Fern Britton Summer Collection: New Beginnings, Hidden Treasures, The Holiday Home, The Stolen Weekend. Fern Britton

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СКАЧАТЬ fruit bowl from Botswana and the wooden carving of the Indian god, Ganesh to bring luck. On a swing over the table just big enough for two hung a bright green papier-mâché parrot from Brazil. Whenever she was here, she felt as if the two competing sides of her life were put on hold for a few hours, and for that time, she was answerable to no one. She had switched her mobile off, the better to enjoy their time together, so when Mel’s landline rang she knew it wasn’t for her. While Mel answered it, Christie helped herself to another spoonful of chicken korma.

      Mel held out the phone. ‘Chris, it’s for you. It’s Mum.’

      Christie made a throat-slitting gesture. ‘Mum, hi. Is everything OK? I’m running a bit late. Do you mind staying on for an hour or so? I was just about to call.’ She closed her eyes and prayed for forgiveness for the lie.

      ‘You said you’d be home at eight thirty.’ Her voice was clipped. ‘More importantly, you told Libby that. Fred’s in bed but I’ve got Libby here. She wants to have a word with you.’

      ‘Didn’t I say I was having a quick supper with Mel?’ Christie defended herself.

      ‘Not in my hearing,’ snapped her mother. ‘Sometimes you take me too much for granted.’

      Christie grimaced as Maureen put Libby on the phone.

      ‘When are you coming home, Mum? You said we’d do the pumpkins. And Fred wanted you to help him with his costume.’

      Shit. She’d forgotten all about the Hallowe’en preparations she’d promised she’d do for the weekend’s fun.

      ‘I’m so sorry, Libs. I stopped at Auntie Mel’s but I’m on my way now.’ Her eye fell on a new addition to Mel’s collection of kitsch: a smiling Hawaiian hula doll complete with green grass skirt, white and yellow lei and a strategically placed ukulele. Right at that moment, she envied her sister’s freedom.

      ‘Well, I’m not going to bed till you get back. You promised.’ Having pressed every single guilt button in Christie’s battery, Libby passed the phone back to Maureen.

      When Christie hung up, Mel put an arm around her. ‘Everything OK?’

      ‘I’m the worst mother, that’s all. I’ve let Mum and the kids down and now I’ve let you down as well, because I’ve got to go. I’m not sure I can manage juggling family and work. The magazines have got it wrong. You can’t have it all.’

      ‘It’s early days, Chris. Everyone’s happy to rally round and we know it’s not for ever. Mum’s enjoying being needed and I had a great time taking Libby to see that ghastly vampire movie yesterday. Even though I hated it.’

      ‘I know. And I’m incredibly grateful to both of you. But whatever I do isn’t right by Libby. Why can’t she be just a tiny bit pleased for me? Instead, she’s as difficult and uncommunicative as possible. Sometimes I feel as if I don’t know her at all. I need to be around her more.’

      ‘Being around isn’t always the best thing. You’ve been putting every hour God sends into the job, you’re exhausted and it’s good for you to have a bit of time out. Mum loves being with them, whatever she says. Anyway, look on the bright side. Your kids are terrific …’

      Christie shook her head.

      ‘Yes, they are. I won’t hear a word against my nephew and niece. You’ve got a great job. Shame about the agent – but you can’t have everything. And you’ve got Richard in tow. What more do you want?’

      ‘In tow? I have not!’ Christie felt herself getting hot.

      ‘Christine Lynch! You’re blushing. You do fancy him, don’t you? I knew it.’

      Christie knew that if she even half admitted that she found him slightly attractive, Mel would never let her hear the end of it. In truth, she still wasn’t sure what she felt. All she knew was that her feelings hadn’t subsided into the friendship that was expected of her. ‘Actually, I don’t,’ she said, pouring cold water on Mel’s ideas before they took root.

      But at home later that night, when everyone else was in bed, Christie lay alone in hers watching the green figures on her alarm clock flick away the time as she listened to the sounds of the night, thinking of her and Mel’s conversation, unable to sleep.

      *

      The following morning, relieved to be at the end of a difficult week, she picked up the papers that Tony, her driver, always left on the back seat of the car for her with a Starbucks. The front page of the News showed Gilly being rushed to hospital, then waving as she was returned home in an ambulance after a scare. Trust Gilly to steal the limelight from Christie’s interview with Josh Spurrier. Truth to tell, she was more than a little relieved to be buried on pages eight and nine, but her professional side knew that more exposure would have pleased Julia. She read on to find out what Gilly had had to say. As Tony turned into the busy traffic on the M40, her mobile rang. Julia.

      ‘Darling. Just to let you know that Gilly and I watched your interview with Josh. You did a good job.’

      ‘Thanks. How is Gilly?’

      ‘Behaving like the little trouper she is, though sickened not to have been able to do the interview with Josh herself, of course.’

      ‘Of course.’ She didn’t bother explaining her own responsibility for the interview, knowing it would be ignored.

      ‘She won’t be back at work now until after the babies are born – so you’re full-time from now on.’ She sailed on. ‘But I’m calling for three reasons. One, I’m sending over another batch of publicity shots for you to sign and send back, and two, I’ve fixed an interview for you with the Daily Telegraph. Sarah Sterling will be at your house by ten next Monday. With a photographer. Your first big profile. OK?’

      ‘Er, yes. OK. What do they want to interview me about?’

      ‘Oh, Christie, just be creative and dazzling. They’ll love you. And wear something pretty. And, three …’ Julia paused for effect. ‘The boys from Drink-a-Vit have come back to me. You are going to be the face of their press campaign. I’ve just got to negotiate the fee. Isn’t that wonderful?’

      ‘Yes, fantastic. Actually, Julia, how much do you think—’

      ‘No need to thank me. Must dash. Taxi waiting. ’Bye, darling.’

      ‘—you’ll get for me?’

      The only answer was the dialling tone.

      *

      After the show that evening, Christie refused Sam and Frank’s offer of a drink in the bar. Sitting in the back seat of the Mercedes on the way home, she had the thinking time she needed. Half-term was over, so work would be more manageable from now on and she would devote what time she could to Libby and Fred. At least they’d all have a proper routine for the few months she had left with the show.

      Lights were blazing from the house when she finally arrived home. The rich smell of baking potatoes and chicken stew filled the kitchen. Maureen was washing up and smiling at something Richard was saying. In front of him sat four large orange pumpkins, their chopped flesh scattered on the newspaper that covered the table. Fred and Olly were concentrating on cutting ghoulish faces into the hollowed-out СКАЧАТЬ