – I couldn’t add to Sam’s burden. Over the years, I’d become emotionally self-sufficient, or had I just pushed my worries to the back of my mind, folded them all up neatly and closed the drawer?
Of course it wasn’t just my marriage that had been coming apart under the perfect roof of my perfect detached home with double garage, designer kitchen and tennis courts. My circle of friends on Chantray Lane were great fun, but I had never really been honest with them, never been able to tell them I’d been born in a council house, or that my Dad had been on the dole. The ladies of Chantray Lane weren’t exactly known for their acceptance of others less fortunate (unless it was a Third World black tie charity event) and I dreaded being excluded. The school I’d attended was the one they spoke of in hushed tones, like it was some kind of borstal. It was the place they threatened their own kids with if they didn’t work hard at their paid-for prep school. I would always blush when anyone mentioned it – and feigned deafness when anyone asked where I had been educated.
I sipped at my coffee, a warm, comforting caffeine embrace; ‘I’ll call the girls,’ I sighed, ‘I need to tell them before they drive past and see that bloody big poster in the window.’ But Sam suggested I leave it for now.
‘Talk to your friends once you know exactly what’s going on. You know they will tell everyone so just keep it to yourself until you know what’s happened to Simon.’
I nodded, she was right, my friends could be quite judgemental and I didn’t want them calling Simon and hurling abuse down the phone at him on my behalf. Anouska, Phaedra and I all lived on the same road, known locally as ‘Millionaire’s Row,’ and were all part of what we jokingly referred to as ‘The Real Housewives of Chantray Lane.’ We were all rich, all glamorous and all bosom buddies. Or so I thought.
‘I bet Anouska’s got Heddon and Hall over there now,’ I said, over my steaming mug of coffee. ‘They’re probably straddling her balustrades as we speak.’
‘Oh for God’s sake Tamsin, that’s the least of your worries,’ Sam snapped.
Anouska lived in The Old School house and was rich, beautiful and freshly single due to her philandering husband’s desire for younger flesh. She was also very competitive and each Christmas always tried to book Heddon and Hall before anyone else. They’d called in at Anouska’s on their way to me and I reckon she put an extra snifter in their mulled cranberry juice to inebriate them in the hope they would inadvertently sabotage my Festive interior.
Thinking about this, I suddenly remembered Mrs J’s tea leaf reading prediction and felt a shiver run through me. I grabbed Sam’s hand.
‘Oh My God,’ I gasped.
‘What? What is it Tam...’ she looked genuinely scared, and well she might be.
‘Bugger me,’ I said, forgetting my
Only a few days before, I’d suggested to Simon that we take a trip back to The Lakes and that run-down little cottage one day. ‘We could revisit the past?’ I’d said. But he wasn’t interested. ‘The past is the past Tamsin and who wants to freeze to death in an old cottage when there are perfectly good hotels?’ I guess he’d moved on – and left me behind.
I’d never really talked to Sam about my marriage – I’d always protected her, tried to keep worry from her door. Even as a little kid I never really let her see what was going on and I’d continued to do that even as adults, especially after what she’d been through – I couldn’t add to Sam’s burden. Over the years, I’d become emotionally self-sufficient, or had I just pushed my worries to the back of my mind, folded them all up neatly and closed the drawer?
Of course it wasn’t just my marriage that had been coming apart under the perfect roof of my perfect detached home with double garage, designer kitchen and tennis courts. My circle of friends on Chantray Lane were great fun, but I had never really been honest with them, never been able to tell them I’d been born in a council house, or that my Dad had been on the dole. The ladies of Chantray Lane weren’t exactly known for their acceptance of others less fortunate (unless it was a Third World black tie charity event) and I dreaded being excluded. The school I’d attended was the one they spoke of in hushed tones, like it was some kind of borstal. It was the place they threatened their own kids with if they didn’t work hard at their paid-for prep school. I would always blush when anyone mentioned it – and feigned deafness when anyone asked where I had been educated.
I sipped at my coffee, a warm, comforting caffeine embrace; ‘I’ll call the girls,’ I sighed, ‘I need to tell them before they drive past and see that bloody big poster in the window.’ But Sam suggested I leave it for now.
‘Talk to your friends once you know exactly what’s going on. You know they will tell everyone so just keep it to yourself until you know what’s happened to Simon.’
I nodded, she was right, my friends could be quite judgemental and I didn’t want them calling Simon and hurling abuse down the phone at him on my behalf. Anouska, Phaedra and I all lived on the same road, known locally as ‘Millionaire’s Row,’ and were all part of what we jokingly referred to as ‘The Real Housewives of Chantray Lane.’ We were all rich, all glamorous and all bosom buddies. Or so I thought.
‘I bet Anouska’s got Heddon and Hall over there now,’ I said, over my steaming mug of coffee. ‘They’re probably straddling her balustrades as we speak.’
‘Oh for God’s sake Tamsin, that’s the least of your worries,’ Sam snapped.
Anouska lived in The Old School house and was rich, beautiful and freshly single due to her philandering husband’s desire for younger flesh. She was also very competitive and each Christmas always tried to book Heddon and Hall before anyone else. They’d called in at Anouska’s on their way to me and I reckon she put an extra snifter in their mulled cranberry juice to inebriate them in the hope they would inadvertently sabotage my Festive interior.
Thinking about this, I suddenly remembered Mrs J’s tea leaf reading prediction and felt a shiver run through me. I grabbed Sam’s hand.
‘Oh My God,’ I gasped.
‘What? What is it Tam...’ she looked genuinely scared, and well she might be.
‘Bugger me,’ I said, forgetting my
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