Angry that Lance was prying into her concerns, she was rattled and wrestled for control before she opened her mouth and regretted it. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself. ‘Of course I know what he does for a living,’ she said acidly. ‘Please don’t interfere. Now, what do you want because I’m sure it’s not a pleasant chat over coffee, is it?’

She soon realized by his conceited expression that he knew something she didn’t. ‘Lance, I don’t have time for this nonsense. If you have something to say – something actually relevant – then say it or kindly fuck off!’

Lance raised his eyebrows and grinned. ‘Language, Rebecca.’

She ignored him and walked over to the kettle; she needed a distraction to think straight and he certainly wasn’t helping.

‘What I’m worried about, Rebecca, is that you don’t seem the least concerned about your girls. What makes you so sure he’s taken them with him?’

She slammed the kettle down and spun around. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, if you must know, I think the girls hate me! All right? They hate me. Kendall couldn’t stand me, Alastair barely looks at me, and as for Poppy and Brooke, they won’t even have a single conversation with me.’ She gave a shuddery sigh and then covered her eyes as the tears filled up.

Lance watched her chest shaking as she silently sobbed.

Under normal circumstances, he would have comforted her, but actually he was getting a huge kick out of seeing her in this state. He had to admit to himself that this was probably the first time he’d ever seen real emotion emanating from her. He couldn’t stand the woman. She was so fake and the most underhanded person he’d ever known. He dropped his shoulders again and stared out of the window, down the long expanse of lawn, which was only just visible due to the October morning mist. He’d loved this garden once upon a time. One of the reasons he’d bought the house was because there was so much land attached to it. In the far distance, he saw the swings and slide. He’d bought them for Kendall for when she was old enough. The sad thing was, though, she never was, as he’d moved out, taking her with him.

***

She was a year old and such a sweet baby with masses of dark hair and the roundest happy eyes that always brightened any mood he was in. Perhaps he should have made Rebecca move out or bolted the doors when she returned from her dirty weekends. He’d never forget those times.