The Fantastic Book of Everybody's Secrets by Sophie Hannah

kindly, as if he were a bit slow. He gave up. Selena would never see his point; she wasn’t like him. Either you were terrified of how everybody might react to everything or you weren’t, and Selena wasn’t.

    The motorway was particularly clogged that evening, and there had been an accident at junction seventeen. Only onelane remained open, and the traffic crawled along. What was normally a forty-five minute drive took Tom nearly two hours. An hour into his ordeal, he realised he wouldn’t have time to go home and change; he would have to go straight to the show home.
    The sales office was locked, dark. Tom hovered uncertainly for a few seconds, wondering what he ought to do. The middle floor of the show home was illuminated, the curtains open. Tom heard laughter, some of it Selena’s. He wanted to turn and leave, but he wasn’t brave enough, and he didn’t want to let Selena down. She was doing this for them. For Venice. He rang the doorbell.
    The hall light came on, and Selena trotted downstairs to let him in. The show home was arranged on three levels, as were all eighteen houses in the development. On the ground floor there was a long, narrow hall, a utility room, a cloakroom and a large, L-shaped bedroom with a built-in study area. The lounge, kitchen and dining room were on the first floor, arranged around a spacious rectangular landing, where there was also a small bathroom. The top floor comprised an even larger rectangular landing, the main bathroom, two single bedrooms and the master bedroom, which had an en-suite bathroom with a big, round Jacuzzi-bath in its centre.
    Most of the houses on the development were empty shells, waiting for new owners to fill them with evidence of good or bad taste, but the show home had been furnished and decorated. Selena had shown Tom round when she’d first got the job with Beddford, saying, ‘Don’t you wish we could afford one?’ All the walls were custard-coloured, all the duvet covers and scatter cushions bright yellow. The curtains in every room were checked – red, orange and yellow – and had belts around their middles on each side that held them permanently open. The carpets were fudge-coloured and fluffy.
    Tom would never have chosen to decorate a house in this way, but as he’d moved from one custardy room to another,he’d felt oddly comforted; it was like being inside a big, new dolls’ house.
    â€˜Sorry I’m late,’ he said to Selena. ‘Are they…?’ He jerked his head in the direction of the stairs.
    â€˜Yup, they’re all here,’ she said. Then, lowering her voice, she added, ‘Oh, Tom, they’re great. I can’t believe how well it’s worked out.’
    Tom felt frightened. ‘You’ve only known them…’ – he glanced at his watch – ‘…fifteen minutes.’
    â€˜No, they were all early. They’ve been here since half past six. Which is the first thing I realised we’ve got in common. When aren’t I an hour early? Come up and meet them, anyway – they’re all dying to see you. Oh Tom, it’s so amazing! I feel as if I’ve known them for ever.’
    With a leaden heart, Tom ascended the stairs. His new family was in the lounge, the show home’s most impressive room. It was big and square, and had a balcony that overlooked the river. On the yellow leather sofa, an overweight old woman with grey cropped hair and frameless, bifocal glasses was reading a book to Lucy, who was sitting on her knee. The book was called The Big Red Bath . Tom had never seen it before. He was about to ask Selena about it when she said, ‘Look, Audrey’s brought books for the kids.’ Tom noticed a pile of them on the floor at the old woman’s feet. He took in Audrey’s bright-red lace-up shoes with their funny, stitched ridges that reminded him of pastry round the edge of a pie-dish.
    Audrey looked up