CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘Blimey, you’re up bright and early.’ Carrie rubbed her eyes, as if trying to clear the mirage that was Jade in the kitchen before nine o’clock on a Saturday morning.

      ‘I’m on a mission.’ Jade flicked her head up from her laptop. ‘Sort out flights to this place in France before Mum gets all uber-twitchy and comes up with a gazillion reasons why we can’t go. She’s finally got the deets of the village where this place is. And I’ve got an early shift at the café today. Babysitting tonight. And working at the hotel tomorrow. I’ll be rolling in the Benjamins when I get paid. Primani here I come.’

      ‘Not paying for your flight?’ asked Carrie and immediately regretted it when she saw her niece’s crestfallen face. She shouldn’t tease her; she was a good kid who most of the time pulled her weight. Her positive work ethic couldn’t be denied. If you asked her to do a job, and she wanted to do it, or acknowledged she had time to do it, you could rely on her. The trick was finding the right job and mentioning it at precisely the right moment.

      ‘I should, shouldn’t I?’ She turned to Carrie with a worried frown.

      ‘No, honey.’ Carrie laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘I was teasing you. I’m sure flights to France won’t be that expensive and you can be completely flexible about dates. Means we can get the cheapest flights.’ She winked at her niece. ‘And still be able to afford a pair of new jeans.’

      Jade pushed her hand off, laughing up at her. ‘You’re mean.’

      ‘What’s this about a new pair of jeans?’ Angela wandered in carrying a mountain of washing. ‘You’ve got enough clothes to sink a fleet of cruise ships.’

      ‘Actually,’ Jade tilted her nose in the air and said with a smug tone, ‘I told Auntie Carrie that I’d pay for my flight to France instead of buying a new pair of jeans.’

      ‘Really, darling, that’s sweet of you but you don’t have to.’ Angela put an arm around her daughter. ‘You’re saving up for your own car. That’s more important.’

      If she wanted to drive, Jade would need her own car, as Angela’s automatic, with its specially adapted steering wheel, wouldn’t be suitable.

      ‘What time do you need to be at work?’ Carrie took a quick peek at the clock. ‘I can drop you off at the café when I go to Alan’s if you’d like.’

      ‘That would be ace, thanks. I need to be there for ten- thirty. Crikey Moses, I’d better do this and get ready.’

      Carrie bit her tongue. She knew better than to query how long it took to get ready. Jade’s make-up, admittedly a work of art, took a minimum of an hour to achieve. Perhaps that was where Carrie had gone wrong in her younger days. She hadn’t cared enough about that sort of thing. Looks, appearance. There was never enough time to think about them. She was too busy living life. Teenagers these days had lots more opportunities and yet the boundaries of their lives were limited by their addiction to social media and what everyone else thought of them.

      ‘Right Mum. Sleezyjet. Luton to Nice. Piece of … cake. If we fly out on a Thursday evening its thirty-two quid. Come back on a Saturday night. Only twenty-four pounds.’

      ‘That sounds very cheap.’ Angela frowned.

      ‘Cos, no other bugger wants to fly then. Market forces. Supply and demand.’

      ‘Wow that Economics GSCE level is really paying off,’ said Carrie in mock admiration as she sauntered out of the kitchen. ‘Leave at ten-twenty.’

      ‘Sure.’ Jade was already busy tapping away at her laptop, Angela craning over her shoulder as Carrie went upstairs to take her shower.

      With a quick review of her wardrobe, Carrie yanked out a pair of jeans and her favourite pair of Converse High Tops, covered in gold sequins. She’d bought them on a whim and she adored them, despite the comments both Angela and Alan had made. She didn’t care, they were utterly gorgeous. The fact that they were comfortable was a happy coincidence. If she and Alan were going into St Albans for the day to take a look around the Cathedral and the Roman Museum, comfort was the order of the day.

      After her shower, Carrie gathered up her hair and with a ruthless tug secured it in a ponytail before wrapping it round several times into a messy bun that she skewered with a couple of decorative wooden chopsticks. She sometimes wondered if perhaps she should have it all cut off, it wasn’t as if she ever wore it down and it nearly reached her waist. She spent half of her life tidying it back into its bun. It was a constant battle, like trying to tame a small animal into submission and failing.

      Grabbing her jacket, she called for Jade. ‘Are you ready?’

      ‘Nearly,’ came the expected response from Jade’s bedroom next door.

      ‘See you downstairs. I’m leaving in two minutes.’

      ‘Okay! I said I’d be ready!’

      With a roll of her eyes, Carrie pounded down the stairs and went to retrieve her handbag from the kitchen.

      Angela pored over the laptop with an unhappy frown.

      ‘What’s the matter? Are the flights too expensive? Did Jade get it wrong?’

      ‘No. They’re fine. We can get flights for around sixty-five pounds return, which is fantastic, if we fly at funny times but that’s okay. No, the problem is getting from the airport to the village. There’s no public transport – or none that connects. And a taxi from the airport would be rather expensive. I’ll have to ask Marguerite what she does.

      ‘Are you back tonight?’

      ‘No but I’ll be back early tomorrow. Marking and planning.’ She caught sight of the clock. Easy-going and laid-back in most things, Alan did have a bit of a thing about punctuality. Being late