Part 6 (1/2)

*Benefit?' Gabby blurts out. *What's wrong with CVS?'

Olivia gives her a withering look. *At seventeen? I need the good stuff for my skin now.'

*I go to CVS!' pipes up Alanna.

*For make-up?' Gabby looks at her eleven-year-old in horror.

Alanna shrugs. *Just mascara. And maybe lip gloss.'

*First of all, no,' Gabby says to Alanna. *You shouldn't be wearing any make-up at this age, and Olivia, I don't know about Benefit. That stuff's expensive. Can't we please just go to CVS?'

*No!' Olivia says. *Everyone goes to Benefit, and I can't wear the stuff from CVS any more. It gives me allergies.'

Gabby looks at her sceptically. *Since when?'

Olivia doesn't break eye contact. *Since it started giving me allergies.'

*Well, what do you need? Maybe we can go to Benefit, but it depends how much you need. I don't mind buying one or two things.'

*Thank you, Mom!' Olivia leans over and plants a kiss on Gabby's cheek. They both know they will be walking out of the store with a bag filled with make-up. Olivia is delighted she will get her way; Gabby is happy not to have a fight on her hands and can go back to thinking about Matt.

The more she thinks, the more humiliated she becomes. She wishes she hadn't sent the blossom, wishes she wasn't sitting here feeling stupid for having done so, wishes she hadn't responded to anything, and certainly not with the overt flirtation she now deeply regrets.

*I'm going to bed.' Gabby leans over to kiss Elliott, then the girls, all transfixed by The Voice.

*Stay!' Elliott says. *You always watch this with us.'

She stands up. *Not tonight. I'm tired. I'm going up to read.'

Her book manages to take her mind off the lack of response, although she allows herself another read of his emails before she switches off the light. Perhaps it is her turn to write back, she thinks suddenly, making sense of his silence throughout the afternoon. Perhaps that's what he's waiting for?

But no. She can't. Stop this, she tells herself. You are a grown-up getting yourself worked into a state over a man you don't care about. If you're getting attached to some outcome here, it's you that's doing it, not him. This is ridiculous, and I'm not going to respond any more.

Feeling much better, she switches off the light, curls up and goes to sleep.

At 2.34 a.m., Gabby wakes up. Next to her, Elliott lies on his back, snoring loudly.

*Ssssh,' she says loudly, close to his ear. He doesn't move. *Elliott, you're snoring,' she says, pus.h.i.+ng him so that he rolls over gently, still fast asleep.

Gabby slides her iPhone off the nightstand and scrolls through her emails. Junk, mostly. And one from Matt.

Her heart pounds as she creeps out of bed and into the bathroom, refusing to read the email until she is alone and safe; it is a treat she wants to savour.

Ms Sloth a I love the picture of you curling up on the sofa in the fall. And your description of spring makes me long to be there a I'm going to have to start marking off the days. I went surfing today, which is the greatest advantage of living here. I'm attaching a picture taken with a group of my surf friends. Surfing, to me, is the greatest feeling in the world. You can probably tell by my smile that the waves were awesome today. So however much I miss the changing seasons, take me away from the water for any length of time and I suspect I'd die.

An ex-girlfriend of mine was just like you. She loved winter, and warmth, and just didn't understand surfing. No surprise why that relations.h.i.+p didn't work out a although had she had sparkling green eyes, things might have ended differently ... who knows :) I must stop flirting with you! I'm sorry, I know it's inappropriate. You just make me smile.

M x Matt, or as I now think of you, Surf Dude a um ... your friends look great but ... wow. It was hard to focus on them when ... I mean ... good LORD! Well, thank you for sending me a half-naked picture of you with a surfboard and a tan a I'll say this for you: you definitely know how to brighten up the day of a middle-aged housewife. I'm tempted to print it out and put it on the fridge a you'd be next to the calendar of the local firefighters, and you'd definitely give them a run for their money a but then I might have some explaining to do ...

I have no idea why I'm awake in the middle of the night. It seems to be the curse of middle age (I know, I know, I'll shut up about it in a minute), but no one I know sleeps any more. Oh, all the men do a they're sleeping like babies, but all us women are up at 2.46 writing emails and reading the Huffington Post.

I should really get up a there's so much I could get done, but bed is so warm and cosy that I'm quite happy lying there, just letting my mind play havoc and losing myself in fantasies ...

