Read Online Walking Back to Happiness by Lucy Dillon - Free Book Online

charges, fussing about Juliet’s still-unfinished bathroom.
    ‘We need to find Juliet a shower,’ she’d said. ‘It’s keeping me awake, thinking of her with just a bath. Anything can happen in a bath. Call me when you get in. We need to make a plan.’
    Which was why, at ten to seven, Louise was sitting at her laptop still in her suit, Toby on her knee, surfing the Net for bathroom fittings while Diane worried in her ear about Juliet’s sanitation.
    ‘Ben mentioned that they were looking for something Victorian to fit in with the house,’ said Louise, clicking through some beautiful brass showerheads with chunky enamelled taps. ‘When he was here before . . . well, you know.’
    ‘But will it work? I don’t want her living in some kind of tatty antique shop where nothing works, just because it looks right.’
    ‘No, Mum, it’s all reproduction these days.’ Diane always talked about Juliet as if she were still a flaky teenager prone to henna disasters and lost bus fares. Louise stopped at a shower that was perfect for Juliet’s house; in fact, she had a feeling it was one of the ones Ben had pointed at when she’d shown him the brochure for their bathroom. ‘Ah! I think I’ve got it. Blimey. It’s not cheap.’
    There was a muted exchange on the other end, and her father abruptly came on the phone.
    ‘Hello, love,’ said Eric. He didn’t have a lot of time for Diane’s machinations. Louise could almost hear him whipping his reading glasses off and rubbing his eyes with frustration after listening to the other side of their conversation for so long. ‘About this shower. Just get the right one and we’ll pay for it. Doesn’t matter what it costs.’
    ‘But Juliet won’t let you buy it for her. She’s really proud about things like that.’ Louise hesitated, remembering the last time she’d tried to help out, offering their old sofa. ‘She won’t like the idea of us sticking our noses in.’
    ‘I’ve a big enough nose to deal with that,’ said Eric, and recited his credit-card number.
    An hour’s conversation dealt with in under a minute; Louise had to hand it to her dad, he knew how to get things done.
    The kitchen had been a bombsite when Louise had dashed upstairs, but when she came down from putting Toby to bed, it was spotless. Three candles were flickering on the kitchen table and the good wine glasses were out.
    She looked at them stupidly, trying to work out why Peter hadn’t just used the recycled ones that went into the machine. And why he’d put linen napkins on the plates. They never used napkins – they hadn’t used napkins even when they didn’t have the machine on seven hours a day cleaning up after Toby, the human laundry-maker.
    Louise picked up the one on her plate. It still had the wedding-list crease in it. From Auntie Cathy, who’d actually said, ‘Well done, Louise, you’ll never be poor with a computer boffin!’ in the receiving line.
    ‘Is everything OK?’ she called into the utility room. She could hear the fridge opening and shutting.
    ‘That was quick.’ Peter reappeared looking flustered. He was wearing the stripy barbecue pinny over his suit, with his shirtsleeves rolled up underneath. In one hand was a bottle of wine; in the other was a chiller bucket. He smiled, showing his small white teeth, and waved at the table. ‘Sit down. Let me get you a drink – white wine OK?’
    Louise pulled out a chair. She knew she should be bowled over by this display of attention, especially since Peter had been at some big software conference all day too, but an unwelcome knot of tension had begun to turn in the base of her stomach.
    ‘Should I go back upstairs and get changed?’ she joked uncomfortably. ‘I feel a bit underdressed.’
    ‘No, you’re fine,’ said Peter, but there was a second’s hesitation, and she knew he was taking in the saggy knees of her yoga pants. Louise had pulled on her old mummy uniform of black Lycra separates as soon as she’d