Never Too Late by Cathy Kelly Read Free Book Online Page B

biscuits like there was no tomorrow.
    Count to ten, she thought, as she boiled the kettle again.
    Her guests were still animated at half-eleven. Sitting on
    the crouch while Cedric regaled her and Sheilagh with
    some long-winded story about his optician’s shop, Olivia
    marvelled at how her father-in-law could look so like her
    beloved husband and yet be so utterly unlike him in every
    other way.
    Both men shared the same lean build, although Stephen
    was broader thanks to his regular workouts in the gym.
    And they both had tightly curled dark hair, olive skin and
    fathomless black eyes that spoke of Italian ancestry somewhere
    along the way (Cedric’s grandmother had been
    from Naples).
    But while Cedric was self-obsessed, strait-laced and very
    fond of the sound of his own voice, Stephen was outgoing,
    the life of every party, ambitious and very passionate.
    That’s what had drawn her to him, Olivia thought, wishing
    he was here right now.
    They’d been introduced at a dinner party twelve years
    previously and had fallen madly, passionately in love with
    each other. After a whirlwind romance when they’d spent
    every spare moment in bed, they’d got engaged within
    three months and married six months later.
    At the time, Olivia had been working in the local tech by
    day teaching home economics, and giving cookery demonstrations
    at night to make enough money to travel round
    the world. Stephen had just joined Clifden International.
    Once they got married, he told her she didn’t need to
    kill herself with two jobs and then somehow Olivia had
    found herself with only half a job, working four mornings
    a week, the way she still did. Her plans to travel around
    the world had been shelved when she and Stephen got
    married, which Olivia often thought was ironic: he way
    now never off a plane and had enough air miles saved to
    buy tickets to Mars, while she never got farther than her
    daily triangular loop in the car to the school and the
    supermarket via Sasha’s creche.
    She couldn’t complain, she knew. After all, they had
    darling little Sasha and it had taken her so long to get
    pregnant that she thanked God for her daughter every day
    of her life. After seven years where Olivia longed for a baby,
    even if Stephen had been a bit unconcerned about her
    inability to conceive, she’d felt gloriously lucky to become
    pregnant. Sasha had been worth the wait, the little pet.
    ‘Hilarious, wasn’t it?’ Cedric said, barely able to contain
    his laughter at his own anecdote.
    Olivia blinked. She hadn’t been listening - ‘wool gathering’
    was what Stephen called it when she tuned out like
    that. Sometimes her mind wandered and she always felt so
    guilty that she hadn’t been listening to what he said,
    especially as she missed him so much when he was away.
    ‘I’m obviously not interesting enough for you, Olivia,’
    he’d say in mock disapproval, pulling her to him and
    settling her on his lap.
    ‘But you are,’ she’d protest, kissing him to prove her
    point.
    And they’d end making love, a frantic, almost silent
    encounter with the door of their bedroom ajar as they
    listened out for sounds of Sasha getting bored with her
    toys and trundling down the corridor on her solid little legs
    to see what they were doing. Stephen got very irritated by
    having to keep quiet.
    ‘Olivia, didn’t you think that was funny?’ Sheilagh was
    saying.
    ‘Hysterical,’ fibbed Olivia. She couldn’t wait for
    Stephen to arrive home.
     
    ‘There’s hardly any need to take more booze to your
    parents’ house and you know I don’t like too much
    drinking in front of Sasha,’ Stephen complained the following
    afternoon as he watched Olivia pack a couple of
    bottles of wine into the giant hamper they were taking to
    Ballymoreen.
    ‘We’ll have a couple of glasses of wine and I hate to turn
    up with nothing,’ she protested.
    They were in the kitchen, with Stephen lounging against
    the counter, still in his grey suit,