‘How are you feeling this morning?’
‘Like a new woman.’
‘Oh?’
‘Your father has done me a favour. I should write him a thank-you note.’
‘You know where he is?’
‘No, it was a figure of speech.’ Cynthia took a bite of toast, a thin streak of melted butter trickling towards her chin.
‘I can’t believe he did that. I’m still in shock. It’s so unlike him.’
‘It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.’
Sarah stole a glance at her mother, the jovial attitude at odds with their situation. ‘Mum, it’s OK to feel sad. I’m here if you want to talk.’
Cynthia laughed, and a piece of toast flew out of the corner of her mouth. ‘Sad? Why should I be sad? Like I said, your father has done me a favour. He’s dragged me down long enough.’
‘Aren’t you angry about what he did?’
‘Humiliating me in front of my friends? Of course! But I can use it to my advantage.Unreasonable behaviourI think it’s called in lawyer speak. I intend to get my fair share from this divorce. He’s got another thing coming if he thinks he can slip away into the sunset with his wallet intact.’
‘Right.’ Sarah’s own toast popped up, but her stomach felt tied in knots and any appetite she’d had disappeared. ‘I need to go to work. Will you be OK here by yourself?’
‘Of course I will. I don’t need babysitting. In fact, I’ve got plenty to occupy me. I need to see a man about a dog…’
‘A dog?’
Cynthia sighed. ‘Sometimes you’re just like your father. It’s an expression, Sarah. It means I’ve got a few irons in the fire.’
Sarah wondered if Cynthia was going mad.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve not heard that one either? I’ve got plans to make. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.’
‘Plans?’
Cynthia smirked and tapped the side of her nose. ‘All in good time, Sarah, all in good time.’
‘But…’
‘We’ll talk when you get home from work. I should have the details ironed out by then.’
‘Right, OK. I’ll see you later.’
Sarah grabbed her bag and left the house without touching her coffee or toast. She wanted to tell Cynthia not to make any big life decisions after a shock, but knew it would do no good. At least work would provide some normality.
Chapter 5
Sarahwasintheoffice half an hour early. Fitters clocked in, some giving a halfhearted greeting, but Sarah kept her eyes down, scared that if she lifted them, they’d fill with tears. Cathy and Miriam walked in on the dot of nine, arms linked, laughing at some inane shared joke.
‘Morning, Sara,’ said Miriam, in her fake, singsong voice.
‘It’s Sarah,’ muttered Sarah under her breath.
‘Coffee?’ Cathy asked Miriam.
‘Hun, do you need to ask?’
