THE PROMISE OF HAPPINESS. Erin Kaye

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СКАЧАТЬ suddenly inspired, said sharply, ‘Aren’t they looking for a Tourism Marketing Manager out at Loughanlea, Andy?’

      ‘Yeah,’ said Andy vaguely, rubbing his chin, ‘it was mentioned at the meeting last week. I got the impression they wanted the vacancy filled by the autumn. It’s going to be a world class venue, so I imagine they’ll be looking for someone with your level of experience, Louise.’

      Louise put a hand to her breast. ‘It sounds too good to be true – a marketing job like that right on my doorstep.’

      Sian nodded. ‘It sounds as though it might be perfect for you, Louise. You should give it some serious thought.’

      Louise nodded. ‘I’ll do that.’

      ‘I wonder where Joanne’s got to with that beer,’ said Andy, craning his neck to peer into the lounge. ‘She’s been gone ages and I’m gasping.’

      ‘I’ll go and look,’ said Sian.

      ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Louise and they started off in the direction of the kitchen door. Just as they got there the sound of raised voices, a man’s and a woman’s, drifted into the garden through the open kitchen window. Sian held her breath and stared at Louise.

      ‘Does that,’ she said, pulling a face, ‘mean that Phil’s home?’

      The two sisters stepped quietly into the kitchen and closed the back door. Joanne, standing behind the breakfast bar, barely glanced at them. It was strewn with dirty plates, scrunched-up napkins and used cutlery. Her chest, under folded arms, felt tight and her breath was shallow. Her cheeks burned hot. She stared at Phil, sprawled in a chair in front of the crumbled remains of the chocolate welcome home cake she’d baked, and she blinked to hold back the tears of frustration.

      ‘Okay, so you couldn’t be arsed coming home in time to help me. Nothing new in that. You’d think I would be used to that by now, wouldn’t you? But to turn up now – when the party’s almost over. And drunk.’ Her voice rose against her will to a high-pitched shriek. ‘That’s … that’s … unforgivable,’ she hissed, finishing the sentence. ‘You always put yourself before everyone else. You don’t give a shit about anyone but Phil Montgomery, do you?’

      Phil closed his eyes and raised his face to the ceiling, an infuriating smirk fixed in place. He was incredibly handsome – dark-haired, brown eyes framed by long black lashes, a strong square jaw and tanned muscular frame under his golfing polo shirt and pale pink sleeveless sweater. Usually his physical presence was enough to mollify her, but today Joanne barely registered these physical details. She forgave him so often because her physical attraction to him was still, at times, overwhelming.

      But today, something had changed. She felt sudden, cold clammy fear. She recognised something underneath his looks and what she saw, she did not like. She shivered suddenly and rubbed her upper arms roughly. Phil brought his cold gaze to bear on her, his eyes red-rimmed with drink, his stare arrogant.

      ‘Do you?’ shrieked Joanne.

      ‘Shush,’ said Louise, putting a finger to her lips. ‘People will hear. Can’t you … discuss this another time?’

      ‘I don’t care who hears,’ said Joanne, defiantly, not really meaning it. She covered up for Phil all the time. It was what she did.

      Heidi, confined once more to the utility room, started scratching at the door and whimpering.

      Sian said, ‘Mum and Dad’ll hear you if you don’t stop shouting. You don’t want to upset them, do you? You know how Mum’s been looking forward to this afternoon.’

      Joanne let out a long slow breath. ‘No, of course not,’ she said, lowering her voice. ‘But will you look at the state of him!’ she hissed pointing at her husband, the corners of her mouth turned down in disgust. She grabbed a used napkin and threw it at him – with no weight behind it, it fell pathetic ally short. Phil did not even notice.

      ‘Bla … de … bla … de … bla,’ he said, his face raised to the ceiling. He brought his head down suddenly and glared at Joanne. ‘It’s your frigging family, Joanne. Not mine. I told you I was playing golf today weeks ago and you still persisted in having people over. And then you go about like a martyr accusing me of being in the wrong.’

      ‘You didn’t have to stay for a meal at the clubhouse. You could’ve come home after the game.’ And then – because there was a grain of truth in what Phil said which frustrated her even more – Joanne burst into tears. Immediately her sisters ran over and stood on either side. Each placed a hand on her shoulder.

      ‘Phil,’ pleaded Sian, ‘can’t you just leave it?’

      ‘I can. She won’t,’ he growled.

      ‘Please, Phil,’ said Louise. ‘She’s upset.’

      Joanne wiped away the tears, black with mascara, with the back of her hand. ‘I’m okay,’ she sniffed. ‘I’m used to this.’

      ‘Pah,’ spat out Phil. ‘Look at you. The three bloody degrees. Telling me what to do in my own home.’

      ‘But Phil—’ began Louise’s reasonable voice.

      Joanne cut across her. ‘Don’t you talk to my sisters like that,’ she snapped. ‘Don’t you dare.’

      ‘I pay for this house, slave all hours to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. I’ll do whatever I bloody well like in my own home.’

      ‘That,’ said Joanne with a dramatic pause, ‘is exactly your problem.’

      The back door burst open all of a sudden and Andy came in, his T-shirt spotted with dark splats of rain.

      ‘Not now, Andy,’ snapped Sian but he was pushed further into the room by a horde of giggling children, trailing muddy slicks across the clean kitchen floor.

      ‘Sorry,’ said Andy with a quick glance at the glum faces in the room and a shrug of his shoulders. ‘The rain’s really chucking it down, man. Hi, Phil.’

      Phil nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Andy.’

      ‘Dad,’ cried Holly, running over to her father and throwing her arms around his neck. Maddy gave him a wary look and shot a searching glance at her mother. Abbey ran over to the table, grabbed a chocolate muffin and stuffed as much of it as she could into her mouth, moist crumbs falling to the floor. Oli followed suit. Nobody chided them.

      Heidi, on hearing the commotion, started howling and Abbey cried, ‘Heidi’s locked in the utility room!’ She paused momentarily to put her hands on her hips. ‘Mum,’ she scolded, ‘did you lock Heidi in the utility room, again? She doesn’t like it, Mum. She gets scared.’

      When Joanne did not reply Abbey ran over to the utility room door, opened it and the dog bounded into the room. She made straight for the table, put her front paws up on it and wolfed down a muffin, paper case and all. Then, before anyone could stop her, she grabbed another one in her long snout. ‘No, Heidi. Bad girl!’ cried the children in unison and the dog, duly chastised, shot out the back door like a black bullet with her tail between her legs and the muffin lodged firmly in her mouth.

      ‘Wow!’ said СКАЧАТЬ