I Invited Her In: The new domestic psychological thriller from Sunday Times bestselling author Adele Parks. Adele Parks

it must have been different with the girls.’

      ‘Yes, then I could have made friends and – to an extent – I did. However, people generally assumed that Imogen was my first baby. Once they discovered I had a son nine years older, the playdates tended to dry up.’

      Abigail forked the tiniest scrap of Victoria sponge into her mouth. ‘Why?’

      ‘Nine-year-old boys are energetic, cheeky. Sometimes hard going. Mums of newborns don’t appreciate that; they thought Liam was a pain. I never could stand to be anywhere where it was obvious other people would prefer him not to be.’

      ‘Which mum could?’

      Mel smiled. ‘Thanks Abi.’

      ‘For what?’

      ‘For getting that. Ben and my mum always thought I was being overly sensitive and that I should cut the first-time mums some slack. But I became bored of the endless comments such as, ‘Gosh, he doesn’t know his own strength, does he?’ Or, ‘If only little boys came with volume control buttons?’ Liam, for the record, was a perfectly normal little boy in terms of energy levels, and probably slightly better than average when it came to obedience. I will admit he was pretty noisy.’

      Abigail laughed. ‘Should we upgrade this afternoon tea?’

      ‘Upgrade?’ Mel looked at the array of goodies spread in front of her, and no doubt thought of the ones she’d already chomped her way through. She probably couldn’t imagine how it could possibly be made any better.

      ‘Let’s order a glass of champagne. What am I thinking about? We’re on the train. Let’s order a bottle.’

      Mel demurred for less than five seconds and then agreed, as Abi knew she would.

      As she sipped, Mel talked more about her friends, or lack of them. ‘My closest school-gate friends are Becky Ingram and Gillian Burton. They’ve daughters Imogen’s age and I’ve known them a few years now, since reception class. We sometimes car pool, we sit through adorable but clumsy ballet performances together. That sort of thing.’

      ‘Fun,’ said Abi. Mel gave her a look which suggested she doubted Abi could mean this, but Abi did. What could be dreamier than watching your daughter skip about in a tutu?

      ‘We go to a book club together once a month. They also go shopping and to the tennis club on a weekly basis.’

      ‘I know the type.’

      ‘They’re very kind,’ said Mel, defensively. ‘We bail one another out if there’s a problem with childcare at pick-up time. Truthfully, they bail me, as neither of them have jobs, other than the one of raising a family, which seems like a luxury to me. They’re never late for pick-up.’

      ‘They sound lovely,’ commented Abi, although she withheld any conviction from her voice, because she secretly wanted Mel to understand – and then confess – that they were quite ordinary friends.

      Mel obliged. ‘They are kind to me but ever since Taylor Swift and her bunch of leggy girlfriends started promoting themselves as the ultimate girl gang – you know, arms slung across each other’s shoulders, snaked around one another’s waists – I’ve had a niggling feeling that I’m missing out on the whole female friendship thing.’

      Abi smiled, encouragingly. ‘Girlfriends are cool.’

      ‘They are,’ said Mel firmly. ‘How had I forgotten that?’ She sipped her champagne and became more confessional. ‘I guess because I spent my twenties wiping various baby fluids, and singing nursery rhymes, the friendship rituals – that I know other women enjoy – took a backseat.’ Abi reached forward and squeezed Mel’s hand. Mel necked her glass of champagne and Abi quickly refilled it. ‘I’ve never had a friend who would drive a hundred miles, armed with chocolate and wine, to avert my personal crises.’ Mel paused. Something hit her, not just the alcohol content of the Moet. ‘At least, not since you, Abi.’

      Abi had never actually had to drive one hundred miles – they’d shared student accommodation when they were young – so it was an untested theory but it was a lovely idea.

      ‘I have held back your hair as you’ve said a second hello to your dinner and cocktails. Twice, I think,’ said Abi. She wasn’t certain. She had a strong stomach; she had done this for many friends at university; Mel might have been among them. Or maybe not. Mel laughed and didn’t contradict her, so Abi assumed she must have.

      ‘I suppose you have a lot of close friends.’ Mel sounded almost sulky.

      ‘Absolutely!’ Abi lied. ‘I need them to help me forgive my embarrassing mistakes and appalling faux pas.’

      ‘I can’t imagine you have many of those.’

      ‘I’ve had my share.’ Abi shrugged.

      ‘That’s what friends do though, don’t they? Forgive your moments of crazy recklessness or selfishness,’ Mel declared with intensity.

      ‘If they can,’ said Abi. For a moment, there was a silence between them. Heavy and layered.

      Mel gulped back the champagne and looked longingly at the bottle. Then she seemed to shake herself. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I mean even if, in some alternate universe, Gillian or Becky were interviewed for Hello! magazine I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t use the opportunity to declare that their very survival is dependent on my friendship, the way Taylor Swift’s friends might,’ said Mel, with a sad sigh. Abi remembered this about her now. She became emotional on alcohol.

      Abi leaned across the table. ‘Maybe not, but you know I would, right? I mean, what you’ve done for me, scooped me up, invited me into your home. It’s so generous. Above and beyond. I’m more than grateful.’

      Mel smiled and blushed. Abi had thought Mel might have grown out of the blushing by now; it was almost cute on a teen, but a little dispiriting on a woman who ought to be more confident.

      ‘Well, if anyone is going to be interviewed by Hello! it’s you!’ pointed out Mel, laughingly. Then, more soberly, she added, ‘I know it’s crazy because we’ve only been reunited for twenty-four hours, but Abi, it’s like we’ve never been apart, isn’t it? And you know, I’d do anything to make things better for you. I really would.’

      ‘People say anything, but they don’t really mean it,’ said Abi.

      Mel looked crushed. ‘Well, I mean it. Anything at all,’ she insisted.

      Abi smiled and nodded. It was exactly what she wanted to hear.

11

       Melanie

      I’ve never fallen in love at first sight. I’m a slow-burn sort. My boyfriends before Liam’s father were mates before they became dates. I was never in love with Liam’s father; just in lust. And Ben? Well, he had to woo me in the old-fashioned way because, basically, I was terrified he was going to hurt me – or more importantly, Liam – by bouncing in and then out of our lives. His good looks worked against him; it took a long time for me to trust him. Yet, I remember back to that first moment I met Abi, I had flutters in my stomach. An instant spark, a feeling that we were meant to be together. And now, I feel it all over again. I’m not coming out here. I don’t fancy her. I’m just saying being with her is intense, wonderful, uplifting. I’ve missed her.

      I can’t wait to get the girls to bed. They sense it and play up. Ben’s no help because he sees Abi’s visit as an excuse to pop to the gym and then no doubt he’ll undo the good work as he’ll nip to the local for a cold one; he rushes out the door at seven thirty.

      ‘You’ve got yourself a good man there,’ says Abi as she waves to him from the sitting-room window. Ben waves back and grins at her, as he dashes down the path. ‘Where is he from?’