LIBBYâS phone rang just as she was taking the exit into the motorway services.
She pulled into the first convenient parking space and eagerly reached into her pocket. âMum â¦?â
âDo I sound like your mother?â
Not unless her mum had developed a strong Irish accent in the two weeks sheâd been in New York. âChloe?â
âLibby, love, I was just wondering if youâre going through the village on the way home from work?â
âActually, Iâm not in work. Iâm on my way back from the airport.â
There was a pause before her friend gave a self-recriminatory groan and added, âOh, God, of course you are! Sorry, I forgot.â
There was a lot of it around, Libby thought with a worried frown. âI donât suppose youâve seen Mum or Dad, have you, Chloe?â
âHavenât you? I assumed one of them would be picking you up from the airport.â
âThey were meant to,â Libby admitted. âBut they were a no show and when I rang I couldnât get a reply ⦠so I got a hire car.â She stopped and shook her head, her smooth brow creasing into an anxious frown. âItâs just not like them, but Iâm sure thereâs a perfectly simple explanation â¦?â she added, unable to keep the questioning note of doubt from her voice.
âOf course there is,â Chloe responded soothingly. âAnd it has nothing whatever to do with ambulances or heart attacks, your dad is fine, and donât deny thatâs what you were thinking. I know the way your mind works.â
Before Libby could respond to this charge a yawn reverberated down the line so loud it made her grin.
âWhy does nobody mention that motherhood turns your mind to mush?â her friend complained.
Libby gave a sympathetic grimace. âYou sound exhausted.â
âI was up all night,â Chloe admitted with another yawn.
âHow is my god-daughter?â
âSheâs teething or colic or something. Iâve only just got her to sleep. Now how was your trip?â
âFantastic.â
âAnd did friend Susie set you up with some gorgeous American hunk?â
âAs a matter of fact.â
There was a squeal of delight at the other end. âTell me all.â
âNothing to tell, he was nice butââ
A groan vibrated down the line. âLet me guessânot your type. Is anyone your type, Libby?â Chloe sounded exasperated. âLooking the way you do you could have any manâone for every day of the week!â
âYou mean I look cheap and tarty?â
âYou look about as cheap as vintage champagne, which is why you scare half the men offâtoo much class.â
âNice theory but on a more sane note ⦠what did you want me to get you from the village?â Libby asked, stifling her need to get home. Whatever was happening there, five minutes was not going to make that much difference.
âNo, donât worry about it, it doesnât matter.â
After a short argument Libby established that the item Chloe needed picking up was Eustace, their accident-prone Labrador, from the vetâs.
âSomeone left the gate open and useless Eustace got out. I swear that dog was an escapologist in another life. Mike found him tangled up in some barbed wire.â
âOuch! Poor Eustace, but donât worry, itâs on my way, Iâllââ
âNo, it isnât.â
Libby ignored the interruption. âItâs no bother,â she lied.
An hour later Libby was relieved to see the village come into view. The rain that had made motorway driving a nightmare had finally stopped but the puddles on the narrow country lane where she parked were the size of small lakes. By the time sheâd brought the Labrador back to the car her shoes were saturated and her legs splashed with mud.
While the excitable animal strained on his leash Libby fumbled for her keys to open the car door. Her fingers closed around them at the same moment her heel caught in a pothole in the uneven surface. Libby staggered, and, losing her balance in her efforts to stay upright and not land in an inelegant heap in the mud, she lost her grip on the dogâs lead.
âGreat!â she muttered, maintaining a fixed smile as she approached the dog, who was sitting a few feet away looking pleased with himself.
âGood boy, Eustace,â she cajoled, approaching him slowly with her hand outstretched. âJust stay exactly where you are â¦â