Fiona Gibson 3 Book Bundle. Fiona Gibson

they’re not germy,’ Mary insists. ‘They’re fine, Freddie, love …’

      ‘She said it.’ Freddie jabs a finger at Nadine.

      ‘She’s not she,’ Rob says sharply, getting up from his seat, grabbing his son by the sleeve and marching him back to the table. ‘Her name’s Nadine and no one’s forcing you to eat cheese so stop making such a bloody great fuss.’

      The room falls silent. Eugene clears his throat and Nadine pokes at something in her eye.

      ‘It’s just the pregnancy, Mum,’ Rob murmurs. ‘Nadine can’t be in the same postcode as Brie.’ All adult eyes swivel towards him as he adds, ‘Joke.’

      Lunch is cleared away quickly then, with Mia and Freddie wisely deciding they’ll have more fun hanging out with Nanny and Nonno in the kitchen. Nadine excuses herself and slips off to the loo. Finding himself alone for a moment, Rob slips out to the back garden and extracts his cigarettes from his pocket.

      ‘Hey.’

      He turns to see Nadine at the patio door. ‘Hi,’ he says wearily.

      ‘I thought you’d stopped.’ She steps out onto the lawn and sits beside him on the worn wooden bench. The garden looks dead now, bordered by a spindly fence and endless rolling Kent countryside beyond.

      ‘Just been having the occasional one,’ he says.

      ‘Oh, Rob. When the baby comes—’

      ‘Don’t worry, I’ll hang out of the window. You can hold onto me by my ankles while I dangle upside down.’

      She shakes her head, exasperated.

      ‘It’s just a little lapse,’ he adds, inhaling so hard it makes his head spin. ‘I’ll stop way before that.’

      ‘Well, I hope so. Oh, and … I don’t think I’m going to stay here tonight, Rob. Would you mind calling me a taxi to the station?’

      ‘What – you mean you want to leave?’

      ‘Yes, I think it’d be best, and I know you’ve been drinking …’

      ‘Only a tiny glass,’ he fibs, studying her pale, flawless face that looks somehow illuminated, and the clear blue eyes fixed upon his. ‘Look – are you sure you want to go? I know it’s not easy but Mum’s okay when you get to know her. She’s just a bit prickly today. It’s been quite tough for her, the whole break-up and everything, and I think the kids are just a bit weirded out …’

      ‘It is real, you know, the thing about unpasteurised cheeses,’ Nadine interrupts. ‘I didn’t make it up.’

      ‘I know that, but Mum’s from a different generation. When she was expecting me and Dom, she probably ate nothing but pâté and soft cheeses and had the odd fag and glass of wine, and we’ve turned out okay …’

      A smile tweaks her lips. ‘That’s debatable.’

      ‘Oh, come on.’ He crushes his cigarette butt with his shoe, then nudges it under a plant pot where his mum won’t see it. ‘Dom and his wife and the kids are coming over later. You’ll really like them. It’ll be more fun then …’

      She shakes her head. ‘Maybe it’s just me, Rob. I’m not used to scenarios like this. I don’t manage family things very well.’ He takes her hands and wraps his fingers around hers. Nadine’s parents are a bit of a mystery to him. While her mother calls fairly regularly, sounding frightfully posh and nervy on the phone, her father seems to show zero interest in her, apart from providing a steady cash flow into her bank account.

      ‘I’ll ask Dad if I can take you on a factory tour if you like,’ Rob cajoles with a smile. ‘Not many people get one of those.’ Nadine looks down at her shiny black shoes. ‘Honestly,’ he adds, ‘the weekend’s going to get better, I promise.’ But there’s no persuading her and, half an hour later, having explained to his parents that she doesn’t feel well, Rob and Nadine are in a taxi on their way to the station.

      ‘You needn’t have come with me,’ she says, staring gloomily out of the window. I’m not an invalid, Rob.’

      ‘I know, Nadine. I just wanted to keep you company.’ He takes her hand, relieved that she hasn’t bad-mouthed his mother in the cab. The driver knows his parents (Eugene Tambini is something of a minor celebrity around here) and has already spent ten minutes enthusing about ‘that apple chutney with the raisins and nuts – and I’m not even a pickle man’.

      Rob murmured his agreement, his mind more on his mother’s vinegary treatment of Nadine and how he might go about making amends. Maybe it was a bad idea to invite her down this weekend. He should have coaxed his parents to London instead, and treated them to dinner and a hotel stay; that would have impressed Mary so much, she wouldn’t have had it in her to be rude.

      Something else is worrying him too. Did Nadine mean it about going back to work pretty much straightaway? And what’s all this about a career change? Full-time childcare will cost a fortune, and Rob is already dispatching a hefty chunk of his salary to Kerry, not just because he knows he should, but also in an attempt to cancel out his guilt (a big fail on that score).

      ‘So,’ the jovial grey-haired driver says, pulling up outside the station, ‘I guess when it’s time for you and your brother to take over the business, there’ll be one of those almighty family feuds over who’s boss …’

      ‘Erm, I don’t think so,’ Rob replies with a tight smile. ‘They’re not really my thing, pickles.’

      ‘Ah, you’re the high-flying journalist one.’

      ‘Uh, that’s right.’ He pays the driver and grabs Nadine’s bag, making a mental note to never move to the countryside, even by accident, where everyone knows everybody else’s bloody business. At least the driver has dispersed the tension between him and Nadine. She’s sniggering now, and mutters, ‘High-flyer, eh?’ as they reach the platform.

      ‘Ha. Yes, he obviously doesn’t know as much about my family as he thinks he does.’ An icy wind whips against his cheek.

      ‘Oh, don’t be fed up, Rob.’

      ‘Well, it’s just been a pretty duff weekend so far.’

      Nadine sighs. ‘Look, I had to meet them sometime and it was never going to be easy, was it? I’m sure we’ll get to know each other. I just … wasn’t really up for it today.’

      He nods and kisses her red lips as the train approaches. Minutes later, his girlfriend and unborn baby really are in a different postcode from Brie.

      Chapter Thirty-Three

      After Harvey’s lesson, followed by an eager nine-year-old girl whose mother constantly texted from the armchair, Kerry heads out into the breezy afternoon. She has arranged to meet Brigid, who is delighted that she has started to accompany her for dog walks. With Joe despatched to a friend’s house, they have just Buddy and Roxy for company as they stride along the wide, flat sweep of Shorling beach.

      ‘Buddy’s making great progress,’ Brigid observes.

      Kerry smiles. ‘Thanks. Sometimes I dare to think, I’m not too bad at this. Being a dog owner, I mean.’

      ‘He seems so much happier and more settled …’

      ‘Well, it’s been at least two weeks since he peed indoors,’ Kerry adds, ‘and now he only barks when a really huge, loud vehicle goes by. He’s usually fine with anything on four wheels. God, I hope I don’t sound like one of those awful boasting parents. You know – “Oh, Juliette’s doing so well with the oboe, she’s going to skip through the exams and go straight to grade eight …”’

      Brigid lets out a big, gravelly laugh. ‘I’d say you’re allowed to give yourself a pat on the