The School Gates by Nicola May

little Eliska?’
    Alana was mute. Stephen talked for both of them.
    ‘This is my wife, Susan.’ Susan smiled politely as her husband introduced them. ‘This is Alana Murray and her daughter. Alana heads up PR at Langston and Smithdrake, a major client of mine.’
    Alana pulled herself together, looked down at Susan in her wheelchair, smiled and shook her hand gently.
    ‘What beautiful red hair.’ Susan was now looking intently at Eliska.
    Alana thought she was going to be sick and began to gabble.
    ‘Right, good to meet you, Susan. See you at the Christmas party, Stephen. Must run, our train’s about to leave.’
    ‘But Mum, my doughnut,’ Eliska wailed as Alana dragged her as fast as she could across the concourse.
    ‘I think Colin is having an affair.’ Joan let out a plume of white breath into the freezing December air as she and Mo power – walked around the park, wearing matching bobble hats with miner-type headlamps attached.
    Mo screwed her face up. ‘There is more likelihood of me fitting into a size 10 dress by Christmas than Colin ever having an affair. He so obviously adores you. ’
    ‘Really?’ Joan questioned.
    ‘Really, really, really,’ Mo emphasised. ‘And anyway, why on earth do you think that?’
    ‘Well, he always seems to be working late and even sometimes on a Friday, and he’s never worked late on a Friday in his life. He always used to look at it as a family night.’
    ‘Have you spoken to him about it?’
    ‘He just brushes it off, saying he’s busy catching up with work.’
    ‘Are you still shagging?’ Mo added.
    ‘Not much, but that’s because he says he’s too tired. Now I’m doing this exercise I’ve got so much extra energy. I want it all the time, so it’s very frustrating.’
    ‘Oh Joan, if he was dipping his wick elsewhere he wouldn’t be bothered to do it with you at all, now would he?’
    ‘I suppose not. Or maybe he would so I don’t suspect?’
    ‘You’ve said it yourself; he’s not exactly Colin Farrell, is he?’
    ‘More like Colin Barrell!’ Joan chortled.
    ‘Glad you said that and not me. I’d be a fine one to talk anyway,’ Mo added as they upped the pace to warm their cold bones.
    ‘I reckon you’re looking better already, though Mo.’
    ‘Yeah, only three dress sizes to go. It doesn’t quite sound so hard as saying three stone.’
    ‘Well, I’m very proud of you.’ Joan patted her friend’s arm chummily and said, ‘How’s Ron behaving, by the way?’
    ‘I’ve found that if I buy him six per cent lager, he’s asleep after three of them so I just throw a blanket over him and leave him to sleep downstairs. I have moments of feeling sorry for him but they soon pass.’
    ‘Oh Mo, that’s no way to live.’
    ‘I know, I know – but my escape fund is not large enough to make the break yet.’
    Joan sensed her friend’s anguish and changed the subject swiftly. ‘Any word from Charlie?’
    Mo smiled at the thought of her son.
    ‘He called me last night actually. He’s hoping he may come and see us at Christmas-time. The only thing is, if he sees how Ron behaves towards me, I’m not sure what will happen and I don’t want to worry him – he’s working so hard at the moment.’
    ‘Bless you, Mo. Play it by ear. Ron might have stopped drinking by then.’
    ‘And pigs may be pulling Santa’s sleigh.’ Mo smirked. ‘Now come on, it’s too bloody cold out here, let’s go back to
    yours for a cuppa and a mince pie – minus the pastry of course.’
    ‘How’s my bellissima blue-eyed waitress today then?’ Tony greeted Dana at the door of Rosco’s.
    ‘Tired actually. Tommy is having night terrors at the moment – wakes me up at least twice a night.’
    ‘Oh, cara mia, I shall make sure I fill you with plenty of espressos today then.’
    ‘I’d fill her with more than espressos if I had my way,’ Bruno commented in a low voice as Dana went to take her coat off in the back kitchen.
    ‘You’re filth, brother, you