Page 48 of A Clean Sweep

'Yes, he's young. And don't think for a minute that doesn't worry me too.

I've had many sleepless nights stressing about it.

Wondering if everyone will laugh at me behind my back.

The merry widow making hay with her toy boy lover.

The thing is, he asked me out. On a date.

I didn't lunge at him like some sex-starved suburban housewife who fancied a bit of rumpy pumpy because she was bored and desperate.

We have fun together, we chat all the time, he tells me I'm beautiful and when I'm with him that's exactly how I feel.

I know you don't approve and I'm not asking for your approval.

Just bear in mind we can't all be like you and Michael, so loved up and snug in your own perfect little utopian world. Forgive me but, if being with Joe makes me happy, who are you to pass judgement?' Emily had apparently run out of things to say. Now it was Celeste’s turn to speak, and to shatter her sister’s illusions.

She cleared her throat and began, her voice shaky and hoarse.

'You think I have the perfect life? Maybe I did up until a week ago but it was a life built on lies and a woeful lack of communication.

Now it's all blown up in my face and I don't deserve an ounce of sympathy.

I know I don't but I wanted to speak to you about it.

There isn't another soul in the world I can talk to.

Michael's going to leave me and I honestly don't think I can go on without him. '

Deciding against hot beverages and juice in favour of a large glass of red each, Celeste and Emily faced each other over the kitchen counter.

A box of tissues was between them, along with a bowl of stuffed olives and slivers of parmesan drizzled with balsamic vinegar.

Neither had any appetite for food. Celeste had filled her sister in on the whole Sophie story, how she sincerely regretted her actions but could see no way of putting things to rights.

Emily had always known about Michael's family history but assumed he and Celeste had talked it over, made their peace.

She often wondered if Michael missed his daughter but seeing him and Celeste together convinced her that they were that rare thing.

A truly contented couple inhabiting a world largely untroubled by the wants and needs of others.

Hearing Celeste now, she realised her view of their world was that of an uninformed outsider, privy to little more than scraps of information.

If they'd been closer all those years ago perhaps she would have persuaded her big sister to bring Sophie into the fold.

To hell with the bitter and twisted ex-wife.

Why did people muck things up so badly? Were we all so fixated on looking after number one that we forgot to look at the bigger picture?

Emily didn't think she was a selfish person.

Her focus over recent years had been Tabitha, her proudest achievement and biggest cause of concern.

She'd never really worried about Celeste and her circle of friends was small and unchallenging.

Until she met Joe she'd resigned herself to a mundane life of work, socialising and counting off birthdays on the calendar.

Then she met Joe and it was like being lit up from within.

Not just the sex – incredible as it was – but the sense of being in a good place.

A happy, positive and uplifting place. She still couldn't predict where it was going, but the journey was one she would never regret.

What was the saying? Better to travel hopefully than arrive.

Second glasses poured, Emily was relieved that Celeste was less tearful but still twitchier than a drug addict on methadone. There was clearly something else on her mind, aside from the whole Michael/Sophie thing.

'I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me. And you absolutely don't have to but I'm listening. It's been quite a day of confessions so step up and fess up.'

Celeste swirled her glass around. Should she tell Emily about her writing?

Why not? It was time she shared it with someone, even if her success was now tainted by her misery.

'I know you're going to laugh but I've been up to something.

Something I kept secret from Michael. No, I haven't been having it away with the window cleaner’ – cue nervous laughter on both sides – ‘I’ve been writing.

A book. Well, a novella, at least. Not as long but still bloody hard work.

It's won second place in a competition. I never thought I could write anything worth publishing.

Never thought I could do anything of note, to be honest. Right now, I should be happiest woman in the world but I've never felt more wretched.

You're the smart one; I'm the pathetic big sister who screws everything up. '

Emily leaned over, grabbed Celeste’s hand and squeezed it tight. 'That is amazing ! Well done, you! Tell me more. What's it about and where's it going to be published?'

As Celeste outlined the plot of her opus, Emily sensed a feeling of deja vu. The character names were so familiar, the storyline as fresh as a newly-blossomed daisy in her mind. It couldn't be … could it?

'So, did you write it under your own name, or did you … ?’ She waited, still unable to process what her brain was yelling at her.

'No, I used a nom de prune. Figured my own name was a bit dull, so I went for Astra Du Bois.

Nice touch, don't you think?' Celeste looked gratifyingly pleased with herself.

Emily swallowed back the urge to laugh like a demented hyena.

What a day so far! Her sister had discovered she was sleeping with a stripling of a lad, she'd learned that Celeste's enviable marriage was coming apart at the seams and now she knew the sex-stuffed manuscript she'd edited and admired was actually the product of her sister's fertile imagination.

What next? Probably a text to Joe apologising for the interruption earlier and suggesting a rematch as soon as possible.

The very thought took her back to Leo and Seraphina territory.

Her sister wrote that? Just went to show you never knew someone.

Not really. Which led her back to the whole Michael/Sophie issue and what – if anything – she could do to help.

'Have you thought of contacting Sophie directly?

No, hear me out.' Emily saw the raw panic in Celeste's face and cut her off before she could protest. 'Why don't you ring her, suggest you meet?

What have you got to lose? Michael's never going to give her up now.

You won't get through this unless you actively do something!

I don't believe Michael wants to let you go, but he's completely torn between the past and the present. Do something, Celeste. You have to.'

Celeste was on her way home. Her initial shock at Emily's younger lover had given way to an acceptance that different things worked for different people.

She could no more imagine sleeping with a thirty-something than chartering a rocket to the moon but that was how she was made.

Michael was engrained in her like the wording on a stick of Blackpool rock.

Bite off a piece and the message remained the same. Together for always.

Pacing around the bedroom – Michael was home but closeted away in his study – Celeste scrolled through her contacts.

She wasn't proud of herself but she'd accessed Michael's phone again a few days ago and found Sophie's number.

To dial or not to dial. That was the excruciating question.

She'd probably hang up the instant she knew who was calling.

And she wouldn't blame her. Not in the slightest. Roles reversed, she knew what her reaction would be.

Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. She pressed ‘Call’ and waited.

'Hello? Sophie here. Who's calling?' Celeste counted down silently from ten to zero.

This was it. 'It's Celeste, Sophie. Probably the last person in the world you want to talk to.

I know we have nothing in common but there is one person we both care about.

Your dad. I completely understand if you want nothing to do with me but I'd like to meet up with you.

Try to explain my side of things. Which is feeble and grasping at straws but it's all I have.

I don't like myself and I don't expect you to like me either but could we please at least try to chat?

Then, if you still hate me I'll disappear and let you get on with your lives. '

Total silence. But no tone that indicated she'd hung up. Celeste felt sure she would faint if she had to wait a moment longer.

'Sure. The garden centre where we ran into each other?

How about lunch there tomorrow? The quiches are excellent and the salads not too shabby either.

I'm a bit tired of all the pretence and bullshit.

Let's just see how it goes?' She ended the call, Celeste feeling like she'd had her head in the noose only to receive a last-minute stay of execution.

Sophie was willing to see her. Baby steps for now.

She headed up to bed, pausing to say ‘Goodnight' to Michael.

No reply. Her chest tightened. Everything hinged on what happened when she met up with Sophie.

Emily could be sleeping with every tradesman from Bucks to Berks but that had little bearing on Celeste's life.

She had to find a way to fix her marriage – and fast.