Heading to her bedroom, only too pleased to have had the last word, Kendall didn’t hear her mother sobbing. As soon as Kendall reached the end of the hallway, the front door opened and in walked Alastair, looking very chuffed. Dressed in a grey suit and with a golden tan, Kendall had to admit he wasn’t bad looking. She could see why her mother was attracted to him. A well-built man, with ripped muscles and piercing eyes, he wouldn’t seem out of place at a prefight weigh-in. However, the way he looked at her still made her want to cringe.

‘Hello, Kendall, how’s Brooke?’ he said, not noticing the sheer spite on her face. He took off his jacket, placed it on a hanger, and rolled up his sleeves. Kendall didn’t reply but went up the stairs, leaving him to see for himself the carnage in the kitchen. Once she reached the landing, she strained her ears to listen, wondering if her mother would revert to the sweet housewife fussing over her husband like it was in the 1950s.

‘What’s the bloody matter now, Rebecca?’ Alastair’s voice was less than compassionate, which sent Rebecca into a further downward spiral.

‘Where have you been?’ she snapped.

‘Where the hell do you think? I’ve been to work, Rebecca. Now, will you pull yourself together and stop badgering me. I’d have thought you had more pressing issues to be concentrating on, like the upcoming election. Oh yes, and not forgetting, you have our daughter up there suffering.’

Kendall crept back down the staircase and waited midway, listening.

‘Brooke won’t even look at me, and damn the bloody election. In fact, Alastair, I might resign. I’ve had enough.’

‘What!’ he bellowed, his tone now deep and masterful. ‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous, woman. We’ve come this far, and now you want to bail out? Well, all I can say is, Rebecca, you aren’t the woman I thought you were. I thought I’d married someone with guts, drive, and determination, not some pathetic crybaby who wants to give up at the first hurdle!’

There was silence and Kendall could only picture her mother’s crumpled expression. She got that very wrong.

‘We, Alastair? We? Who is the we? Because as I recall, it’s me who happens to be the member of parliament. I hold that seat, not you, and this isn’t the first hurdle. I’ve been working my bloody arse off to get to where I am.’