Page 85 of The Sunrise Sisterhood

‘I said no, obviously,’ Liz had assured her.

‘Say yes.’ Jen had a glint in her eyes. ‘Ring him up and say you’ve changed your mind, you were in shock and didn’t think it through, but you’re flattered, et cetera, et cetera.’

‘Hold on.’ Liz had blinked in surprise. ‘You want me to be a godmother to Frankie and Mike’s baby? Why?’

‘Think about it,’ said Jen, digging into the bowl of crisps in front of them. ‘You can be my spy in the camp. Well, not spy, just, you know, find out what she’s like. Clare is going to be spending time with a woman who’s not me or you. I mean, should I be worried? And …’ she’d hesitated, looking vulnerable for a moment, ‘I know I shouldn’t care, but I want to know what she’s got that I haven’t.’

And because Liz would do anything for Jen, she’d agreed, thus keeping both Mike and Jen happy. But that didn’t stop her feeling uncomfortable about the whole thing as she’d stood beside the font at Skye’s christening promising to perform her duties as godmother.

As it had turned out, Liz’s opportunities to report back to Jen had been few and far between. Frankie had seen to that, understandably not welcoming the ex-wife’s best friend into her home. As the years had rolled by, Jen had been less interested in what Mike was up to and more determined not to let him buy Clare’s affection with expensive gifts. What their daughter needed, Jen would supply herself, or from the child maintenance payments he made to her.

Liz admired her for that; it was a good feeling to know that what you had you’d got on your own merit. But there was a graciousness to receiving help when it was offered that had passed Jen by.

Liz remembered the day she’d realised that when her parents died Clemency House would belong to her. She’d been consumed with guilt, knowing that she was going to receive such a wonderful gift and feeling that she’d done nothing to deserve it.

Her father wasn’t having any of it.

‘Don’t underestimate the joy your mother and I will get from knowing that our family home will one day belong to our only daughter,’ he had said. ‘Smoothing the way for your children is as much a gift for the older generation as it is for the younger. Don’t deny us that happiness by feeling guilty about it.’

After she and Jonathan had parted ways, it had been to her mother and Clemency House Liz had returned. Her father had already passed away and the two women had comforted each other. The house had been her sanctuary and her happy place ever since.

Mike had been frustrated by Jen’s stubbornness not to allow him to spend money on Clare. It had been up to Liz to remind him that when he’d walked out on his wife and child, he’d forfeited the right to criticise her choices.

Liz had always been there for him. Always. She’d never been able to say no. Like that day the girls were talking about: Clare’s graduation and Skye’s birthday treat. Liz had felt sick with terror earlier when they’d been discussing it. What a risky game Mike had played, assuming that neither of them would ever discuss the day when he’d let them both down. He should have told Frankie and Skye the same story as he’d told Clare and Jen: that he had an unavoidable work commitment. Silly man.

Anyway, regardless of the lies he’d told back then, her lie by omission felt much worse. She knew exactly where Mike had been that day because he’d been with her. She’d never told a soul and she never would. Mike had sworn her to secrecy; she wouldn’t let him down.

Liz folded the empty paper bag, brushed a few stray crumbs from her chest and left her spot. She picked up a little beach toy for Ivy and then the sign for the bookshop caught her eye, and she dipped into the little alleyway and headed inside.

She’d known the owner a long time; Jess had a knack of finding exactly the right book for every customer. Liz gave her the brief: something a new mum can escape into, nothing dreary or grim. Five minutes later, she was back on Fore Street with a copy of Maeve Binchy’s Circle of Friends and a list of suggestions for what Clare might like to read next.

‘Liz!’ She turned at the sound of a woman’s voice and spotted a raised hand waving to her from across the tourist-packed street.

‘Viv! I owe you a drink,’ said Liz, greeting her old friend with a kiss on the cheek. ‘For putting all this business my way. I really appreciate it.’

Viv took her hands. ‘Darling, I owe you a drink for coming up trumps with your marvellous cooking. All my properties are fully booked and I’ve got waiting lists for several of them. The thing about Salcombe holiday homes is the views are so gorgeous that my clients would rather stay in to eat, albeit have dinner cooked by someone else, of course.’

‘And who can blame them,’ Liz agreed. She felt the same about her lovely house, except, in her case, her favourite thing was to cook in her own kitchen.

‘You and I make a fabulous team.’ Viv squeezed her hand. ‘I missed you last summer, Liz, I really did. I’m so glad you’re making a go of it again.’

‘Me too.’

Liz repeated her offer of a drink, but Viv shook her head.

‘I’d love to, but I have an appointment. Although I have to say,’ she lowered her voice and tittered, ‘I’m surprised you can even contemplate alcohol today.’

‘Why?’ Liz felt her face redden. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, come on, Liz.’ Viv nudged her arm. ‘Noah told me all about it. I must admit I was quite shocked.’

‘Oh that,’ Liz laughed uneasily. ‘It was a one-off. I think someone spiked my water glass.’

Viv raised an amused eyebrow. ‘From the photos of you doing tequila shots, it looked as if you really got into the party spirit.’

Liz was mortified. If only the ground would swallow her up so she could terminate this awful conversation. ‘I let myself get pressured into it,’ she said feebly. ‘It won’t happen again.’

‘Good,’ said Viv, all business. ‘Because I’d hate my clients to think I’d recommended someone to them who gets drunk on the job.’