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and definitely not hers.
    She shut the drawer again, thoughtfully, and tucked her stuff into the empty one beside it.
     
    Dinner was served formally in the cavernous dining room. Two Hepplewhite china cabinets and a dining suite for ten covered only a portion of the honey-coloured wool twist carpet. Judith was convinced that Frankie O'Malley earned enough to provide sufficient furniture to make the room gracious. It was like Molly, however, to not really see the point of furniture for furniture's sake. Not for her a couple of comfy recliners by the French doors, perhaps in bluebell leather, or plum, with a sexy little stereo and a bulbous lamp on a side table. Nor a jardinière to fill a corner, or a grandfather clock to chime companionably.
    Theirs was a house that ached for loving touches.
    Molly brushed aside Judith's offers to take them out for a meal or buy a takeaway. 'You're our guest .' Molly might sigh over the extra work even as she refused offers of help, but she would look after her guest with special meals and fresh towels. That was the way Molly was. 'Also, Frankie will only complain if we were to go out, he likes home cooking.' That was the way Frankie was.
    'Does anyone else know you're home?'
    Judith shook her head in response to Molly's question, and tried to feel some appetite for juicy lamb chops and pungent cabbage. 'No, nobody. Yet.'
    'Not Thomas? Not Kieran?'
    'No.'
    Frankie looked up from where he'd been silently engrossed in his meal, his attention caught by the sound of Tom's name. Frankie and Judith's ex-husband, Tom, each ran building firms in the town, occasionally combining forces to tackle larger jobs. They were mates, it was through her brother-in-law that Judith had met Tom fifteen years ago. Frankie displayed a fierce loyalty to his mates, to all things male, really. Wilma termed it being A Man's Man.
    Frankie reached for extra peas. 'He's very cut up, is old Tom. Had a hard time of it this last year.'
    'Because Exotic Liza left,' supplied Molly, as if Judith might have somehow forgotten that his third wife had recently abandoned Tom.
    Liza's name had once had the power to slice through Judith like a cutlass, not so much because she'd put paid to Judith's marriage, but because she'd shaken her self-belief. Liza had known that Tom was married - Tom had known that he was married - yet she hadn't let it stop her having a taste of his big, bullish body. Liza had been the classic 'new model', younger, prettier, more desirable and, for all Judith knew, better in bed. But falling in love with Giorgio had so restored and healed Judith that it even made her grateful to Liza, because without Liza stealing her man she would never have found another.
    'Careless with his wives, isn't he? Pam dies, me and Exotic Liza leave.' Judith was scarcely even thinking about Tom, but actually coming to the agreeable realisation that she could ring Kieran tomorrow and speak to him, even meet him in person instead of relying on the wonders of e-mail to keep in touch. Kieran was home from university and working in Northampton now. He was probably right here in Brinham. This moment he could be playing squash at the sports centre or having a drink with his mates in one of the pubs Judith had known all her life, his boyish face quick to smile, his toffee-coloured eyes to twinkle.
    Frankie shot her a severe look. 'Tom took Liza's desertion very hard.' He stabbed the meat from his cutlet. 'He had no idea that she was seeing someone else.'
    Judith brought her mind back to the subject. 'Not much fun, is it, to discover that the person you're married to is having sex with someone else? It rather blights the marriage.'
    Frankie pointed his knife. 'You could've patched things up with Tom, if you'd wanted. He was prepared to give Liza up for you - it was you who chose to leave.'
    'True.' She stopped pretending to eat. 'I'm afraid I'm terribly unforgiving. After all, it only took me discovering his horrid little affair for him to