Page 47 of A Clean Sweep

I t had been almost a week since Celeste had confronted Michael and discovered his rekindled relationship with Sophie.

An agonising, terrifying week with the two of them passing like ships in the night.

Michael had moved his things into the guest bedroom by the time she'd returned home, the door firmly closed behind him.

They'd barely exchanged more than a handful of words and mealtimes were tense and punctuated only by the clatter of cutlery or scraping of plates.

Celeste desperately wanted to make things right but she hadn't a clue where to begin.

Or if the gulf between them was too great and Michael was just biding his time before telling her he was leaving.

Every time she imagined the words she felt sick to her stomach.

Even more so, because she'd had the power all those years ago to change the course of their history.

If she'd encouraged her husband to see Sophie, welcomed his daughter into their lives, everything would have been so different. Berating herself for the hundredth time she wished she had done things differently. She might never have come close to being a mother to Sophie but maybe they would have become friends. And Michael would have revelled in his role as doting dad and grandfather. He was clearly doing that now, but the chances of Celeste and Sophie ever picking up the pieces were virtually nil. Judging by Sophie’s expression when Celeste saw her for the first time, she made Disney villainesses look like paragons of virtue and loveliness.

Michael was out. She'd heard the front door slamming a little earlier.

He'd offered no explanation as to where he was going.

Not that she needed one. She'd heard him murmuring on his phone about an hour ago and it was clear he was speaking to Sophie.

No need to hide it anymore. The ugly truth was out there.

Michael was with his family and there was no place for Celeste in their cosy unit.

For want of something to keep her mind occupied she switched on her computer.

There were several new messages in her inbox.

One was from Tea Break , asking if she could be available next week for the interview and photo session.

The cheque had arrived a couple of days ago and Celeste had shoved it in her bedside drawer.

There was no way now she could share her news with Michael.

All her joyous thoughts of celebrating becoming a published writer with him had been reduced to dust. She was half-tempted to contact the magazine and withdraw her story.

Return the cheque and forget the whole sorry affair.

The thought of having to smile for a photo shoot and babble away about her wonderful life to some hack journalist filled her with dread.

'Yes, I'm delighted to have come second in the competition.

It's just a shame that my lovely husband is about to divorce me because I'm a self-centred old bitch who thinks the world revolves around her.

But hey, you reap what you sow!' No, that probably wasn't quite what they expected.

Although the Tea Break readers might experience a frisson of –what was the word again?

– Sigmundfreud. Something about getting pleasure from someone else's misfortune.

Aware that she was in danger of sliding deeper into a pit of misery, Celeste figured there was only one person she could really talk to.

Who might actually be happy for her small success and take a slightly less harsh view of the situation she was in.

Emily. As sisters went they weren't exactly close – was she close to anyone , except Michael?

– but Emily had a kind heart and a non-judgemental take on life.

Driving to Emily's house Celeste knew it would have been better to call her first but she'd been afraid of bursting into tears on the phone. There was every possibility she would be out but she'd take the chance.

Pulling into the driveway, Celeste was surprised to see a van with ‘Up Yours’ written on the side parked just in front of the garage.

What a rather rude name. What kind of business was it, she wondered.

Still, its presence meant that Emily was probably at home having something or other repaired.

She rang the bell and waited. Nothing. She tried again, still no sound of approaching footsteps.

Glancing upwards she saw the bedroom curtains twitch a fraction.

How strange. Maybe ‘Up Yours’ was a plumbing company and they were currently inspecting her u-bend or a faulty shower head.

Which didn't fully explain why someone had just peeked through the curtains instead of answering the door.

Finger at the ready to ring again, Celeste could make out a shadowy figure approaching the door.

It swung open and there was Emily. Looking, it had to be said, rather dishevelled.

Her hair looked like it had been attacked by a garden rake and – hang on a minute – her T-shirt appeared to be on back to front.

'Hi! Celeste! What a surprise! What are you doing here?' Emily's tone of voice suggested her sister's visit was about as welcome as a bunch of leaflet-wielding Jehovah's Witnesses. Something was definitely amiss.

'Sorry, Em. I should have rung but I just needed to get out the house.

I really need to talk to you but if it's not a good time …

' Celeste halted as she heard the distinct sound of footsteps descending the stairs and approaching the door.

Emily stepped back, clearing the way for whoever it was to pass.

Celeste took a step back too as a tall, dark and very handsome young man appeared before her.

He also looked distinctly flustered, although his clothes seemed to be on the right way round.

'Celeste, this is Joe. Joe, this is my sister, Celeste.

Joe was just leaving, weren't you, Joe? Had another spot of bother with the chimney but all sorted now.

Thank you, Joe. See you soon … I mean, if I get another blockage, that is.

' Joe had shaken Celeste's proffered hand, glanced at Emily, then sped to his van with indecent haste.

Luckily Celeste's Audi wasn't blocking him in and he performed an expert manoeuvre before vanishing from view.

A stunned Celeste followed a clearly flustered Emily into the house.

'Give me two minutes and I'll be with you.

I just need—' She bolted up the stairs, leaving Celeste gazing in bewilderment at her departing back.

Unsure what to do, she wandered into the living room.

Took in the sight of the fireplace looking spotlessly clean and clearly unused recently.

Plus, hadn't Joe been upstairs as opposed to working in the living room?

She knew there were no fireplaces there.

Which meant either he did other jobs on the side or …

Oh my goodness! The whirring cogs and gears in Celeste's brain clicked into place.

She sat down hastily, all thoughts of her own news driven away by this shocking revelation.

At that moment, Emily burst into the living room, her T-shirt righted and her hair marginally tidier.

'Cup of tea? Coffee? Or would you like something cold?

I've got a really nice juice bl end with beetroot in it; it's meant to be good for lowering blood pressure. '

Celeste couldn't decide whose blood pressure was the highest at that precise moment.

Emily's neck and cheeks were suffused with a deep red flush and she could feel her own heart pounding away as if she'd just completed a 10K run.

'Emily, are you having sex with that man?

' No point in beating about the bush. She didn't need to be a genius to work out what was going on.

It was written all over her sister's face.

'Yes. I am. I mean, we were. But it's not what you think,' stammered Emily.

'I know you're probably thinking I'm having some mid-life crisis and decided a quickie with the chimney sweep would spice up my life but it's not like that.

We've been seeing quite a lot of each other – evidently, thought Celeste, judging by their rapid dressing – and I really like him.

Really, really like him. And he feels the same way.

' Emily now looked less flustered and more defiant, her chin raised as if daring her sister to voice her criticism.

'But – darling – he's just so young! I'm all for you dating someone, Lord knows it's been long enough since Jim passed away but don't you think it's a little …

inappropriate?' That wasn't the first word that had come to mind.

Sordid, sleazy and downright disgusting had all been contenders but she'd bitten them back, aware that they would not be well received.

Not that inappropriate had gone down well either.

Emily's face was thunderous as she sat down opposite her, balling up the hem of her T-shirt with hands that looked equally capable of grabbing Celeste by the throat.