Husbands by Adele Parks Read Free Book Online

mountain of toys. Amelie is also oblivious to the idea of packing light. She’s arrived with the entire Estée Lauder skin care range, clean clothes for tomorrow (two outfits; one befitting a walk in the park, another an amble down King’s Road), nightwear, flowers (for me), several huge bars of chocolate (for everyone), books, articles cut out from magazines that she thinks are interesting and hopes I might too (Amelie assumes other people find thorny issues appealing and she has a higher opinion of my intellect than anyone I’ve ever met), and a bottle of Chablis (already chilled).
    ‘I’m thinking of buying some ceramic hair straighteners and thought you might have a set I could try,’ says Amelie, in a timely reminder that she enjoys frivolity too. I confirm that I have the latest type and that they work miracles.
    ‘Aunty Bella, will you pierce my ears?’ asks Freya whohas watched
Grease
about fifty times and definitely sees herself as Olivia Newton-John.
    ‘No,’ her mother and I chorus.
    The doorbell rings.
    ‘The oven should be hot now, will you stick the pizzas in?’ I ask Amelie. The kids are already searching through the DVDs and arguing over whether they should watch
Shrek
or
Honey
. Amelie wanders through to the kitchen and I answer the door to Laura and Eddie.
    They arrive with similar noise and commotion. Eddie is just in time to cast a deciding vote in favour of
Shrek
. Freya looks crushed but is somewhat comforted when I say there is time for both films. Amelie and Laura stare at me as though I’m insane as they see the chances of getting their offspring in bed before 10 p.m. recede. I shrug off their concerns as I know after they’ve had a couple of glasses of wine, they’ll be less tyrannical.
    It’s about fifteen minutes before the children are safely ensconced upstairs in front of the TV. The pizza is almost ready and the wine is already affecting our brain cells. We lounge around the kitchen, propping up the breakfast bar. Whenever I’m with Amelie my first instinct is to ask her how she is.
    ‘How
are
things Amelie?’ I cock my head to one side – I read in a magazine that this stance encourages confidences.
    ‘Oh, you know,’ Amelie holds up the box of chocolates I’ve bought – Swiss – they cost a packet but are worth it. ‘Should we open these before the pizza? Can we risk it? Sweet before savoury?’
    ‘My mum’s not here,’ laughs Laura, ‘no one is going to tell us off.’
    Amelie opens the chocolates and pops one in her mouth, I wait for her to answer my question. She doesn’t. Instead she turns to Laura and says, ‘You look lovely.’
    I haven’t had a chance to do more than glance at Laura, since she arrived – I’ve been focusing on the children and Amelie – but Amelie’s right: Laura does look great. Really great, not just the-new-T-shirt-demands-attention great. She’s smiley and relaxed. She’s taken the time to wash and scrunch-dry her hair, allowing her curls to celebrate their bounce. She’s wearing another new top, a pink, floral-print one, it’s cool, not mumsy. And besides these outward changes, I can see that something has shifted on the inside too. She is gleaming.
    ‘I’ve met someone.’
    ‘You have?’ Amelie and I sound delighted and incredulous at once.
    ‘Where?’ I ask. ‘At nursery? Do I know him?’
    Laura grins mischievously. She’s enjoying the attention. ‘I met him after I left you on Monday.’
    ‘You met him on
Monday
and you’ve taken until now,
Friday
, to tell me about him?’ I’m mildly offended. Considering Laura sometimes rings me to talk about a new brand of washing powder, I can’t understand why she’d hold back something of this magnitude.
    ‘I wanted to see your face and… well, nothing is concrete.’
    ‘Tell us everything,’ says Amelie, hopping on to a bar stool and patting the one beside her.
    ‘Well, at first, and I can hardly believe this now, I didn’t notice how cute he is. I just heard