Part 41 (1/2)

'Don't wanner wear this hat! It's not pink.'

Poppy's pride in her daughter's brilliant vocabulary was eclipsed by exasperation.

'It's purple and it's a very pretty hat,' she said levelly.

'Want a pink hat. Want to wear a pink haaaat.'

'Darling, you don't have a pink hat.'

'Buy me one.'

'Oh for heaven's sake,' Poppy said, as Clara flung herself to the floor, screaming as if her limbs were being torn off by slavering wolves. Poppy could barely hear her phone ringing.

'h.e.l.lo?' she said, grabbing it, a finger jabbed in her other ear.

'Wanner... pink oooone.'

'Christ. Where are you? Bedlam?'

'Your granddaughter wants to wear a pink hat.'

'I see,' Charlie said sagely. 'Well, just to add to your joys, have you seen the Sunday Prophet Sunday Prophet yet?' yet?'

'Are you trying to warn me about something?'

'Only the latest instalment from your dear friend. Do you want me to read it to you?'

'No, don't worry, I'll read it online.' Poppy stepped over Clara's writhing body, sat down at her computer and clicked in newly expert fas.h.i.+on. 'Are you still there?' she asked as the page she was looking for s.h.i.+mmered into view. 'How are things anyway?'

'Not bad, not bad at all. I was wondering if you needed any babysitting in the next few days.'

'Any excuse to hang out with Miss Pinky,' Poppy teased him as the article came into focus. 'Don't worry, I'm not going out at night much any more and Brigita's covering the few times that I am, but it'd be good if you'd come round on Monday night anyway. It's Clara's first day at nursery and I'm bound to be a gibbering wreck. I'm so nervous.'

'She'll be fine.'

'What if she hates it and begs me not to leave her?'

'She won't do that,' Charlie said with the misplaced confidence of one who knew nothing about the ways of small children. 'Have you found the article yet?'

'Yup, just wait a second while I read it.' She skimmed it quickly, then laughed.

'Well done, Hannah. She's turned a potentially embarra.s.sing situation to her advantage.'

'Is any of it true?'

'They're happy enough, as far as I can tell,' Poppy said. 'Hannah's got Luke by the short and curlies. Since she's the main breadwinner now, he's been allocated chauffeur duties, going up and down the motorway to pick the kids up from their various schools. Plus he has to pose for pictures to go with all the articles she's writing about their marvellous family life.'

'Will he ever get another job?' Charlie wondered.

'I don't think he's in any hurry to. His book's coming out in February and Hannah's insisted he does a load of publicity for it. ”I was the real-life cad” that sort of thing. And then he told me he's going to write an autobiography that involves a year's research with lots of travel.'

'I can see why he'd want to get away, but what about Clara?'

'It's OK. Clara and I will go out and join him in a couple of the safer parts of the world. I'm looking forward to it. I think when I see some of the places he's worked in I'll finally know what makes Luke tick.'

'Does that mean a reunion's on the cards?' Charlie sounded alarmed.

Poppy laughed. Seeing the tantrum had pa.s.sed, she pulled Clara off the floor, kissed her on the nose and for the second time that morning opened the front door of their new flat in Shepherd's Bush. 'Definitely, definitely not. Come on, darling. We're going to buy you the CBeebies magazine now. Or would you like Angelina Angelina?'

'Both of them!'

'Well... maybe.' As they set off down the road, hand in hand, Poppy switched her attention back to Charlie. 'I've been through all the emotions with Luke. Pa.s.sionate love. Bewilderment. Sadness. Hatred. And now when I talk to him I feel... I don't know, sort of content. I made a mistake marrying him, but Clara came out of it so I didn't exactly come off badly.'