Authors: Suzanne Miao
'Wendy.
I
rang
you
at
home.’
'I'll
kill
her,'
he
muttered
furiously.
'None
of
her
bloody
business.'
'James.'
Alice
tried
to
keep
her
temper.
'She's
your
cleaner
not
your
minder.’
He
gave
a
grunt
scanning
the
snarling
traffic
weaving
along
the
narrow
road
for
a
yellow
light.
'Al?'
he
suddenly
turned
an
anxious
face
to
hers.
She
knew
what
was
coming.
'It's
okay,'
she
sighed.
He
looked
haggard.
His
weight
had
ballooned,
the
bags
under
his
eyes
spoke
volumes
about
late
nights
with
only
Jack
Daniels
for
company.
'I
won't
say
anything.
But
if
it
happens
again
–‘
'It
won't,'
he
promised.
'It's
just
-
you
know,
Dad
and
all
that
stuff.'
Alice
studied
her
shoes
and
then
looked
back
at
him
keeping
her
voice
calm.
'It
happened
to
me
too,'
she
pointed
out.
'And
Vix.
But
in
the
last
nine
months,
I
don't
recall
either
of
us
drinking
ourselves
into
a
stupor,'
she
paused
and
added:
'And
then
get
behind
the
wheel
of
a
car.
Do
you?’
‘C’mon
Al,’
he
protested.
‘You
were
in
a
right
state
as
well.
Not
going
to
Paris
and
all
that
stuff
with
whatshisname.'
Alice
flushed.
‘Claude,'
she
snapped
back.
‘His
name
is
Claude.
Not
whatshisname.
And
that's
my
business.'
‘And
this
is
mine,’
he
waved
an
arm
towards
the
court.
'But
you’re
chipping
in.
What’s
the
difference?’
‘You
know
perfectly
well
what
the
difference
is.'
Her
voice
was
curt.
No-one
-
and
certainly
not
James
-
could
even
begin
to
understand
what
it
was
like
between
her
and
Claude:
Still
together
but
things
had
changed.
It
was
not
what
either
of
them
had
expected.
Instead
she
demanded:
‘What
if
it
had
been
Mum
who’d
called?’
‘She
wouldn't,’
he
said
instantly
gloomy.
‘It’s
me
that
does
the
ringing.
And
every
time
I
do,
she’s
shut
up
with
Conrad.
I
wish
he’d
just
get
the
probate
sorted
and
let’s
all
move
on.
Doesn't
even
seem
to
want
to
see
the
kids.'
'She's
just
not
up
to
it,'
Alice
pointed
out.
'You
know
that.'
'Oh,
God,
I
know,'
he
dragged
his
hands
down
his
face.
'I
just
thought
they
might
have
helped.
You
know?
Moved
her
along
a
bit.
Take
her
mind
off
Dad.’
Privately
Alice
thought
that
far
from
helping
steer
their
mother
into
calmer
waters,
James'
two
appallingly
behaved
children
were
more
likely
to
send
her
screaming
for
the
Valium.
Instead
she
nodded
and
squeezed
his
arm.
'Give
her
time.
Want
to
drive
down
with
me
on
Saturday?'
'Saturday?'
'Hello?'
she
mocked.
'Mum's
birthday?
Dinner?’
'Oh
Lord.
Of
course.
Sorry,
sorry,
sorry.
Just
a
lot
on
my
plate.
Work
and
stuff.
Hey,
taxi!’
He
raised
an
arm.
'Al?
Do
you
mind
if
I
grab
it?
George
wants
to
see
me.
Don't
want
him
to
get
wind
of
this.'
'No,
no,'
she
gave
him
a
little
push.
At
least
he
was
going
to
go
into
the
office.
Wendy
-
Mrs
Wendover,
James’
highly-paid
housekeeper,
probably
the
only
reason
she
had
stayed
with
him
for
so
long
-
had
let
it
slip
that
James
was
more
often
to
be
found
in
bed
these
days,
than
at
work.
Alice
made
a
mental
note
to
say
something,
but
not
today.
Today
was
bad
enough.
'Go
on,’
she
said
as
the
taxi
slowed.
'I'll
get
the
next
one.
Let
me
know
if
you
want
a
lift,'
she
called
after
him.
She
watched
the
cab
disappear
into
the
traffic
and
then
turned
to
find
another.
All
their
lives
had
been
turned
inside
out
but
these
days,
all
their
mother
seemed
interested
in
-
Alice
wrinkled
her
brow,
no,
that
wasn't
the
word,
more
fixated
that
was
it
-
was
unravelling
their
father's
estate
with
the
help
of
-
well
-
a
total
stranger.
Nothing
to
be
done
there,
thought
Alice,
standing
in
the
middle
of
the
street
on
a
warm
June
morning,
failing
to
get
a
taxi.
Nothing
had
changed.
And
besides
she
had
enough
in
her
own
life
to
wrestle
with
without
worrying
about
Conrad
Grey's
speed
-
or
lack
of
it.