Fiona was in the upstairs flat with Timmy and Becky. On the kitchen table, a pile of empty toilet rolls waited to be transformed into a spaceship.
‘Can I do it?’ squealed Timmy, standing up on his bar stool and lunging for the scissors.
Fiona pushed his hand away. ‘I’ll cut. You two are the artistic directors. Before we do anything, we must decide what the plan is. Let’s draw a picture.’
The flat door opened, and George burst in. ‘Rose!Rose? Where are you?’ he shouted as he marched into the kitchen area.
‘Daddy,’ squealed Becky.
‘Not now, honey,’ said George, pausing to kiss his daughter’s head. ‘Rose,’ he yelled, stalking off and disappearing into the master bedroom.
‘Right, you two,’ said Fiona, picking up a crayon, ‘now what sort of spaceship is this going to be?’ She pushed the paper between the two children and gave them each a crayon.
‘Timmy why don’t you do the top half, and Becky the bottom?’
‘But the nose is the best part,’ squeaked Becky. Above the whining Fiona could hear raised voices. Not wanting the children to focus on their parents’ row, Fiona lifted her own voice. ‘No, the bottom is where the action will be. Come on, think about what shape you want the boosters to be – shall we have diamonds?’
Becky leaned her body over the picture, her tongue pokingout, a crayon clutched in her fist. Rose, wearing a trouser suit, bustled into the open plan room, her eyes darting round. ‘Mummy,’ cried Becky.
‘Not now, love. I need to find some papers.’ She strode over to George’s desk, trying to pull down the top.
George stormed over. ‘That’s private.’
Rose turned to face her husband, a curious expression on her face.
Fiona leaned over, hiding between the children. ‘Why is it locked?’ demanded Rose.
‘Because it’s private. That’s got all my work papers in it, and I don’t want them messed up by you or the kids. Promise me you will stop hounding the staff.’
‘I’m not hounding anyone. I’m just going to ask everyone a few questions.’
‘No. I won’t let you speak to Ruben or Josh. They’re my team, and there’s no need. I’m sure it’s neither of them.’
Fiona looked up. Rose was glaring at her husband. ‘So, it’s got to be one of my team, has it?’
‘It’s not one of mine,’ said George evenly.
‘Iwillget to the bottom of this, and you have to let me.’
He grunted, bunching his fists, ‘Back off, Rose. They’re in my team, and I’ll handle them my way.’
Rose snatched up a file, her hands trembling as she pushed it into her bag. ‘You mean, youwon’thandle it, just leave it all to me as usual!’
Rose struggled to fasten her handbag, her hands slipping on the lock. George paused, reached down and secured it for her. ‘Come here you,’ he said, reaching out for his wife. ‘I’m sorry I’m tetchy. The kitchen’s like working in a pressure cooker that’s about to explode – everyone’s jumpy, on the lookout for a thief skulking in the store cupboard. It’s not a good creative space.’
Rose’s shoulders relaxed as he hugged her close. Watchingthem, Fiona smiled wistfully. They had a special bond. ‘I’d better go back down and let you get off to the accountants,’ George said. ‘I’ll talk to my team. I promise.’
‘Mummy,pleeeeeeasehelp us with the spaceship,’ begged Timmy.
Rose kissed George then walked into the kitchen area. ‘Two minutes – show me what’s going on then.’ She turned to Fiona. ‘I really do appreciate all this help with the kids. It’s so kind of you.’
Fiona hesitated. ‘Rose, can I ask you something?’
‘Yup.’
‘This might sound like an odd question, but ... you and George ... what makes things work between you two?’
Rose stroked her daughter’s hair, a thoughtful expression on her face.‘It’s a fair question, especially from someone recovering from a broken heart. Are you looking to date again?’
