She walked out into her kitchen, and checked on the casserole she had bubbling on her new halogen hob. The kitchen was like something from a magazine, all white doors and stainless steel sinks. It was Hygena, and she knew it was far too good for the house, but she saw it as an investment. James had balked at the price but she had won him over. He always saw the sense of her arguments in the end; after all, she was the one stuck here all day, and she was entitled to have what she wanted around her – at least that was what she thought, anyway. And she had her ways to make sure he knew who was the boss under this roof.

She heard her daughter’s cry and, sighing, she left the kitchen and made her way up the stairs.

Gabriella was a handful, and this was the only bugbear in her otherwise perfect life. She should be clean at night by now. The other kids at Gabriella’s playschool were all clean, so why was her daughter so late?

She went into the child’s room. It was decorated as a girl’s bedroom should be decorated, with pale pink walls, and cream carpet. Cynthia loved this room. She had been brought up in a flat and had had to share her bedroom with her sister. It had been scruffy, cold and damp and she had hated every second she had spent in it.

The small night-light cast a rosy glow in the room. Kneeling down beside her daughter’s cot, she looked at her child.

‘What’s wrong, Gabriella?’

The little blue eyes held a plea, and she knew immediately that her daughter had wet the bed again.

‘Oh, Gabriella, why don’t you call me, and I’ll take you to the toilet.’ She lifted her daughter out of the cot with a heavy sigh, and set about cleaning her up, without another word.

Gabriella allowed herself to be stripped, washed and redressed in a clean nightie without saying a word either. As young as she was, she could feel the tension filling the room. The unspoken disapproval and the knowledge she had done something wrong was enough to quieten her. She knew her mummy was cross, and she knew better than to aggravate her.

Ten minutes later, Gabriella was once more alone in her cot and, closing her eyes, she tried hard to get herself back to sleep.

Chapter Three

Jimmy came in as his wife was putting their daughter’s pyjamas and bedding into the washing machine.

‘Dinner smells good, Cyn.’