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Chapter 3

Liv

Of course I know her name is Margot. But even after a few minutes in her company, I recognise her type. I’ve met a thousand versions of her in my time. Their narrowed eyes bore holes into you, searching for a flaw to help them feel better about themselves. I could be doing her a disservice. We’ll see.

‘So Margot ,’ I continue. ‘What do you do?’

‘Like you, I used to be London-based, but now I’m a full-time homemaker.’

Again, I might be misreading her, but she utters the word ‘homemaker’ with barely disguised contempt.

‘How old are your kids?’ I ask.

‘My eldest turns thirteen in a few months and her brother is eleven.’

‘Tricky ages. They must keep you busy.’

Her smile is tight. ‘I’m very hands-on, so I barely have a minute to myself.’

I catch Anna raising an eyebrow ever so slightly, suggesting Margot isn’t quite as she’d like me to believe. I’m not saying to be an involved parent you must neglect yourself, but she is turned out almost too well. Nails perfectly manicured, no visible grey roots in that thick, shoulder-length head of auburn hair, and a wrinkle-free face. There are hints of freckles under her make-up that start at her pronounced cheekbones and spread under eyes that are so green, I’m not entirely convinced she’s not wearing coloured lenses.

‘You must have help with the kids if you’re planning to launch your own business too?’ Margot asks.

‘Actually, Brandon’s taking a career break to be a full-time dad. It made financial sense.’

‘Must have been a little emasculating for him,’ she says – a presumption, not a question.

‘Not at all, it was his idea. What did you do before you became a homemaker?’

‘Oh, that’s a long story,’ she replies, but I’m left with the impression she’d like me to ask more.

‘Who wants another mince pie?’ I say instead, then I answer my phone when it rings. ‘How goes it, babe?’ Brandon grins via FaceTime. The kids are behind him, strapped into their car seats and waving vigorously. I left London at the crack of dawn, long before my family stirred.

‘All good here. Whereabouts are you?’

‘Junction two of the M1. We’d only just reached it when Imogen needed a wee.’

‘We have guests,’ I say, and angle the camera towards Anna and Margot, who smile stiffly at a man they’ve never met. ‘Brandon, meet our new neighbours Anna and Maggie – sorry, Margot . Guess what Anna brought with her? Homemade mince pies.’

‘Well, you two are going to be BFFs then,’ he says.

I don’t think Margot realises I can see the reflection of her rolling her eyes in the screen.

I wander into the hallway and explain what’s left to bring in from the lorries. It’s as I’m returning that I hear Margot talking to Anna.

‘Should you really be eating a second?’ she’s saying, pointing to the mince pie in her hand. ‘Salad can taste nice too, you know.’

An embarrassed Anna moves the pastry from her mouth and back to her plate.

I enter and Margot rises to her feet, patting out the creases from her skirt. Anna follows and I wonder what the dynamic is between them.

‘We should leave you to get on with it,’ Anna says.

‘Brandon and I were thinking of having a small get-together on New Year’s Eve,’ I say as I lead them towards the front door. ‘It’s short notice and you probably already have plans, but it’s our way of apologising to the neighbours for all the noise the remodelling must’ve brought.’

‘It has been quite loud at times,’ Margot says.

‘Why don’t you come over if you’re free?’

‘I’d love to,’ says Anna.

‘Nicu and I already have a few offers,’ Margot replies, ‘but if we can make time, we’ll drop by.’

‘Oh, yes, well you’re more than welcome to come too,’ I add, unable to resist a final opportunity to tease. Her face turns the colour of the wine she gave me.

Of course Margot will come. She won’t be able to resist. I press the AirDrop symbol on my phone, select both their mobiles and send them my telephone number.

‘I’ll text you with times,’ I add. ‘Thanks again for coming over with the mince pies. Oh, and the wine.’

I give them a wave and close the door behind them. Then I remove the cork from Margot’s bottle and pour myself a very full glass.