The Spark - Jules Wake Page 0,91

Sam as she put his gift on the table next to mine.

‘Darling, did you want me to open this now?’

‘No, it can wait until later,’ said Sam. ‘Then if you absolutely hate it, you don’t have to pretend.’

‘Sam, I’m sure it will be—’

‘Blue smurf moneybox?’ he teased.

‘I’d forgotten about that,’ her face fell momentarily before her eyes, so like Sam’s, lit up with amusement, ‘but you were only seven.’ With a laugh, she turned to me. ‘Of course, the horrid thing had to go in pride of place on the mantlepiece.’

I winced in sympathy. ‘Hideous?’

‘Oh, completely. I blame Miles. I wouldn’t mind, but we’d only just had the lounge done – teal and elephant’s breath. It was all supposed to be very tasteful.’

‘This is tasteful, I promise. Isn’t it, Jess?’ He slung his arm around me.

‘Don’t bring me into this,’ I said, tipping my head up, laughing into his face. ‘I’ve only just met your mother. I want her to like me.’

‘If it’s hideous, I’ll hide it in the spare bedroom,’ said his mother, eying the parcel a little more warily now. ‘Now, would you like a drink? There’s plenty of Prosecco, or white wine, or rosé. And beer.’

‘Prosecco?’ asked Sam. I nodded as he disappeared towards the kitchen.

‘Are Lynn and Richard here?’ I asked, scanning the groups of people dotted around the immaculate lawn.

‘Not yet. But then they do have a fair distance to travel.’ Her eyes twinkled and inside I felt some of my nerves uncoil.

I laughed and glanced towards the hedge separating the two gardens. ‘I expect they’ll be the last to arrive.’

‘Yes.’ Sam’s mum laughed. ‘It’s one of those laws that really needs to have a name, like Murphy’s law or Sod’s law. They are such lovely neighbours; since the day we moved in they’ve been so welcoming and friendly. We’re so lucky. We lived in our last house for twenty years and barely spoke to the neighbours there.’

‘Yes, I’m lucky to have them. I lived with them for quite a while when I was little.’ Surprised by this admission, I added, ‘My mum was quite ill. So Lynn’s really like another mum.’ I looked toward the upper storey of Richard and Lynn’s house, which was clearly visible above the thick, leafy hedge. ‘Their house is like my second home.’

‘That’s nice.’ Her smile, although definitely a little warmer, still held a spine of cool reserve. I could see her looking around at her other guests.

‘Thank you for inviting me today. I know it must have been awkward,’ I blurted out.

‘I just want Sam to be happy.’ Her eyes, so like his, were candid and open, as she levelled a stare at me. ‘That’s all I want. I just hope he’s done the right thing.’

Ouch. My heart thudded uncomfortably and I swallowed hard at the spiky lump of disappointment lodged in my throat. Give her a chance. This is all new to her, I told myself. Sam had upset the status quo, one that she’d been quite happy with. I should be grateful I’d been invited. I opened my mouth, wanting to defend myself, but it was too important a moment to mess up and I couldn’t think of what to say, so I ended up saying nothing.

‘I really ought to circulate, but it’s nice to meet you, Jess.’ Polite enough words, but I felt the dismissal resonate through them.

I winced as I watched her walk away. It wasn’t an unconditional success, nor was it a complete disaster. I stood for a moment on my own, watching the other well-dressed guests, most of whom were in their fifties and sixties, talk and chat. They all clearly knew each other well; they had that easy camaraderie and confidence with each other. I smoothed the silk of my dress and studied the flowers in the nearest bed, recognising a few of the plants. I felt unusually lost. What had happened to Sam? Had he been ambushed by an elderly relative?

I tracked him down in the kitchen where he was talking to his dad, another man and … there she was, in all her glossy, gilded glory. A far cry from virago Victoria, the last time we’d seen her. Even so, my heart still clenched with an unwelcome sensation of anxiety and the thought of facing the enemy. But she wasn’t really, was she? I thought of my mother and the depth of her pain and how she’d let it define her for too long.

Victoria was just the person who’d