The Loyal Servant Read Online Free Page B

to squeeze it onto an overstuffed hook on the coat rack. She dropped her bag next to Pete’s mud-encrusted work boots and took another deep breath. She stood for a moment, just listening, half expecting one of the kids to somehow sense her return and rush into the hall and throw their arms around her. But the television continued to blare from the living room and her mother carried on clattering crockery in the kitchen at the other end of the hall. Caroline wandered towards the hiss of the boiling kettle and pushed open the kitchen door.
    Jean grabbed a tea towel to blot her soapy hands and hurried towards her daughter, smiling broadly as if she hadn’t seen her for weeks. ‘Hello, love! I’m so glad your home.’ She wrapped her arms around Caroline’s neck and squeezed tight, rocking her gently from side to side. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ she said.
    Caroline unpeeled her mother’s arms and stepped back, eyeing her suspiciously, wondering if she’d finally succumbed to some form of dementia.
    Jean was still beaming. ‘You know I think it’s the best news I’ve heard since Thatcher was forced to resign.’
    Caroline leaned towards her mother and sniffed. ‘Have you been drinking?’
    Jean shot her a disgusted look. ‘I leave that to your dipsomaniac husband.’
    ‘Oh Mum! Please don’t start.’
    ‘Well… I think you need to have a serious word. Maybe fix up an appointment with the GP. Something’s not right.’ She turned away and threw a teabag into a mug. ‘Cuppa?’
    Caroline was too weary to rise to the bait. She collapsed on a chair and laid her hands flat on the table. ‘Can we take this slowly?’
    ‘Do you want tea or not?’ Her mother waved a pyramid of tea leaves at her.
    ‘People have been making me cups of tea all night.’
    ‘Oh that’s nice, love. Where’ve you been?’
    Caroline jerked upright. ‘Didn’t Pete tell you?’
    ‘Of course he did. That’s why we didn’t wait to eat.’ Jean dug the nail of her little finger into the gap between her front teeth, pulled it out and inspected it. ‘We had fish and chips from that new place up the hill. Wasn’t bad.’
    ‘What did Pete tell you?’
    ‘That you’d be late – later than usual.’ She turned back to the kettle. ‘You should speak to your union rep – just because everyone in your office is terrified of being made redundant doesn’t give your boss the excuse to work you all like dogs.’ She poured hot water into a mug. ‘In your father’s day they would have downed tools and walked out.’
    ‘Didn’t Pete tell you why I was late?’
    Jean looked at her blankly.
    Caroline jumped up and hurried from the kitchen back into the hall and shoved open the living room door. Pete was trapped on the sofa, pinned down by a sleeping eight-year-old boy. Claire was sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing absent-mindedly with the dog’s ears, the dog thumping its tail rapidly on the rug as Caroline walked in. Both her husband and daughter appeared to be transfixed by a political correspondent on the BBC News Channel.
    ‘Would someone mind telling me what the bloody hell is going on?’ Caroline said.
    Claire groaned but didn’t answer.
    ‘Pete – could you enlighten me? I can’t get any sense out of my mother.’
    ‘You don’t know?’
    ‘Well of course I know, I was right there, wasn’t I?’
    Claire snapped her head round to look at her mother. ‘At Number 10? Really?’
    ‘What are you talking about? I was at work. That’s where it happened.’
    ‘No it didn’t. He was standing right there.’ Claire pointed at the television screen. ‘In Downing Street. I must have seen it about 20 times.’
    Caroline lifted a hand to her forehead and let out a long breath. ‘I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I wish someone would just explain—’
    ‘He said he’s resigned for personal reasons. To spend more time with his family. Does that mean he’s been caught having an