Desperate Measures

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‘No one is killing anyone,’ Janine said.

Eleanor and Tom began objecting but Janine raised her hands. ‘We finish the meal like civilized human beings, without squabbling or fighting, or you two can go upstairs – no pudding and no screen time.’

‘God.’ Eleanor made a show of rolling her eyes and Tom scowled.

Charlotte, aged four, clapped her hands.

‘That really isn’t helping,’ Janine said to Charlotte.

Janine seemed to spend half her life as a referee. Eleanor at fifteen was prickly and volatile and dripped misery like every other teenager while Tom, five years her junior, was either winding his sister up or bearing the brunt of her crushing putdowns.

‘I want pudding,’ Charlotte said.

‘Please,’ Janine prompted.

‘Please.’ Charlotte beamed. Happy little soul. Who knows where she’d found that equilibrium. Her life had been the most unsettled to date, born into the immediate aftermath of the marriage break-up, her dad Pete living elsewhere with Tina and now their new baby. Charlotte had been looked after by a succession of nannies with the help of Janine’s eldest child Michael while Janine worked. Now Michael had left home, a man of the world, and Janine was still adjusting to the change.

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