The Difference a Day Makes Read Online Free PDF

get men in to do that kind of thing. Polish ones, usually.
    ‘And look at the scenery.’ Will waves his arms around.
    I can see clouds. Lots of clouds. Grey ones. Grey like underwear you’ve had for too many years and really should throw out.
    ‘And listen.’ My husband cocks an ear in theatrical style. ‘Nothing.’ He beams at his stunned wife, his weeping daughter and his goggle-eyed, disbelieving son.
    I can hear something: sheep. Lots of sheep. All complaining. Their miserable, moaning baas carry across the fields. Sensible things, sheep.
    ‘Breathe in that air!’Will fills his lungs in an exaggerated manner.
    I inhale and all that I can smell is poo. Probably from the whingeing sheep.
    ‘Where is supermarket?’ Maya wants to know.
    Heaven knows how we’ve persuaded our nanny to come to this godforsaken place with us, but she’s here. She too, is now looking as if she bitterly regrets her decision.
    ‘Not too far,’ Will assures her. ‘It’s about half an hour from here to Scarsby.’
    Maya gasps. And not with joy.
    I turn and take in the rest of the village, unable to look at my new house any longer. An ITV newsreader and her music producer boyfriend are now ensconced in our lovely, lovely home in Notting Hill.They were bowled over by it, they said. I wonder what they’d make of this. I too am bowled over by Helmshill Grange - but not in a good way.
    The village of Helmshill looks pretty enough, even to my biased eye. In front of the Grange, there’s a neatly mown green, complete with its own textbook duck pond.The green is bounded by a genial-looking country pub and several pint-sized cottages with roses growing round the door. There’s a stone water fountain surrounded by a blush of red geraniums. A tiny, picturesque church stands at the foot of the hills. The stone is blackened with age, but the grass round the ramshackle of tombstones is neatly trimmed. I like old churches. Maybe I’ll find the time to have a wander round there sometime. So far, so very lovely. The village hall looks too small, even for the populace of this community, but there are more geraniums in hanging baskets flourishing by the door - must be all that rain. However, there’s no shop, no post office, no chi-chi little deli selling a wide selection of olives and certainly no café serving frothy cappuccino.
    Our nearest neighbour is up on the hill and to the same side of the green as the Grange. The house is an imposing modern stone place with large windows gazing down on the rest of the village in splendid isolation and I wonder, idly, who might live there.
    ‘Let’s get ourselves settled in then,’Will says, rubbing his hands together in glee. ‘Home Sweet Home.’
    Jessica howls again and is comforted by Maya, who is also crying. I have to be strong for them, so I’m digging my fingernails into my palms in an attempt to focus my pain.
    To think that I’ve given up a wonderful, high-paid, life-affirming job for this. A job that I had fought and clawed my way up to for the best part of the last fifteen years and I’ve walked away from it because my husband wanted me to. I’ve done it for Will, because that’s what marriage is all about. And, try as I might, I’m currently wishing I hadn’t.
    Maya and the children go ahead of us, but - to be honest - I can’t make my legs work. Can shock bring on paralysis?
    ‘Say you like it,’ Will urges. He puts his arm round me and gives me a bear hug. I feel that I might break. I’m trying so hard to smile that my cheek muscles are hurting with the effort. ‘I wouldn’t want to think that you’re unhappy.’
    ‘I’m not unhappy,’ I tell him. I’m desolate, despairing, desperate and devoid of all hope.
    ‘This is it!’ He beams at his new estate with proprietorial pride. ‘This is what I’ve always wanted. My own land as far as the eye can see.’ This from a man who couldn’t even be bothered to do his own gardening in Notting Hill, a man who’d much rather