The Happy Family by Jackie Kabler (electric book reader txt) 📕

be a great addition to the garden, in reality. It’ll be fun to see Finley and Eloise bouncing up and down out there, and much better for them than being glued to their screens, if I can manage to put it together without too much drama.

When it arrives mid-morning though, it actually needs a little more assembly than I thought. By lunchtime, I’m only about halfway there; one of the legs is almost impossible to attach. I finally do it, but I break two nails in the process and swear so loudly that Mum, who’s popped out to drink a cup of tea in the garden after her walk, quickly ushers an impatiently hovering Finley indoors.

‘Sorry!’ I mouth, and she winks and waves a hand.

When we come back from seeing Dad (looking even better today, and so delighted to see his grandchildren), I take a deep breath, leave the kids to watch a film with Mum, and head back out into the garden. It’s a beautiful afternoon. The daffodils along the fence are bobbing their golden heads in the gentle breeze and a bird is singing a sweet warbling tune somewhere nearby. I attack the damn trampoline with renewed gusto, but when I nip back into the house for a glass of water and a wee and then go back out again I can’t find the spring puller – the tool I’ve been using to attach the jump mat to the metal outer rings – anywhere.

‘Where the hell are you?’ I mutter, as I search the lawn, and then, in growing frustration, the entire garden – although I can’t imagine the stupid thing can have made its own way onto the patio or into one of the flowerbeds.

Did I bring it inside with me then?

I search the kitchen and the downstairs loo too, but no joy, so I go back out and scour the entire garden a second time.

Come on, things don’t just disappear, I think. Unless … could a cat or a fox or something have taken it and run off with it while I was indoors?

It doesn’t seem very likely but it’s absolutely nowhere to be seen and I can’t finish the job without it. Infuriated, I give up and, bracing myself, go and face the wrath of Finley and Eloise, who’ve been poking their heads out of the patio doors every ten minutes to check progress.

‘I’ll have to go and get another one at B&Q in the morning,’ I say. ‘I haven’t got the energy to go now and your dad will be here soon anyway to pick you up. I’m so sorry, guys.’

The disappointment on their faces is piteous.

‘How on earth can it just disappear, Mum? That doesn’t even make sense,’ says Eloise.

She’s right, it doesn’t.

‘I know, darling. Honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with me at the moment. But I’ll get it finished tomorrow, I promise. It’ll be here waiting for you when you get in from school on Monday. Oh Finley, don’t cry, come here.’

His little face has crumpled and I wrap my arms around him.

‘I was just soooooo looking forward to it today,’ he sobs, and I feel even worse. Mum, who’s been searching the kitchen again just in case, grimaces at me then comes over and squeezes Finley’s shoulders.

‘These things happen, sweetheart,’ she says soothingly. ‘And just think, it’ll be something to look forward to on Monday, won’t it? They can try it straight after school, can’t they, Beth? Even before homework?’

I nod gratefully. How does she always seem to know exactly what to say?

‘Even before homework,’ I say, and Finley looks up at me, his cheeks tearstained but a little smile playing on his lips now.

‘But we always have to do homework first,’ he says.

‘Not on Monday,’ I say, and the smile broadens to a grin.

‘YAY!’ he shouts, and leaps from my arms. Eloise grins too.

‘Nice one, Mum,’ she says.

Yes, nice one, Mum, I think, and give her a discreet thumbs-up. She returns the gesture and, calm and harmony restored, the rest of the afternoon passes uneventfully. After Jacob and Crystal have arrived and departed, kids on board, I tell Mum I’m going to have a bath and head upstairs. As I sink into the warm bubbles I find myself thinking, for some unknown reason, about Nadia. I popped over to see her again yesterday, with a cupcake from the box Lorraine had brought in to celebrate her birthday. We all met up in the staffroom at the end of morning surgery to toast her with tea and cake, although Deborah didn’t join us, saying she had too much to do. She’s definitely still acting oddly and I really need to find out why, but I’ve hardly seen her this week, apart from five minutes on Tuesday morning when I found her and Ruth chatting in the staffroom and finally told them what had happened with Brenda and Barbara.

They were gratifyingly horrified. Ruth pulled me into a bear hug and told me that if that’s how they really feel, I’m better off without them.

‘I mean, I’m shocked because they’ve always been so lovely, you know? They always seemed so fond of you, and of the kids too, Beth. I don’t get it. But that’s a really nasty thing to say. Your mum being back “takes the pressure off them”? Sod them. We’d never treat you like that.’

I felt better immediately and was about to ask Deborah if everything was OK with her when Ruth shrieked at us to ‘LOOK at the time!’ and they both ran from the room, Ruth to open the front door to let the patients in and Deborah to finish setting up her consulting room for the morning session. Since then, I’ve barely laid eyes on her, and every time I’ve swung past reception Ruth’s either been talking to a patient or on the phone so I haven’t had a chance to ask her if she knows what’s going on either. As for Brenda and Barbara, I