A Perfect Home Read Online Free Page B

head teacher’s retreating back. ‘She insisted that I go on this stall – what does she expect me to do, stand back and admire it? Surely she doesn’t think I got to look like this on a diet of rice cakes and lettuce, it takes hard work. I’m like an elite athlete – they need to go to the gym all the time to maintain their physiques, I need to eat chocolate brownies and Tunnocks tea cakes to maintain mine.’ With a wiggle of her hips Sally pushed up her cleavage and smoothed her bright red top over her generously rounded stomach.
    â€˜What do you think?’ Claire had come round to look at her stall from the front. She balanced Ben on one hip as she surveyed it, her head tilted, a critical expression on her face. ‘Maybe there are too many cushions on the right-hand side.’
    â€˜It looks fantastic – look out Cath Kidston!’
    Ben made a lunge for Sally’s stall. Claire held onto him with a firm grip.
    â€˜I wish William would hurry up.’
    â€˜I’m sure he’ll be here soon,’ Sally reassured her. ‘I expect he’s caught in traffic. Does Ben want one of these raspberry buns? I don’t imagine they’ll be very popular. I just can’t think who made them.’
    â€˜I can’t think either,’ said Claire. ‘But at least they tried. I bet you haven’t contributed a thing.’ Sally pulled herself up tall and pointed proudly to a lemon drizzle loaf. ‘Don’t go casting aspersions about me, Claire Elliot, don’t tell me I don’t contribute.’
    Claire’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Wow, Sally, that looks delicious. For someone who says they’d rather go through childbirth again than bake a cake, you’ve done really well.’
    After a moment’s pause Sally’s pretty face creased into laughter.
    â€˜Do you really think I could have made a lemon cake? I can’t even put a fish finger in a cold oven without burning it.’
    Claire picked up the golden loaf and looked at it. ‘But isn’t that your handwriting on the label?’
    Sally took it back from her and put it prominently in the centre of her stall. ‘Oldest trick in The Bad Mother’s Handbook – buy the cheapest cake you can find in Tesco, take it out of its packaging, bash it up a bit on top, wrap cling film around it, stick on a hand-written label, et voilà – instant brownie points. I made sure Mrs Wenham saw me produce four of those from my bag, she even asked me to put one by for her to give to Mr Wenham for his tea.’
    Claire shook her head at her friend. ‘I’ve known you for over ten years and you never cease to amaze me,’ she said. ‘How do you do it? I’d never get away with that scam; I’m hopeless at telling lies.’
    â€˜Are you?’ Sally’s eyebrows rose. ‘What about those mushy raspberry things?’
    Claire raised her hands in surrender. ‘OK they’re mine.’
    â€˜I knew it.’ Sally laughed. ‘Only you would use such pretty cupcake cases.’
    Mrs Wenham’s haughty voice crackled through the tannoy and suddenly people were pouring into the school yard. Within seconds Claire’s stall was surrounded by enthusiastic mothers exclaiming with oohs and aahs of delight, snatching up items and clutching them possessively in case anyone else should get hold of them.
    Claire still had Ben hoisted on her hip and with one hand she started slipping things into paper bags and taking money as a stream of sales began.
    Emily appeared, begging to have her face painted, and Oliver sauntered over to tell Claire she owed the meat roast stall one pound for the burger he held in his greasy hands. Tomato sauce dripped from his bun onto a small tote bag that Claire had been particularly pleased with.
    â€˜Look what you’ve done, Oliver,’ Claire cried.
    â€˜That’s spoiled now,’ said a mother from the