Page 23 of Your Carriage Awaits in Crumbleton
‘But… what on earth for?’
‘Well, we spoke to Lawrence while you were out,’ said her mum, scuffing her slippers into the carpet.
‘Youspoketo him?’ Michelle’s voice came out sharper than she’d intended. ‘After I specifically asked you not to get involved?’
‘Now love, it wasn’t like that—’ her dad started.
‘We didn’t call him,’ her mum added quickly, holding up her hands in surrender. ‘He called us.’
‘What?’ Michelle blinked. ‘Why would he… I mean… what did he want?’
Her parents exchanged another one of those looks, and her mum let out a long sigh. ‘He wanted advice about the washing machine.’
‘The washing machine?’ Michelle stared at them. ‘Lawrence called you about… laundry?’
‘He was trying to play the helpless card,’ said her dad with a snort. ‘Going on about how he couldn’t manage without you, how domestic things were so difficult for a man on his own.’
Michelle felt her jaw clench. ‘That manipulative little?—’
‘Quite,’ said her dad, dryly. ‘Though to be fair, it didn’t work out the way he intended.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Michelle.
Her mum leaned forward, her eyes flashing with the kind of righteous anger Michelle hadn’t seen since she was sixteen and had come home with a black eye courtesy of Tracey Morrison.
‘He asked me how to wash delicate items,’ she said. ‘Lace, to be precise. Said he’d found some of your things mixed with his laundry and didn’t want to ruin them.’
Michelle’s stomach dropped. ‘Oh.’
‘Funny thing is,’ her mum continued, ‘you never wear lace because it gives you a rash.’
‘How’d you know that?’ said Michelle, her eyebrows shooting up.
‘Michelle, Iamyour mother!’
‘Mum…’ Michelle started. This was about to get supremely awkward, wasn’t it?
‘So,’ her mum continued, not taking any notice of the plea in her voice. ‘Either Lawrence has developed some very interesting fashion choices since you left, or he’s already busy washing someone else’s unmentionables.’
Silence stretched between them. Michelle stared down at her hands. She blinked hard as mortified tears started to prick the corners of her eyes.
‘Oh, sweetheart.’ Her mum’s voice was suddenly soft. ‘How long have you known?’
‘Since the day I left,’ Michelle whispered. ‘I came home from work early and found them…’
‘Found them?’ growled her dad.
Michelle swallowed. She might as well tell them everything now.
‘In our bed. On our new sheets.’
‘That absolute waste of oxygen!’ growled her dad. ‘How dare he?!’
‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ said her mum.
Michelle let out a shaky laugh. ‘Because you both thought he was wonderful! You kept going on about what a catch he was, how stable and sensible and perfect. I couldn’t bear the thought of you knowing what an idiot I’d been.’
‘Idiot?’ her dad’s all but bellowed. ‘Michelle, love, you’re not the idiot in this scenario!’
