The Fantastic Book of Everybody's Secrets by Sophie Hannah Page A

and smiled. Lucy said, ‘Hi, Daddy Paddy-whack-whack.’ Then they both turned back to the book. ‘Water on the floor, bubbles mount, the bath is starting to bob about!’ Audrey recited. Joe was lying under the rectangular coffee table, holding an orange plastic gun that Tom did not recognise. Above him were two empty bottles of red wine and three full. Seven cheeses were artfully arranged on bright-yellow plates, which, Tom worked out, Selena must haveborrowed from the dining table. ‘I’m Butch Cassidy, Daddy,’ said Joe. ‘And Clive’s the Sundance Kid. Bang bang! Bang!’
    A round-faced, bald young man in immaculate navy jeans and a white Aran jumper stood up and shook Tom’s hand. ‘I’m Clive,’ he said. ‘Twenty-nine, forensic pathologist. Nice to meet you. I hope you don’t… you know, disapprove of… pretend shootings.’ He nodded in Joe’s direction. ‘I’m actually a pacifist!’
    At that moment, Tom wasn’t convinced he disapproved of real shootings. He had himself in mind as his first victim. This was intolerable. ‘Clive…?’ He prompted, not because he cared what the man’s surname was, but because he could see that he was expected to say something.
    â€˜We’ve decided not to bother with surnames,’ said Selena, ‘since the aim is for us all to be one big family. Actually, we were thinking, if this works out, maybe we should all change our names to a new name, you know, so that we’d all be called the same thing.’
    â€˜Kilkenny,’ said the third imitation relative, a teenage girl with dreadlocks, two nose rings in her left nostril and a Scottish accent. She was wearing a short leather skirt over patterned leggings, and big black boots. ‘I’ve always liked the name Kilkenny.’
    â€˜This is Petra,’ said Selena. ‘Don’t mind Tom being silent and awkward, everyone. This whole thing was my idea, and he’s a bit apprehensive. Aren’t you, Tom?’
    â€˜Well, no. I mean, I’m sure…’ Tom began to mumble.
    â€˜Maybe we should all introduce ourselves formally,’ Petra suggested. ‘I mean, so far all we’ve done is chat. Maybe we should explain why we’re all here, why we don’t see our own families. Would that help, Tom?’
    â€˜Erm, well, I’m fine, really, but, I mean…’
    He couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t finish a sentence. In the background, softly, Audrey was whispering to Lucy, ‘ Rub-a -dub-a-giggle, rub-a-dub-a-laugh, let’s tell Mum about our big, red bath.’
    â€˜I see my family,’ said Clive. He turned to Selena. ‘We don’t have to have ditched them, do we?’
    Selena assured him, to Tom’s relief, that the comprehensive shunning of one’s original set of relatives was not a requirement.
    Petra looked a bit upset, but said nothing.
    â€˜If we start to talk about the various family problems we have, we might get dragged down into a bitchy, negative vibe,’ said Audrey.
    â€˜Good point,’ said Clive. ‘I don’t really want to bad-mouth anybody.’
    â€˜You don’t?’ Selena grinned. ‘I want to badmouth almost everybody.’ Audrey, Clive and Petra all laughed. ‘And you should hear Tom when he gets going. Who was it at work that you said deserved to have her brain diced and sold as dogfood?’ There was more appreciative laughter.
    Tom’s eyeballs prickled. He felt dizzy, unsteady on his feet. Gillian Bate, and it was fishfood, not dogfood. ‘I… could you all excuse me a moment?’ he said. He climbed the stairs to the top floor and lay down on the double bed in the master bedroom. When Selena appeared in the doorway, he groaned and rolled himself up in the yellow duvet. ‘See what a great dynamic there is between us?’ she whispered energetically. ‘Do you see how