Country Plot Read Online Free

so–o–o lucky. On the whole, she preferred Sybil’s approach – to listen, say nothing, and apply chocolate cake in industrial quantities. For pin money, Sybil baked cakes and tarts for a very upscale farmer’s market, so the house was often full of delicious smells, and dangerously well supplied with goodies. It was a wonder the children weren’t fat as geese, but they seemed to have inherited good genes, and were whippet-thin despite having a mother who baked like an angel. Jenna wasn’t quite so lucky, but felt she was off the leash for this week at least. Sybil’s offerings seemed to soothe the places other comfort couldn’t reach.
    By the time the weekend arrived, when the children were off school and Oliver came home, she was over the floods stage, was sitting up and taking notice, and was able to play with the former and welcome the latter.
    On Saturday morning the children were agog to talk to her.
    â€˜Did you have a cold?’ Allegra asked. ‘Your nose is still a bit red and you’ve got
huge
bags under your eyes. Everybody in our class had a cold last term except me. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t get to stay home
once
. Are you going to put some make-up on for when Daddy comes home? Mummy always does. I expect it would make you look a bit better,’ she concluded kindly, ‘and p’raps not quite so old. Can I look in your make-up bag? Sorcha Ravenscroft came to school in nail varnish last week but they made her take it off with smelly stuff. Do you like nail varnish? Do you think I’m old enough to have my ears pierced? Mummy says not.’ Allegra was ten, and longing to be twenty-seven. Jenna could have told her that age was not all it was cracked up to be.
    Inez, who was seven, had less complicated needs, and just wanted Jenna to play Tummy Ache and Greedy Gorilla with her. Tertius, who was nearly six, wanted to show her his entire collection of Carz, and then stage races and horrific crashes on the floor at her feet, which he really didn’t need her to pay attention to. Sybil flew round doing housewifely things, and looked in from time to time to say she was grateful to Jenna for keeping the children occupied. Then as the moment approached for Oliver’s return, she went upstairs to make herself glamorous.
    Jenna was still in tracksuit bottom and sloppy T-shirt – her widow’s weeds – but the general excitement of the house at the wanderer’s return finally filtered through to her vanity, and at the last moment she dashed upstairs too, changed, whacked on some slap, and raked the knots out of her hair. She stared a moment at her image in the mirror, and felt her lip tremble and tears threaten from the back of her nose. She looked pale and haggard and Allegra hadn’t been wrong about those bags. But what did it matter now? No one was ever going to love her again.
    Since the first day, Patrick hadn’t phoned once. She’d had her mobile turned off, but there was nothing on voicemail; and though she hadn’t told him where she was going, he could have guessed, surely, and rung her on Oliver’s landline. Well, he didn’t love her any more, that was clear – not that she didn’t know that already, after finding him in bed with another woman (and who
was
she, anyway? None of her friends had had any clue). She was homeless, jobless and manless, putting on make-up for her
brother
! How sad was that? But then she gave herself a brisk shake –
none of that, now!
– told herself not to spoil Oliver’s return, and went down for the hugfest.
    Oliver was shiny-eyed with tiredness and the long flight, not to mention the punishing work schedule and the horrible climate. He had been away three weeks this time. He hugged Jenna briefly but hard, and whispered, ‘Poor old monkey-face,’ into her ear. Sybil had told him the story during their daily telephone talks. He had to give his immediate