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clapping, a lone individual in a sea of resentment. I look up and realise it is Michael, who is so insistent that the rest of the room can only join in as Max goes up to the stage
to collect his trophy. ‘Well done, Max,’ I whisper when he returns, deciding that now is a good time to leave. Immediately.
    ‘You were obviously busy last weekend.’ I look up and see Gill nodding at our picture.
    ‘Oh, Max did most of it,’ I say, flushing red.
    ‘If you say so.’ She winks at me. ‘Just watch out for some of the more competitive mums. The sharks are circling.’
    It’s only as we’re leaving that what she means becomes apparent. There are three mums at the head teacher’s door and, to Gill’s credit, couldn’t look more sharklike
if they each had fifteen rows of teeth. ‘My Anthony spent hours putting together his painting. The one that won was obviously done by a parent.’
    I huddle down and try to leave without anyone seeing me, when I realise Michael has been swept up in the group. My first reaction is to feel a swoop of betrayal. Then he speaks.
    ‘Look, I happen to know that Max Tunstall came up with that idea himself. And are you all honestly saying you didn’t help your kids put their pictures together? Not even a little
bit?’
    The woman slinks back. ‘Not
that
much.’
    ‘I think we all need to not take this all so seriously. Don’t you?’ Then I realise the way she’s looking at him. She smiles, with a reluctant shrug. ‘I suppose
you’re right.’
    I grab the kids and shuffle them out of the door before I can hear any more.
    When I reach the car, I pile the kids in and am battling with the pushchair, when I hear a voice. ‘Well done, Max.’
    I slam shut the boot and turn round to see Michael. ‘Thanks for . . . Well, I heard what you said there to that mum.’ I look down awkwardly. ‘It was much appreciated. I
don’t think I’ll be interfering in any art projects again.’
    ‘No problem. Besides, it
was
Max’s idea.’
    ‘True,’ I reply, not that it makes me feel much better about it.
    ‘Well, we’d better run. See you around,’ he says. And as he walks away I feel my insides collapse slightly at the sight of his back.

Chapter 10
    Nearly a week and a half later, something disturbing happens. I have an
inappropriate
dream. I don’t mean it’s sexy, by the way – I could live with
that, given that I’m living the life of a puritan at the moment.
    It’s a dream about my wedding day, in which I’m at the top table during the reception, my new husband by my side as he makes a rapturous speech about how we met. But the star of this
show is not James.
    It’s Michael.
    ‘. . . so I looked up, trying to work out
who
exactly had flung the sausage roll.’ He smiles as the audience roars with laughter. ‘And there she was, the best
sausage-roll thrower in the West. My beautiful wife: Hannah.’
    I wake up fairly sharpish after that, remembering that I have a job interview today and deciding this dream definitely falls into the category of things best kept to myself.
    By the time I’ve had a cold shower, tugged on my dressing gown and skipped downstairs to make some tea, Justin is getting the kids ready, while Suzy finishes dressing. There are beads of
sweat on his brow and a pulsating vein on his temples.
    ‘Dad, can we have a talk?’ Max pipes up.
    ‘What about, Max?’ Justin asks breathlessly.
    ‘How about Stone Age weaponry?’
    ‘Not at the moment – Hannah will have a good chat with you in the car about it. Where’s your water bottle, Noah? Max, have you brushed your teeth? LEO, GET YOUR SOCKS
ON!’
    ‘Morning,’ I say, helping Leo with his socks as Justin starts tying Noah’s tie.
    ‘Oh, morning, Han,’ he replies. ‘What time’s your interview?’
    ‘Not till nine fifteen a.m. Thanks for taking over while I go.’
    ‘The office don’t mind if I need to go in a bit late every so often,’ he replies. ‘So are you feeling confident?’
    ‘I