My Husband's Wife by Amanda Prowse Read Free Book Online

minutes and I’ll come home and take them if you want a rest.’ She knew he’d had a busy week.
    ‘No, you’ve just finished work and I am kidding, kind of. It’ll be nice to spend time with them and if I’m lucky we’ll get to put the One Direction CD on repeat all the way there and all the way back!’
    ‘Well, look, have fun, drive safely and I’ll see you when you get home. Love you.’
    ‘And we love you. Say goodbye to Mummy.’ Phil held the phone out and it was hard to believe that it was just her two little girls who screamed and shouted words of farewell and not a football team. It made her smile, imagining the girls hounding him into taking them. They would all be exhausted by the evening. Poor Phil. She vowed to cook him a nice supper and spoil him a bit.
    The day was too nice to waste and Rosie decided that rather than hide from the sunshine at home, alone, she would walk the long way round and stop for a while on her favourite bench. In fine weather, the view over Combesgate Beach and beyond was especially lovely.
    The Esplanade was busy. Converted vans and campers were parked side by side, with wetsuits hanging on airers hooked to windows and the aroma of bacon sizzling in pans mingling with the whiff of gas that crisped it just so. Rosie always thought the vans looked very cosy. She smiled and nodded at the blanket-wrapped adventurers with pruney toes who sat close together, huddled inside with camping mugs full of tea, looking cold and tired, salt water dripping from their hair, but slowly warming as they stared out over the rolling waves they tried to master.
    Rosie felt her chest tighten and she huffed and puffed as she picked up the pace. Wishing she was fitter, her thoughts turned to the cheese on toast she would devour as a late lunch when she got home. It seemed that a picture of the grub she loved almost instantly replaced every thought of dieting or healthy living.
    With her bench in sight, she pushed on. Reaching it finally, she peeled off her jacket and placed it on her lap, partly to cool herself down and also using it as a cushion to cover her pouchy tum. She closed her eyes briefly and threw her head back, feeling the scorch of early spring sunshine on her cheeks. It was lovely. The sound of circling gulls echoed overhead and the distant giggle of a child rock-pooling below made it perfect. She placed her left hand on the bench and wondered if her mum’s fingers had touched the same spot.
    And there she was! Laurel, sitting on the bench, smiling, as if to say, ‘There you are, Rosie. I’ve been waiting for you.’
    She imagined her mum’s face, lit up with happiness at the sight of her, as the comforting scent of apples filled her nostrils. She pictured Laurel turning in her direction, her expression quizzical, as if enquiring about her day.
    Rosie beamed and spoke out loud. ‘Funny thing, actually, Mum, earlier I nearly half scalded a man to death and then he ran out in his towel. Didn’t know where to look!’
    Her mum tipped her head back and smiled.
    ‘I know!’ Rosie grinned. ‘I’m a little pickle. No wonder my girls are always up to mischief – they take after me, don’t they!’ She looked at her mother and swallowed. ‘Am I your best ever thing, Mum?’
    Laurel nodded.
    ‘I knew it!’ Rosie smiled, beyond happy. ‘I would have liked you to brush my hair,’ she confessed, as her mum leant towards her with her hand reaching out—
    There was a jolt and spring to the wood, as someone sat on the other end of the bench. It pulled her from her daydream. She smiled, opened her eyes and tried to look delighted, swallowing the mild irritation that a stranger was robbing her of her brief time of solace and her precious time with Laurel. That was the trouble with a special place like her bench with the view: it tended to be special to a lot of people.
    Rosie glanced to the left. Oh shit! It was the American! She turned her head sharply to the right, looking over towards