Deception Read Online Free PDF Page B

to fend for myself. Such a prospect was too bleak to imagine, even now, but millions of people did it and managed. I just had to get used to the idea that it was getting more and more likely in my case.
    Meanwhile, I headed for the kitchen.
     
    *
     
    There were three people seated at the kitchen table as I entered. One was Jonti, the second was Miranda.
    The third person was my mother. Who I hadn’t seen or spoken to for over a year.
    I’m sure she registered the shock on my face, but there was no expression on her face at the sight of me beyond a slight tightening of her lips.
    Miranda, being the good hostess she was, stood up immediately the moment I appeared, her chair scraping back on the floor tiles. The wattage in her smile lit up the whole kitchen.
    “Good afternoon, sleepyhead. Nice to see you up and about at last.”
    I ran a hand through my still damp hair and gave a wan greeting in acknowledgement. “Um...hi, yes, sorry I overslept,” I mumbled, sliding into the chair at the end of the wooden table. It was so obvious from the expressions on their faces that I had been the subject of their discussion. No surprise there then.
    “Not a problem. May I get you some breakfast?” my sister in law continued, using the same cheerful tone of voice that some nurses are occasionally wont to use on their more obstreperous patients.
    “No, really, Miranda, you don’t have to wait on me, I can manage,” I began, half rising from the chair, but she waved me down again and sort of snickered.
    “Don’t be silly, Bailey. You stay right where you are, darling, and chat to Mother Lara. Isn’t it great she’s come to visit us? It’s been absolutely ages since we last saw her. Now, toast and coffee coming up. Am I right? Or do you want eggs too? Maybe some eggy fried bread? Jonti likes his that way, don’t you, Cuddles?”
    While she blathered on, whirling around the kitchen, going from counter to stove, doing all the housewifely things expected of her, I could feel Jonti’s eyes swivelling guiltily between our mother and myself. I imagine my own eyes were somewhat fixed and dilated. But it was no good pretending she didn’t exist, or trying to ignore her, so I cleared my throat, though I’m pretty sure it still sounded gruff, and spoke to her finally.
    “So, what brings you here?” I asked, meeting her eyes at last.
    “Now there’s a warm welcome, to be sure,” she said by way of reproof, and picked up her cup, taking a sip of coffee and dabbing at her lips delicately with a cloth napkin as she replaced the cup neatly in the saucer. The imprint of her lipstick left a faint smudge on the edge of the napkin. “Hello to you, too, dear.”
    I flushed at the implied rebuke. “Nobody told me you were coming.”
    She tinkled a laugh. “Goodness. I hope I don’t stand on ceremony. Do I need an invitation to come and visit my children and pregnant daughter-in-law?” she replied, giving an indulgent smile in Miranda’s direction.
    I glanced across the table at Jonti’s unhappy face. He was trying to avoid my gaze.
    “She rang earlier,” he ventured, by way of explanation. “You were still in bed.”
    I glowered at him. “And you told her I was staying here, of course.”
    He shrugged. “She wheedled it out of me. And I couldn’t very well tell her not to come round, now could I?”
    My mother’s brightly painted lips pursed, and her still lovely green eyes flickered between my brother and me in cool amusement.
    “Bailey, Jonti. Darlings. Please don’t talk around me as if I wasn’t here or was so aged and decrepit that I am unable to understand a word of what you’re saying, although occasionally, I admit, conversation between you two can be difficult to comprehend to any outsider who may be listening. And if the mountain, as they say, won’t come to Mohammed...”
    She was gazing at me now in some fascination, glossy brown head tilted to one side as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was