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‘Hey, mister! Where’s my kiss!’ she demands, tickling him under the arms.

      ‘Ewww! Gross! Ugly Aussie girl germs!’ He giggles hysterically. ‘Ewwwww!’

      ‘No quarter, mate! Give it up! Say, “I love Allyson!’”

      ‘Never!’ he screams, delighted. ‘Never, ever, ever! You stinky poofter!’

      I whip round. ‘Hey! Where did you learn that word? That’s not a word I want to hear again, do you understand me? Where did you hear that?’

      He looks at Allyson who, in turn, stares at her toes. ‘Sorry mate. Must’ve been me,’ she admits. ‘I’m really going to try to clean up my language. Promise.’

      Sometimes I hate being Mom. ‘Well, it’s not a word I want to hear again from either of you. Do you understand?’

      They look at each other and giggle.

      The toast pops up and Bunny breezes in, carrying a stack of old magazines, which she plops down on the kitchen table. She’s always the first to wake, the one who puts the coffee on and rescues the milk and morning paper from the front doorstep. ‘I’m off,’ she announces. ‘Allyson, please pass me a plastic bag from that right-hand drawer, will you? I’m going to drop these by the surgery. I went the other day to have someone look at my toe and all they had were a bunch of copies of Horse and Hound. Can you imagine how depressing?’

      I pass Alex his peanut butter toast, carefully cut into strips rather than squares, squares being for some reason entirely inedible. ‘What’s wrong with your toe?’

      Bunny pops an apple into Alex’s school satchel.

      He removes it again when she’s not looking.

      ‘Nothing, as it turns out. It just looked odd. And that’s all I’m going to say, as you’re dining.’

      Allyson and I exchange a smile; only in Bunny’s world is peanut butter toast considered ‘dining’.

      ‘Oh!’ Bunny swirls round, hands on hips. ‘And someone’s been smoking in the house!’

      ‘Smoking!’ Allyson gasps, throwing her hand in front of her face for protection. ‘This is a non-smoking household! We don’t smoke in here!’

      ‘Yes, but there were ashes in one of my favourite china planters; the one with the white orchids. I know it couldn’t possibly be one of you girls.’ She eyes us sternly anyway. ‘I must have another word with Piotr. Damn, the dry cleaning! I’d forget my own head, girls.’ And she darts off, her high heels clicking against the flagstones of the kitchen floor.

      Allyson glares at me.

      It’s my turn to feel like a child. ‘Stop it! It wasn’t me! OK?’

      ‘Well, someone had to do it! Probably that beast upstairs.’ She pours herself a coffee and settles down at the table. ‘It’s a disgusting habit!’ she continues, flipping through back issues of Hello!. ‘I cannot live in a smoking household! It plays havoc with your voice…God, what are these people like! Look Evie, “My Plastic Surgery Torment” by Jordan Halliwell. Jesus! Just look at the size of those tits!’

      ‘Ally!’

      It’s too late.

      ‘Let me see! Let me see the tits!’ Alex bounces up and down, brandishing a piece of toast and pulling at Allyson’s sleeve.

      She covers her mouth. ‘Oh, shit! Sorry, darling! I completely forgot!’

      I flash her a look.

      ‘Oh, bugger!’ She giggles.

      I’m fighting a losing battle. ‘Sit down, Alex, and finish your breakfast. We’re going to be late and I’ve got a lot of work to do this morning.’ Whatever brief authority I possessed is quickly draining away. Alex ignores me and dances around the table instead, chomping on toast and repeating the word ‘tits’ as many times as he can.

      ‘Listen.’ Ally’s desperate to make it up to me. ‘I’ll walk him over today. Give me one minute while I pull on some clothes!’

      ‘No, it’s all right.’

      ‘Come on, Evie. Give me a break!’ she challenges. ‘What can be so difficult about walking a child to school?’

      ‘Well, he’s got to have his gym things today and he needs to go in the side entrance rather than the front because of the road works on Ordnance Hill, and he’s not to give any of his lunch to that little Indian boy with the nut allergy; it was a close call the last time. And he’s going to bug you about going into the newsagents for sweets but I don’t want him having any, Ally…’

      She’s laughing at me.

      ‘I’m serious!’

      ‘That’s exactly why you’re so funny!’ She rubs Alex’s hair and he beams up at her. ‘I’ll be two minutes.’

      She rushes upstairs with her coffee.

      ‘And no more swearing!’ I call after her.

      ‘Mummy!’ Alex yanks my sleeve. ‘I didn’t give him the sandwich, Mummy. He took it,’ he reminds me.

      I rub my fingers over my eyes. ‘Yes, darling.’

      She’s going to buy him sweets, I just know it. She always does.

      Oh…bugger.

      And sitting down at the table, I nick a strip of Alex’s toast, skimming through the abandoned magazines. These people live in another world…socialites, Hollywood actors, royalty, rock stars…

      ‘Mum? Mummy?’

      I look up. ‘What?’

      Alex is watching me, his small face suddenly serious. ‘What is it?’

      I stare at him.

      Another face looks back at me.

      ‘Nothing.’ I stand up, forcing my brain back into the present day. ‘Put your coat on, darling. It’s time to go.’

      Allyson appears in a Cossack-style fur hat and long grey wool coat—as always, every inch the diva. ‘Let’s go, mate! Come on! Have you got your gym kit?’

      ‘I need my crayons!’ Alex bounds upstairs.

      Taking a final swig of coffee, she puts her cup down on the table with a flourish. ‘And this time I promise: no sweets, no swear words and in school on time!’

      ‘Yes. Fine.’ I move on auto pilot, clearing the table of our breakfast things.

      ‘Are you OK?’

      I scrape the toast into the bin. ‘Yes. Fine.’

      Allyson leafs idly through the magazine pages.

      ‘He’s still a good-looking man. Even after all these years.’

      ‘I’m sorry?’

      ‘That Jake Albery’ She holds up his picture. ‘Still handsome, don’t you think? God, I used to have such a crush on him!’

      My heart’s racing, hammering in my chest. I force the corners of my mouth upwards into a smile. ‘You’re showing your age, Ally’

      She laughs. ‘I know. I’m getting old. “Oh, I lock it down, I lock it down, Baby Home Wrecker’s in town!’” she sings, dancing over to the door where Alex waits, dressed and ready to go. Grabbing his hands, she whirls him into the hallway. “Oh, I lock it down, I lock it down, da, da, da, da, da, da, da!’”

      The front door opens and closes, sealing the world out.

      Lingering at the sink, I make myself wash up the plates and mugs, slowly rinsing them under the warm water.

      Then I turn the tap off.

      Fold the

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