Love Is a Secret Read Free Page A

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    He’d have to be a woman or it wouldn’t work. Dishonest? Yes. But useful. And refreshingly anonymous.
    Username? Mimi . A sort of derivative of his own, which meant it wasn’t really cheating. Children’s details? He’d be truthful about that or the advice wouldn’t be pertinent. Florrie, 12. Freddy, 11. Hobbies? No time. Work? Home-based public-relations consultant with quirky sense of humour.
    Send.
    Right. A quick flick through his other emails. Nothing that couldn’t wait. Check out History. Nothing. That meant the kids had deleted the websites they were on last night, which also meant they probably weren’t suitable. Mark did his best to check what they were on, usually by walking in unexpectedly, but otherwise he had to hope the NannyOnline system was up to Mary Poppins’s standards.
     
Spyware Search and Destroy. Do you want to update?
     
    Definitely. Awful how saddos with nothing better to do could penetrate your messages unless you had the right protection. A bit like sex. Not that he’d had any, recently.
    Delete email wish from What Mums Know , even if it did bring bad luck, and wake up kids.
    ‘Morning, Florrie, time to get up.’
    There was a whiff of cheap scent as a half-dressed Florrie, in a little pale blue bra and pants set she’d bought last week, glowered at him. ‘Dad, I’ve told you before. Knock first!’
    She was right. Embarrassed, he turned his head away. ‘Sorry but we’re late.’
    When had she started to get breasts? How did she know the bra fitted properly? He’d have to ask Daphne. She’d love that. ‘Freddy, are you up?’ No danger of bras here. Just legs and stale air. ‘For Chrissake, Freddy, don’t kick! It hurts. And don’t think you can hide under the duvet like that. It’s time to get up.’
    ‘Fuck off, Dad.’
    His hand tightened on the doorknob. ‘Don’t talk to me like that!’
    ‘Fuck off.’
    In his day, ‘language’ had meant French. Nowadays kids seemed fluent in Obscenity. Angrily, Mark yanked open the striped blue and yellow curtains, which Hilary had put up in another life, letting in the morning sunlight. ‘Right. You’re banned from the computer tonight and for the rest of the week.’
    ‘So?’ Freddy’s spiky hedgehog hair, bearing the remnants of yesterday’s gel, made him seem even more defiant.
    Ignore him. It’s a stage, gut instinct told him, for what it was worth. ‘Give him a good smack,’ was Daphne’s view. Maybe What Mums Know could suggest a compromise.
    Mark flung his son’s jeans on to the bed. They were frayed and grubby at the hems, reminding him that he should have washed them ages ago. His own weren’t much better, but working from home meant he didn’t have to worry too much about that. ‘I wish you’d behave for once. It would make my life so much easier. No wonder—’ He stopped, appalled at what he’d been about to say in anger.
    ‘No wonder what?’ said Freddy, from under the duvet.
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘ What? ’
    ‘No wonder we’re late for holiday club,’ said Mark.
    ‘Don’t want to go.’
    ‘Well, I’m sorry but you have to. I’ve got to work. Now come on. And please, please , don’t lose your temper with the other kids today or we’ll both be in trouble again.’
    Freddy scowled.
    When had his little boy started to do that? At what age did children’s unlined faces develop frown lines?
    ‘Dad!’
    Florrie was calling him from the kitchen. A smell of burnt toast floated up to him.
    ‘My legs are upstairs. I’ll be down in a minute.’
    If he could have divided himself into two, he could have got things done so much faster. It used to annoy him when Hilary said she only had one pair of hands, but now he knew what she’d meant.
    ‘Freddy?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘If you could make one wish, what would it be?’
    ‘What are you on, Dad?’
    ‘I’m serious, Freddy.’
    Something flickered in Freddy’s blue-green eyes and, for a second, Mark saw the little boy