Good Girls by Amanda Brookfield

Author:Amanda Brookfield [Brookfield, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books

Rapidly and unexpectedly, the dinner party grew enjoyable. It helped that the wind, like a fan turned off at the mains, suddenly dropped, leaving a balmy warmth that caressed their bare skin. The pool, with its underwater lights, became a huge emerald mirror. On the table, the candles glinted in their vases like jewels in glass cases. The steaks were buttery-soft and Nick highly praised for his outdoor cooking skills. Jim’s wines slid smoothly over the tongue and throat, making any resentment about being forced to consume them seem churlish. When Mike got out his iPad to start making notes of the grapes and labels, Jim insisted that he would organise a visit to Dean Cobalt’s vineyard. A multi-course lunch of tastings for all six of them – it would be his treat and a great day out, he boomed, in the tone he favoured, the one that defied contradiction.

Donna floated off to the kitchen with the dirty plates and floated back again, bearing a tray of mountainous fruit salad, home-made chocolate brownies and a tub of organic vanilla ice cream. As it was the weekend they had sent their kitchen help home. After setting the food on the table, she took a detour to her own chair via Nick’s, pausing to trail her fingers up the back of his neck and under the cuff of his hair. He was being forgiven. An involuntary shiver of pleasure rippled over his skull. Maybe the forgiveness would stretch to sex. That didn’t happen often. Nick rubbed his arms, aware of the shiver of pleasure disappearing as quickly as it had come. He caught his father-in-law watching him, steel flashing in the dark blue eyes, as sharp as any sword.

After their guests had gone, and they were clearing up, the atmosphere of truce prevailed; an atmosphere that Nick, as ever, felt little inclination to jeopardise with defensive questions or recriminations about what had gone before. With Donna, saying the wrong thing was akin to pressing a detonator. Shouting, hitting. Sometimes things got thrown.

She had her back to him and was busy transferring the leftover salads to smaller containers for stowing in the fridge. The pulses had barely been touched. ‘Daddy says he is going to put one of the flats in the new Waterfront condo in trust for Sash and Nat. Like a nest egg for them. Isn’t that insanely generous?’

‘Goodness, yes. Insane.’

She spun round, her cat-eyes wide with the readiness to take affront. ‘Are you taking the piss?’

‘No. I am agreeing.’ Nick found a laugh escaping. Her quickness to take offence was absurd and yet somehow always caught him off guard.

She spun back to the fridge, restacking shelves to make room for the Tupperware. ‘With your recent midlife career crisis it makes me feel more secure, anyway. For the girls’ future, if not my own.’

‘I haven’t had a career crisis.’ Nick braced himself. He had hoped the truce might be more resilient, one of those that lasted for several days.

‘No, right. A top consultant wanting to become a teacher.

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