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

let the kids come, is he? Nobody’s going to come, no matter what she says. And do I actually want them all to come anyway, when I know one of them has caused all this misery for me? Some party that’s going to be.

I laughed a bitter little laugh, then looked at my wine glass, and at the empty bottle sitting beside it. I got up, slowly, and headed for the fridge.

Chapter 34

‘Right, I’m just going out to pick up the bubbly. I won’t be long.’

I pop my head into the kitchen where Mum is putting the finishing touches to a tray of canapés: little arancini balls and tiny lamb and feta burgers with mint sauce dip. They look delicious, and to my surprise I’m hungry; I’m looking forward to tucking in. Looking forward to this party. Because, somewhat miraculously, we are having a party. Mum’s been vague about the final guest list, but I know that Jacob and Crystal are coming, and that they’re bringing Eloise and Finley, and that’s really all I care about. Ruth’s coming too, and some of the others from work, apparently; I haven’t really asked. Whoever turns up, turns up. I just want to see my babies again, and let Mum celebrate her birthday, and not think about the fact that one of these party guests is, almost definitely, the person who knows all about me and Lucy Allen. The person who’s spent the past couple of months making me pay for what I did. Maybe one day I’ll find out who was behind it, and why. Maybe I won’t. I can’t trust any of them ever again, I know that. I’m just hoping that it’s finally over. That what they did to punish me was enough. That we can all move forwards now.

And so I’ve painted on a smile for Mum, and weirdly, it’s worked. Over the past couple of days I’ve felt better than I have in weeks. I’ve gone shopping to buy ingredients and balloons, ordered champagne, and cleaned the house until it sparkles. I’m looking forward to sipping a little bubbly tonight; I took a few days off the booze this week after scaring myself on Saturday night. Alone in the house after Mum went off to Cornwall, I drank far too much and fell asleep on the sofa, only to wake just after eleven, head aching, eyes dry and sore. I lay there for a few moments, trying to reorientate myself. I realised I hadn’t even closed the curtains, and was slowly dragging myself into a seated position when a movement outside the window caught my eye.

A face, again, small and white, pressed against the glass. I screamed, shrinking back against the cushions, whimpering with fear, but just as suddenly as it had appeared, the face vanished again, melting away into the blackness of the garden. I sat there, shaking, eyes fixed on the dark space where it had been, but there was nothing. Eventually I got up, pulling the curtains across with trembling hands. It had been my imagination, I was sure of that. Too much wine, too much stress. I was hallucinating again, and that frightened me so much I stuck to water for the rest of the week and felt better for it. I didn’t mention the reappearance of the face to Mum, of course, and I made a silent vow to be careful this evening.

‘Not too much, Beth,’ I said to myself as I laid out plates and napkins, polished glasses, and found bowls to fill with nibbles. ‘Not too much. Just a couple of glasses.’

Now, with just hours to go before everyone arrives at six-thirty, I head out to the off-license to pick up our order. The assistant is helping me load it into the boot of my car when he frowns.

‘Got a flat tyre there, luv. Won’t get far on that.’

I look at the wheel he’s pointing at and curse under my breath. Dammit. The tyre is, indisputably, flat as a flounder.

‘Bugger,’ I say. ‘I’ll have to call the RAC. I hope they’re quick; this party starts in less than two hours.’

The breakdown service does come relatively quickly – a smilingly efficient man in a luminous orange jacket. But by the time he’s done and I’m on the road again, it’s rush hour, so by the time I reach Prestbury it’s after six-thirty and I’m in a panic. I haven’t even changed yet, haven’t wrapped the lovely silver wristwatch I’ve bought Mum, who insisted I keep my gift for her to open tonight. Now I’m out of time; this is not how I wanted this to go, and I feel furious at myself for not going out earlier, for leaving it all to the last minute.

Mum must be going crazy too, wondering where I am, I think, and I wonder why she hasn’t called. I’m puzzled – that is quite strange, actually – and I glance at my phone on the passenger seat, but there are no missed calls showing on the screen, and then I forget all about it because I’m pulling into the driveway and—

Oh no!

There’s a little huddle of people outside the front door. I cut the engine and stare at them for a moment, even more perplexed now. Jacob and Crystal and the children – my beautiful, beautiful children, dressed in their party finery – are standing there with Robin.

Robin? Why on earth would Mum invite Robin, after all the things she said about her?

Deborah’s there too, with Ruth and Gabby. I look at her uneasily, and then I see Brenda and Barbara, and my stomach lurches. There’s a cluster of other familiar faces, all of them clutching bags and bottles, all of them turning to look at me as I get out of the car.

Oh bugger. I’m not sure this was a good idea after all, but they’re here now, I think. Why are they all standing in the driveway though?

‘Erm … hello!’ I say brightly.