Page 142 of The Sunrise Sisterhood

He chuckled. ‘There was never any danger of that. Harriet Marriott? I don’t think so.’

They laughed again and Clare felt something shift inside her; she’d spent so long being angry with him that she’d forgotten how dry his sense of humour was. Very like her own, in fact.

‘I’m a sucker for a pretty face,’ he said, dolefully. ‘Can’t help myself.’

‘Oh no you don’t,’ Clare said firmly. ‘Don’t blame your behaviour on some impossible-to-control urge. That’s just an excuse. And a crappy one at that.’

He pulled a face. ‘Blimey. I can see why they made you head teacher. You’re quite scary.’

‘It’s not funny, Dad.’ She scowled at him.

‘No, sorry,’ he said meekly. ‘I’ll take what you said on board.’

‘Good.’

‘There’s some money in that envelope for Ivy by the way.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Part of the money I asked Liz to pay me back. I’ve decided not to keep any of it.’

‘Oh, Dad,’ she said, her heart swelling with gratitude. ‘That’s very kind.’

‘And I’ve transferred the rest of it to you and Skye.’

Clare opened her mouth to argue that she couldn’t accept it, but closed it again. Accepting help still made her feel awkward, but she’d learned this summer that letting people in wasn’t as difficult as she’d once thought, and it wasn’t the sign of weakness she’d worried about either. ‘Thank you. I’m thinking of buying a house, it’ll help with the deposit.’

Skye would be grateful too, she thought; it would help with her new business venture.

Ahead of them, a farmer stepped out into the road and held up the traffic.

‘Just as well this isn’t a film and the love of your life isn’t on his way to the airport,’ said Mike grumpily as a gate opened and a herd of cows ambled dozily across the road and into the field opposite.

Clare blew out a long breath. This was torture. Sweat prickled at her hairline as well as down her spine, in addition to the ever-present patch of under-boob sweat courtesy of having to keep her dodgy arm pressed to her body.

‘How much further?’ she asked, watching the last cow meander leisurely past them.

‘Seven minutes according to the satnav,’ said Mike. ‘Although that presumably isn’t taking into account farmers who SELFISHLY move their cattle at peak times.’

He’d wound the window down and yelled this out at the farmer as they’d gone by, earning himself a rude hand gesture by way of reply. He put his foot down as they inched up the hill, but as they rounded the next corner, he slammed on the brake.

A bus and a delivery van had got wedged together in a passing place. Traffic had backed up and there was nowhere for anyone to go. Horns were tooting, drivers and passengers were sticking their heads out to voice their frustrations, and no one was moving.

‘Bloody hellfire,’ Mike spluttered. ‘This is chaos!’

A woman in the car behind got out and walked towards the bus. She was an elegant woman with a swirl of white hair, chunky pearls and a tight dress with a zip at the back from the hem to the neckline. Mike watched her progress intently, Clare noticed. At least she was more his age. She conferred with another driver and then walked back.

‘What’s happening?’ Mike asked as she came past.

‘The other side is going to back up and let the bus through,’ she confirmed. ‘I’m going to walk to the end of the queue and hold up the traffic.’

Mike whistled under her breath as she walked away. ‘What a woman.’

It took a few minutes, but eventually the bus squeezed through. As Mike’s Range Rover reached the passing place, he ground to a halt, scraped the car into the hedge again and waited as a silver car edged slowly by.

‘Thank you!’ called the driver.

‘Adam,’ Clare screeched, whipping her head round. ‘Dad, turn around, that was Adam!’

‘I can’t, love!’

‘You can. You have to!’ she yelled desperately. ‘Think of the movie scene! Please!’