“I’m Angela.”

Lyn felt Cat’s shoulder become rigid and her own chest constrict in sympathy.

Gemma, of course, had no control over her emotions and quite unnecessarily dropped a full glass of champagne on the floor.

Lyn stared stupidly at the broken glass and tried to think calmly. This was a genuinely appalling situation. Three women in the one room who had all slept with Daniel Whitford.

It was all so…unhygienic.

“I’ll get a dustpan,” said Maxine as Charlie and Angela simultaneously bent down to begin picking up shards of glass in careful cupped hands. The rest of the Kettle family watched with interest.

“Butterfingers!” Nana Kettle leaned over to tap Charlie on the shoulder. “Gemma is such a butterfingers! That’s what we call her! Butterfingers!”

“I’m sorry,” Gemma stood staring fearfully down at Angela, as if she was some sort of awful apparition.

“It’s only a glass, sweetheart,” said Frank, his eyes appreciative on Angela’s legs. “I’m sure Lyn doesn’t mind.”

Lyn took a breath. She couldn’t see Cat’s face, only the top of her head. “Of course not. Please. Leave it. Charlie…Angela. I’ll look after it.” It felt like a betrayal to use Angela’s name. She needed to get these people out of her house.

“We’re admitting defeat on the cubby house.” Michael appeared in the kitchen, followed by Dan. “Time for a drink.”

“Have we had our first breakage?” said Dan. “Let me guess the culprit.”

Angela looked up from the floor. “Danny!”

Danny?

Cat shrugged away Lyn’s hand, stepped over the glass, and walked out of the kitchen, her face averted from Dan.

“Crosspatch!” Nana Kettle informed Charlie triumphantly. “That’s what we call that one!”

Dan backed himself up against the fridge. He looked nauseous. “Hi there.”

“So you two know each other, eh?” said Michael. Understanding swept his face as his eyes met Lyn’s and his words trailed lamely. “…how about that.”

Gemma looked imploringly at Lyn. Lyn massaged her forehead and watched Kara carefully pouring herself a very full glass of wine, one eye monitoring her father.

“Swim!” Maddie came running full tilt into the kitchen. She was stark naked and wearing her yellow plastic floaties on each arm.

“Lyn—bare feet!” warned Maxine at the same instant as Charlie swooped Maddie into the air away from the glass.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Maddie patted the top of Charlie’s closely shaven head approvingly, as if he were a furry animal. “Swim?” she inquired brightly, tipping her head birdlike to one side. “Come swim?”

“Maybe another day, sweetie,” said Charlie.

Angela had gathered her composure. “I know Dan from the Greenwood pub,” she told Charlie. “I got chatting to him that night Bec and I handed out your fridge magnets.”

“Oh!” said Gemma. “That must be…oh.”

“Yes?” Charlie put a hand on Gemma’s shoulder and looked at her with gentle bemusement. Maddie tapped her finger on the end of his nose and giggled.

“I rang Cat the day I got locked out of the house,” explained Gemma. She gave Cat’s empty chair a nervous glance. “She said, There’s a number for a locksmith right here on the fridge.”

“Ha!” Dan was obviously trying to follow Angela’s jolly lead, but he was looking slightly manic, punching his fist into his palm. “I remember. It was shaped like a key. I stuck it on the fridge when I got home from the pub. Didn’t even think…about it. Good idea, magnets. Yep. Get your name in front of people. Well. You owe me, Gemma!”

Lyn wanted to smack him.

“Not as much as I owe you,” said Charlie, jiggling Maddie in one arm and putting his free arm around Gemma. He gave Dan a thoughtful, appraising look and then turned back to Nana Kettle. “Gemma is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Nana Kettle beamed up at him, her eyes shining though her glasses. “What a lovely young fellow! Isn’t he, Frank? Maxine?”

Maxine straightened up from the floor with the dustpan full of broken glass. “Very lovely,” she said. Her eyebrows were question marks. “You certainly saved Maddie’s feet from getting cut to pieces.”

“Good reflexes,” contributed Michael overheartily.

There was a contemptuous “pfffff” sound from Kara’s direction.

“Well. We’d better make a move.” Charlie handed Maddie over to Lyn. “It was great to meet you all.”

“Bye everybody,” said Angela. For a moment her flawless performance seemed to falter. “Bye, Dan.”

“Yeah.” Dan examined his hands. “Yeah. Bye then.”

“I’ll see them out,” said Gemma.

There was a moment’s silence in the kitchen. The central characters had left the stage, leaving the supporting cast without a script.

“What was that all about?” asked Maxine, shaking glass into the rubbish bin. “You were all behaving like lunatics. And have you noticed your daughter is drinking like a fish, Michael?”

Michael looked with confusion at Maddie.

“I think she means me, Dad,” Kara raised her wineglass cheerily. “Remember. You’ve got two daughters.”

“Dan, shouldn’t you be finding out what’s wrong with Cat?” Maxine commanded.

“Yeah.” Dan seemed to be suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome. He opened the fridge door and stood staring at its contents. “I’ll just take her up a beer.”

“What?”

“Oh. Yeah. I’ll just take one for me then.”

He ambled from the kitchen, nearly colliding with Gemma, who looked up at him with something approaching hatred.

“Can I talk to you for a sec, Lyn?” she said in a strained tone. “Now?”

Lyn leaned up against the desk in her office. “Well. That was fun.”

“I feel terrible.” Gemma slumped into a chair and sat on her hands.

“It’s not your fault. It’s just bad luck. Although, of course, if you could have found a locksmith for yourself instead of calling Cat—”