‘Please,’ he gasped, resting his hands on his thighs.
‘I’ll get it. Here, give me your glass too, Sian, and I’ll top it up when I’m in the kitchen.’ Joanne picked up the empty wine bottle and tucked it under her arm.
Sian finished what was left in the bottom of the glass and handed it over. ‘Thanks.’
Just then Heidi, a flash of black, streaked across the grass and ran three times around the garden barking manically, her tail wagging.
‘For heaven’s sake! Somebody’s let her out of the utility room!’ cried Joanne and she marched off into the house mumbling to herself. A moment later she appeared on the kitchen doorstep, waving a piece of beef jerky, Heidi’s favourite snack, in her hand. She called Heidi’s name and the dog raced over, gulped down the treat and disappeared inside the house. The door slammed shut behind her.
‘I wonder if Joanne has any idea what her family’s carbon footprint is,’ observed Sian.
‘What?’ said Louise.
‘I was thinking about the dog. Recent research estimates that the ecological impact of a large one like Heidi is the same as driving a 4.6-litre four-wheel-drive vehicle twelve-thousand miles a year.’
Louise filled her cheeks with air and blew out noisily. ‘I’m sure Joanne’s not given it much thought, Sian. She seems to have other things on her mind lately.’
‘It’s up to Joanne how she lives her life, Sian,’ interjected Andy with a gentle smile. He grinned at Louise and said, ‘Who knows, if we set a good enough example, some of it might rub off on others.’
Louise smiled and looked out across the grass at Oli, who was now happily playing chase with Abbey, their shrieks of laughter filling the air like sirens. ‘Oli seems to be enjoying himself.’
‘He’s a natural with the ball,’ said Andy and gave Sian a wink. She grinned back, marvelling at the fact that she had found him, that he was hers. ‘He’ll be keeping you in your old age, Louise.’
Louise, straight-faced, glanced across at Oli once more and said anxiously, ‘I saw a poster at the library for a class called Enjoy-a-Ball. They teach basic ball handling skills to young children. Do you think I should sign him up for that?’ She frowned and shook her head, clearly annoyed with herself. ‘Why didn’t I think of that before?’
Andy threw his head back and laughed, his Adam’s apple like a knot in a rope. ‘There’s plenty of time for that sort of thing when he’s older, Louise. He’s still a baby. Anyway, kids come to things when they’re ready. You can’t force it.’
Louise smiled tightly. ‘I guess you’re, right. I just want to do what’s right, you know. What’s best for Oli.’
‘Well by the looks of it you’re doing a grand job, Louise,’ said Andy kindly and Louise visibly relaxed.
‘Do you think so?’
‘You’re giving him the best start in life,’ said Sian, seeing suddenly how much her sister needed reassurance. ‘Not many people have the luxury of being a full-time mum, especially single ones.’ Sian’s gaze was drawn momentarily to Gemma who was standing on the far side of the garden with a plate in one hand and a fork in the other, talking to her eldest child. She’d gone back to work as a legal secretary soon after her marriage broke up and her son was only four – a tough decision, Joanne had told her at the time, motivated by necessity rather than choice.
Louise cleared her throat, drawing Sian’s attention, and let out a long heartfelt sigh. ‘That might have to change,’ she said flatly, toying with a lock of fair hair by her left ear, the way she used to as a child when she was bothered by something.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I’m going to have to return to work sooner than I’d planned.’
‘But I thought you said you wouldn’t go back to work until Oli went to school.’
Louise looked at the ground and bit her lip. ‘That was the plan, but I’m not sure I can afford to now. I put cash away for the first three years and the plan after that was to cash in shares. But they’ve fallen so much, I’m not sure that’s a sensible thing to do right now. I’d be better off waiting until they recover some of their value, otherwise I’ll be eating into Oli’s university fund. I still have to sell the Edinburgh flat and buy a place here and that’ll involve legal fees and stamp duty.’ She shook her head resignedly. ‘I can’t see any way round it. I think I’m going to have to go out to work and full-time at that.’
Sian, surprised by this news, was momentarily at a loss for words. Louise had prepared so carefully for Oli’s birth and childhood, both practically and financially. Being at home for him, in his early years at least, had been one of the cornerstones of her dream. It was disconcerting to hear that these plans had gone awry. Sian glanced across the garden at Oli, now sitting on the grass making daisy chains under the guidance of Abbey. He would have to go into full-time childcare of some sort – a very different proposition from the one morning a week he’d done in Edinburgh and the very last thing Louise had wanted for her son.
‘Would you be looking for something in your old line of work?’ said Andy, breaking the silence.
Louise’s last job – before she’d resigned six weeks before Oli was born – had been as Tourism Marketing Director for Historic Scotland with responsibility for Edinburgh Castle, the city’s most visited tourist attraction.
Louise scratched her head. ‘Ideally, but realistically, I might have to cast my net a bit wider. There aren’t many senior jobs in tourism marketing in Northern Ireland and with this recession I doubt if there’ll be much recruiting in the field at the moment.’
Sian, 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