Life Or Something Like It

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‘First rule of looking after kids,’ said Finn cheerfully, ‘never bring or wear anything that you aren’t prepared to take home covered in urine, poo, vomit or a combination of all three.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ said Cat through gritted teeth.

On the way home Ellie declared it to be ‘the best day ever’, and even Charlie seemed cheerful.

Later that evening, Cat sat in the garden with her brother, nursing a glass of wine. ‘So,’ he said innocently, ‘what did you make of Finn?’

‘Smug, irritating and a know-it-all,’ declared Cat.

‘Right,’ said Andrew. ‘So you quite liked him then.’ Cat stuck out her tongue. ‘Still. The kids enjoyed it and at least you didn’t have to deal with any vomit today.’

‘No just dog’s urine,’ she observed. ‘Anyway, things are improving. Ellie told me I was “okay”.’

‘Praise indeed.’ Andrew smiled. ‘Well I think you’re doing a great job, sis,’ he added, knocking his glass against hers.

‘I’m learning to go with the flow,’ said Cat.

‘Sounds like something Finn might say,’ observed Andrew.

Cat frowned. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

Chapter Six (#ulink_03576050-3f9c-539e-a64c-ae23b873166d)

Cat paid the cab driver, adding a generous tip in recognition of the terrible Friday night traffic, and stepped onto the pavement, tucking the wine bottle under her arm. She looked up at the three-storey Notting Hill townhouse. The west London location had been the choice of Jesse’s wife, Alexandra, after she saw the movie of the same name and decided that if it was good enough for Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts then it was definitely good enough for Alexandra Lorenzo. Jesse had been desperate to make his supermodel wife happy and gave in quickly, despite the property’s impractical positioning for Hemingway Media’s east London offices.

Even though she travelled the globe, Alexandra had a strong sense of home and had wanted to settle somewhere not too far from her family back in Barcelona. She also found the British reserve to be at odds with her passionate Spanish nature but Notting Hill had its own cosmopolitan identity where you could be who you were, particularly if you were rich. The house had been her project, not that she had broken a nail over it, but she had enjoyed working with the best architects, project managers and interior designers money could buy.