The Fantastic Book of Everybody's Secrets by Sophie Hannah Page B

find Selena. He couldn’t wait to tell her what he’d done. If Nora sent him another letter complaining about his early departure, maybe he’d pretend he’d been taken ill. He’d never faked sickness before, but now that Nora had put the idea into his head, it seemed a good one. There were all sorts of things Tom could do that would involve defiance but not directness. He felt dizzy with elation; he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t cottoned on to this sooner. It had to be because years of working for Gillian Bate had crushed his flair.
    As he parked his Citroën in the Beddford Homes development’s car park, he allowed himself to hope that perhaps Nora would say nothing about his premature exit from the office. Perhaps she would never dare to criticise him again, now that she knew he was better at the covert digs game than she was.
    Selena was in the show home garage-cum-office with her feet up on the desk. She was drinking a mug of tea, and grinned at Tom as he walked in. ‘That’s the spirit,’ she said. ‘Leave before midday, teach them not to take you for granted.’
    Tom was keen to tell her of his adventure, but puzzled, also, by his wife’s change of mood. ‘You’ve cheered up,’ he said. ‘I thought you were furious.’
    â€˜I was, then. But I’ve dealt with it.’ This was the sort of woman Selena was: angry before the event that would make her angry had happened, happy twenty seconds later because she’d sorted out the problem. Often she didn’t feel the need to tell Tom what had been wrong, once it was right. Tom was theeloquent and fulsome complainer of the household; ranting to Selena until he’d got it out of his system was the only way he knew to resolve any of his difficulties in the outside world. Until today.
    â€˜Tell me,’ he said.
    â€˜You know that competition I entered, in Good Housekeeping ?’
    â€˜No.’
    She sighed. ‘You never listen. The luggage company Packed to Perfection ran this competition. You had to write a strapline to promote their merchandise, ten words or less, and the word “suitcase” or “case” had to be in it somewhere. The prize was a long weekend for two at the Hotel Europa-Regina in Venice. Completely free. Anyway, I won.’
    â€˜What?’ Tom had always wanted to go to Venice. This had to be better than anything that had ever happened to Idris Sutherland. ‘But…that’s brilliant. What was your slogan?’
    â€˜â€œWorld open. Case closed.”’ Selena laughed. ‘We have to use their luggage, but that’s okay. They’re giving us a free set, and our suitcases are knackered anyway.’
    â€˜I don’t understand why you were angry,’ said Tom.
    â€˜Because…what were we going to do with Joe and Luce?’
    â€˜Hey?’
    â€˜It’s a weekend for two adults, not for a family. And, quite frankly, I’m glad there’s no provision for kids. Joe is four. Do you realise that in four years and four months, we’ve never – never! – had a night on our own, let alone three.’
    Tom saw the problem. ‘I’m sure the luggage people would let us take the kids,’ he said. ‘I mean, we might have to pay for them, but…’
    â€˜Tom, I don’t want to take the kids. Sorry if that sounds selfish, but I think we deserve a break without children. Clearly Packed to Perfection think so too, and that’s why the prize is a long weekend for two, not four. I can’t remember the last time we haven’t both been up before six-thirty. Can you?’
    â€˜No,’ Tom admitted.
    Selena opened her mouth and an avalanche of names poured out, all friends of theirs, all with children. She told Tom about the many thrill-packed nights those couples had spent away, alone – at casinos, theatres, nightclubs, artists’ retreats, ski resorts, on