Drip Dry by Ilsa Evans Read Free Book Online Page B

plaster. It looks a bit like a lunar module after a bad landing.
    â€˜Mummy, look what you did to the roof!’
    â€˜Good one, Mum!’
    â€˜Doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it, let’s fill the glasses before it froths everywhere.’ Maggie grabsthe bottle from me while I am still staring in disbelief at the corked ceiling, and proceeds to pour foaming champagne into the five flutes.
    â€˜Here, CJ, only a little one for you. Ben, Sam.’ She passes them out and then tops up the remaining two to the brim.
    â€˜Cheers!’ She passes me my glass and raises her own.
    â€˜Cheers!’ I reply, dragging my eyes down from the ceiling and fixing a smile on my face. ‘Here’s to Diane, David and the boys . . . and the girls too, I suppose!’
    â€˜Cheers!’
    â€˜Cheers!’
    â€˜Prost!’
    â€˜I’m really sorry about the ceiling, Maggie,’ I say with feeling as Sam grabs a stool and climbs up to have a closer look at the cork appendage. ‘It just shot straight out!’
    â€˜It’s okay,’ Maggie replies heartily as she watches Sam lever the cork out with her finger. Ben catches it as it falls and we all look at the neat, deep, circular indentation it has left.
    â€˜It really just flew out,’ I continue, feeling pretty rotten about the dent, ‘but I’ve never seen one actually stick in the ceiling!’
    â€˜Neither have I but, look, don’t worry about it.’ Maggie shakes her head at me. ‘Knowing Alex, it’ll be the first of many.’
    â€˜Not like that , surely.’
    â€˜Hmm, no, you’re probably right.’ She looks up at the dent again with a sort of wonder.
    â€˜Don’t look at it, you make me feel guilty.’ I grabher glass to top it up and then refill my own. ‘Here, let’s nibble some nuts.’
    Maggie gives yet another of her guffaws, for what reason I don’t want to even think about, and I put my glass down to try and open the shiny foil packet. It is definitely not my day. I think the damn thing has been super-glued together.
    â€˜Here, let me.’ Maggie sounds a bit nervous as she watches my attempts to tear open the packet. ‘Give it over.’
    â€˜No, I’ve got it.’ A statement which I immediately proceed to demonstrate by tearing through the package and straight on down one whole side. The momentum causes my hand to continue onwards after the foil parts and I send my full glass flying. Nuts cascade everywhere. The flute hits the edge of the counter lengthwise and expels its contents before rolling slowly over the edge to the floor, where it smashes into a million or so little pieces. Champagne pools on the counter and begins to drip steadily over the side. Meanwhile, nuts bounce gaily over the freshly vacuumed carpets in one direction, and scatter wilfully over the kitchen floor in the other. Numbly, I watch a couple roll under the stove.
    â€˜Good one, Mum!’
    â€˜Mummy! I wanted some of those!’
    â€˜Hmm,’ says Maggie faintly.
    â€˜I am so sorry, Maggie!’
    â€˜Look, perhaps you’d better . . . that is, I’m sure you’ve got heaps to do next door. Why don’t the kids and I clean up here?’
    â€˜Oh no! I couldn’t leave you with this mess!’
    â€˜Yes! You could! Really, it’ll be fine.’
    â€˜Are you sure?’
    â€˜Oh, absolutely,’ replies Maggie, a little bit too quickly for my liking.
    So – I leave.

MONDAY
    8.50 pm
    As it turned out, I didn’t have that much to do next door. I changed my sweaty t-shirt, opened all the windows, made tomorrow’s lunches, unpacked CJ’s schoolbag, read the assorted notices, and was standing in front of the open freezer staring at its contents and waiting for some inspiration regarding tea when Maggie and the kids came back bearing pizza. Lots and lots of pizza.
    Maggie finally left only about half an hour ago. And