.

just have to put up some money for the training. Not that we could, or anything, but still–’

      ‘That’s lovely, Flora,’ Ingrid said, conscious of that whiplash of anxiety again.

      Her nearly-seventy-year-old sister was getting better Valentine’s Day gifts from her lesbian lover than she was, and the comparison was making her sad. But why? She had no time for Valentine’s Day commercialism. Never had. But thinking she’d been given something wildly romantic had stirred up the desire in her for such gifts. If David was going to send her flowers, he should have done it off his own bat.

      When lunch was over, she drove to Kenny’s and parked in the store’s public car park instead of using the staff one. Without quite knowing why, she wanted to see David at work without him knowing she was coming.

      She entered the shop through the front entrance and let the whole Kenny’s experience flow over her.

      ‘Red is gorgeous on you!’ she heard a woman in a flowery shirt sigh to her friend as they stood in front of one of the cosmetics counters. The friend was wearing a slash of shiny red on her lips and was looking aghast at her face in a small mirror.

      ‘No, it’s desperate!’ She began wiping it off at high speed.

      ‘Bright red is hard to wear,’ came the gentle voice of the woman behind the counter. ‘This beigey pink would be nice with your skin tones, and not so dramatic.’

      Snippets of conversation floated around her.

      ‘Where’s the food hall?’

      ‘I’m looking for those suck-it-all-in knickers? What floor they are on?’

      The scent of Kenyan coffee mingled with all kinds of perfume, and from every corner of the store, Ingrid could hear chatter, laughter and murmured thank yous as people were handed back their credit cards and the store’s subtle cream paper bags with the gold font that spelled Kenny’s in elegant Art Deco lettering.

      She hadn’t been here for ages, she realised. It had become David’s work, the same way the television studios were her ‘work’. A place where they spent huge chunks of their lives separately. She felt guilty at that. No wonder he wasn’t talking to her about the store: she’d removed herself from it and he probably felt he couldn’t talk to her about it.

      Quietly, she entered the back part of the store and made her way upstairs to David’s suite of offices.

      The door to Stacey’s office was open, as was David’s. No sign of illicit meetings there.

      ‘Ingrid,’ said Stacey delightedly. ‘How lovely to see you. I was just making coffee for David, would you like some?’

      ‘No thanks,’ said Ingrid, smiling and walking into her husband’s office. He was at the big table where he sometimes had meetings and there were lots of papers spread out on the polished walnut.

      ‘Ingrid,’ he said, pleased, ‘what brings you here? Isn’t it your day for lunch with Flora and Sigrid?’

      He put out his arms to give her a kiss, and Ingrid felt some of her apprehension melt.

      ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I thought I’d drop in on the way back. I haven’t been here in ages.’

      ‘Stacey’s making coffee,’ he added, going back to his papers.

      ‘I wanted to thank you for the flowers,’ Ingrid went on. ‘The roses. I’ve heard the flowers were Claudia’s idea,’ she said evenly.

      ‘Were they nice?’ David asked absently, head still bent over his paperwork.

      Ingrid would have growled if she’d been able to, so she said nothing. The silence worked.

      David’s head shot up and he looked at her inquisitively. ‘You all right?’

      ‘No,’ she snapped, keeping her voice low, conscious of the open door. ‘I am not all right. I am your wife and today you sent flowers to my office at the behest of your sparky little girl Friday, Claudia. So no, I am not all right. I am very much not all right.’

      Nobody could ever call David stupid. He got it instantly.

      ‘This is about Claudia?’ he asked. ‘Claudia who works here?’

      His look of absolute astonishment was all the evidence Ingrid needed. Nobody could fake astonishment with such utter truth. And Ingrid had seen plenty of people try it in her years as an interviewer. The faintest gleam of bemusement appeared on his face.

      ‘You’re worried about Claudia,’ he said and she could have sworn he looked relieved, as if there was something else she should be worried about.

      The frisson of fear inside her diminished and she felt guilty at having wronged him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I got the wrong end of the stick.’

      ‘You did,’ he agreed, but he didn’t laugh with her or even hug her for thinking such a thing. ‘Claudia and Lena are so thrilled with the whole “last-minute gift” idea and yesterday Claudia came up with this plan to share how wonderfully it was going, that’s all.’

      ‘They were lovely flowers,’ Ingrid conceded.

      Something was still wrong. David hadn’t said ‘How could you think such a thing?’ or hugged her.

      ‘What’s wrong? Is it the business? Please tell me, David. Tell me what’s wrong.’

      He shook his head. ‘Nothing’s wrong, Ingrid. Please don’t interrogate me, I don’t need that.’

      She never interrogated him.

      ‘But you’re worried, I can tell. Don’t lock me out.’

      He rubbed his eyes as if getting grit out of them. ‘Money’s always a problem, especially in the credit crunch, but we’ll manage, we always do. Now, I need to finish this quickly, love. We can go to the café and have coffee then, if you’d like? I just need another half an hour.’

      Ingrid shook her head. ‘I have to go back to work. I was going to make us fish pie this evening?’

      His face lit up. ‘Great.’

      Ingrid wandered round the store for half an hour before she left. She still felt guilty for not having been there lately, and she couldn’t help but want to set eyes on Claudia, just to see.

      Kenny’s was a real jewel, she realised, walking through the home department with its carefully chosen pieces. The shop couldn’t compete with the big department stores in the area, so they’d specialised in things you simply couldn’t get elsewhere. There was unusual china, the gorgeous pottery with indigo glazes, wooden lamps with bases of carved flowers, Tiffany lamps held up by brass fairies, and the Bluestone Tapestries that Ingrid adored, even though they were worlds away from the sort of decor she normally liked.

      A woman with a baby in a buggy stood in front of the tapestries, fingering a large mermaid one with longing. Ingrid could remember when Molly and Ethan had been babies, and she’d had so little time to meander around shops. She felt a strange yearning to have that time back again, and she’d do it differently. Make more time to meander, like this woman with her baby.

      But she’d always been so busy, trying to fit work and housework into a day that was still only twenty-four hours long.

      The woman with the baby turned and caught Ingrid’s eye.

      ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’ she sighed, meaning the tapestry. ‘But a bit expensive for me.’

      ‘I love them too,’ Ingrid agreed. ‘I’ve actually got one in my hall.’

      ‘Lucky you,’ said the woman.

      Yes, thought Ingrid, lucky me.

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