School started again in a few days, thank God, and like most London mothers Maddie was counting the seconds. The summer holidays had been one gruelling round of activities after another. One son had cricket camp in Battersea Park, another went to karate and swimming classes in Notting Hill, and her daughter Caitlin had enrolled in some ghastly drama course in North London that meant Maddie spent her entire day in the car, shuttling between the three of them. Then there were the playdates sleep-overs and non-stop meals to be bought, prepared, cooked and washed up afterwards. Needless to say her husband had suddenly found himself desperately busy at the Mayfair gallery, as he did every summer. George Wilkes had a lot of lovely qualities, but nobody could describe him as a ‘hands-on’ dad.
Staggering through the front door, weighed down with Waitrose bags (miraculously Caitlin’s modern dance recital had been moved to next Wednesday, giving Maddie a chance to go to the supermarket on her own, without screaming children), she dumped the frozen stuff into the freezer before switching on the kettle for a cup of tea. Magnus’s Beyblades were all over the floor, and Hannah, the Wilkes’s cleaner, clearly hadn’t bothered to show up this morning, judging by the pile of dirty washing-up still festering in the sink. I really must fire her, thought Maddie, for the umpteenth time, poking at Frosties stuck to the side of a bowl with a cat-food encrusted fork. The kitchen clock said three o’clock, a whole hour till she had to be at Battersea to pick up Henry. Leaving the groceries in their bags on the floor, Maddie made her cup of tea and retreated upstairs for that rarest of treats, a siesta.
She heard the laughter when she reached the landing, but didn’t think anything of it. Henry and Magnus were always going into her bedroom and leaving the television on. Pushing the door open, she froze.
Jason Cranley was lying on her bed, stark naked and in a very obvious state of arousal.
‘Jesus Christ!’ Seeing Maddie, he grabbed a pillow and hastily covered his groin.
Maddie just stood there, open mouthed. A few seconds later, her husband came sauntering out of the master bathroom, his hair slick from the shower and with a towel wrapped around his hips. ‘Did you say something, darling?’
He was addressing Jason. But then he, too, saw Maddie. Every ounce of blood drained from his face.
‘What are you doing here?’ he blurted.
‘I live here,’ said Maddie on autopilot. She was still holding her tea, very carefully, so as not to spill it. She looked like a rather bedraggled, British version of the Statue of Liberty.
‘I thought you were at Caitlin’s recital.’
‘It got cancelled.’
For a moment all three of them remained in stunned, horrified silence. Then George made the mistake of saying ‘I can explain …’ and all hell broke loose. Maddie was screaming and crying, the most awful noise, like an animal being tortured. Jason watched as the mug flew across the room, shattering on the wall just above George’s head and spraying scalding tea everywhere. George moved towards her, and as he did so the towel dropped. It was dreadful, watching him bent and cowering, naked, while Maddie literally flew at him, scratching and kicking, her arms and legs flailing. Jason tried to pull her off but she spun around and bit him on the arm, so hard he screamed and let go.
‘Get out!’ George yelled at him through the melee, his voice half shout, half sob. ‘Go home.’
Not knowing what else to do, Jason pulled on his jeans, scooped up the rest of his clothes and ran, blood streaming from his arm from where Maddie had bitten him.
Outside he ran barefoot down the street before flagging down a cab and jumping inside. ‘Eaton Gate!’ he panted.
‘You all right, mate?’ the cabbie sounded concerned. ‘You been mugged or summink?’
‘I’m fine,’ said Jason. Tears streamed down his cheek and his heart was pounding so violently he thought it might be about to leap out of his ribcage. ‘Just … hurry.’
He needed to talk to Tatiana.
Tati would know what to do.
As soon as he got home, Jason ran straight upstairs. Tati had been in bed all week, struck down with some sort of violent flu. Between her illness and her despair at having Hamilton Hall sold out from under her, the poor thing was at her lowest ebb. He hated having to break the news to her like this: that ‘George’, his George, was actually George Wilkes, one of their oldest and closest friends. But it couldn’t be helped. Maddie, understandably, had gone completely off the deep end. Anything might happen. Jason desperately needed Tati’s advice, not to mention her forgiveness.
Walking into their bedroom, however, he found the bed was made and Tati nowhere to be seen. Hurriedly changing his clothes and pressing a clean damp flannel to the bite mark on his forearm, cleaning away the dried blood, he went down to the kitchen.
‘What happened to you?’ asked Logan. ‘You look terrible. Did you get in a fight?’
Jason had totally forgotten she was staying with them. Her night at the O2 with Tom after Max Bingley’s wedding had turned into two weeks. Now that their parents were packing up Furlings for the big Hamptons move, Logan had been talking about moving into Eaton Gate full time. Jason didn’t have the heart to tell her that yet another of her homes was about to implode around her.
‘No, no. I’m fine. I got bitten by a dog in Holland Park,’ he lied. Pulling the largest plaster he could find out of the first-aid drawer, he stuck it over the gash on his arm. ‘Have you seen Tatiana?’
‘Nope,’ said Logan. ‘Isn’t she in bed?’