Oh no. I think I'm giving away all my innermost secrets. I'm supposed to let you think I'm super-fit and healthy, and interested in all sports, especially surfing, and instead I'm revealing that I'm happiest curled up either on the sofa or in my bed. It's pathetic. I don't know what's happened to me. I used to be filled with energy. When I was even younger than you (I know how patronizing that sounds and I'm sorry, but bear with me) I wasn't surfing, but I was skiing, and ice-skating, and in summer I'd go hiking all the time. I got completely addicted to spinning, for about five minutes, but it was a pretty intense and happy five minutes.

The last couple of years have been ... harder. It used to be that my husband was paid a decent salary and was able to be home tons, but now his salary has been cut, and, in order to make anything like he used to, he has to work every hour that G.o.d sends.

Gabby presses delete and erases that last paragraph in its entirety.

I keep thinking that one day I'll wake up and feel alive again, instead of sleepwalking through my life, but I'm still waiting ... Maybe I should take up surfing?

Sorry to be on a downer. Clearly I need more sleep ... Am off to try to trick my brain into thinking it's tired.

Big hug, Ms Sloth xo P. S. I didn't even realize you were flirting! Keep calm and carry on ...

Oh Ms Sloth a you sent me a package of spring! Thank you for the blossom that arrived today. Now I can't wait until I'm back on the east coast.

I wish I was there now and could give you a big hug and make you feel better. The only thing I know for certain is that everything pa.s.ses. The good times, the bad times ... not that these are bad times, but if you're feeling down it will pa.s.s.

Did I ever tell you, by the way, how much I love your accent? I've always wanted to go to London but the timing's never been right. I think you said that's where you're from. Do you miss it?

If I plan a trip, you'll have to tell me all the places to see and things to do. One of the things I hate is seeing anywhere as a tourist a I always try to go with contacts ready so I can see the real city, rather than the tourist version.

I want to know what the locals do, where they eat, what bars they go to. Even writing this now is getting me excited a I'm thinking London needs to be next on my list.

And now I have to be serious with you. Listen very carefully. YOU ARE NOT A MIDDLE-AGED HOUSEWIFE. G.o.d, woman. Will you listen to yourself? You're gorgeous! I don't want to hear those words from you ever again. Seriously. You're doing yourself a ma.s.sive disservice every time you think those words, and I can tell you think them all the time, which is nuts.

So, I am sending you a sandy hug from Malibu a I hope the blues go flying out through the window ...

SD x SD a the blues did indeed fly out through the window and I have started sleeping extremely well. You obviously have the magic touch. And I have to say I've been feeling better the last few days than I have done in years. I'm also mortified about revealing quite so much to a relative stranger on email. I'm truly sorry, and I promise to keep things light from here on.

You asked if I miss London. I never miss it when I'm here. My life is here, my friends, my family, although, obviously, my parents are still in London, but I have always felt as at home here as I felt over there. Often more so. But I have to be honest: whenever we visit, and as soon as I touch down at Heathrow, I start to feel desperately homesick. That's when I realize I've missed the cabbies that start chatting to you about politics the moment you get in the cab; I've missed the cafe culture a sitting around for hours drinking cappuccinos and putting the world to rights. I've missed Europe a hopping over to France or Italy for the weekend, mixing with other cosmopolitan people who have travelled, seen the world, are interested in everything around them.

But there are pros and cons to everything. It's shockingly expensive, and I suspect I couldn't raise my kids there even if I wanted to. The British love children as long as they're basically seen and not heard, and I can't imagine my very American children going down too well a they're much too loud and opinionated.

Actually, that's not strictly true. Olivia, the elder, has always been loud and opinionated, and as stubborn as an elephant. Alanna was always my baby, and so easy, but she's at that awkward age when the social pressures of school are starting to get to her, and she's becoming more and more moody by the day.

Despite all that, and particularly despite missing the days when they were tiny a how easy it was and how lovely they were a I wouldn't change a thing.

One of the things I have always adored about this country is how easy it is to live here, especially with children. You can park everywhere, take them anywhere. So many places to go, things to do. We live an hour outside of New York City in a town that has fantastic beaches and a munic.i.p.al country club! What's not to love?

I guess, if I had to pick one thing I miss, it's the sophistication of Europe. I miss the culture. It's so easy to get lazy living in a small suburban town, and I worry I've become very lazy. Why go anywhere else when you have everything you need on your doorstep, and that doorstep is so pretty?

So ... changing tack entirely. You mentioned an ex-girlfriend. I imagine you're extremely busy playing the field a a different girl in every port, and probably more than one, you charmer, you!

Miss Sloth xo My dearest Ms Sloth a apologies for not replying sooner, but work was just crazy for a while.