‘Anything nice planned for today?’

Anything nice? Did he really think she spent her days lunching with the cast of Desperate Housewives whilst the housework and shopping fairies did their thing? ‘Nothing much, dropping the kids to school and then some cleaning, maybe a trip to the supermarket.’ Running away to Paris for the night. ‘Have you got a busy day today?’

‘Not really, I’ll try and get away early if I can – we could get a takeaway tonight, save you cooking.’

‘Mmmm, maybe.’ She wandered into the lounge to check on Alice and Thomas, who were about fifty centimetres from the TV, glued to Everything’s Rosie. If only it was.

Thomas, with his thumb in his mouth and his pudgy finger twisted in his hair, leaned in to Alice and she put an arm around him. Tears pricked in the back of Kate’s eyes. This was crazy. She couldn’t just drop them at school and skip off to another country. What if they were sick during the day or she’d forgotten something they needed and the school had to call her? She couldn’t just say, Sorry I’m in Paris, might be a while. What the hell would the school think?

She could just tell them to call Luke. He was their father, after all.

Luke wandered into the lounge with her coffee and put it on the dining table. ‘Okay, that’s me off.’ He kissed Thomas and Alice on the tops of their heads, and Kate on the cheek, and left for work. He was always the one who got to leave. Today he might not be the only one.

Kate’s heart started to pound again. Was she really going to do this? The ticket was only £29, so she wasn’t losing a huge amount if she chose not to go. She would just call Shannon. That would be the decider. Funny, clever, and too sensible to have children, Shannon was exactly what Kate needed right now. Shannon would understand how Kate was feeling. She’d help her to work this all out.

If Shannon was too busy to see her, Kate wouldn’t go. But if she was free and up for it, Kate would pack, take the kids to school then head straight to the Eurostar. Kate’s stomach fluttered as she listed to the warbled ringtone three times before the line connected. Voicemail. Dammit.

She would have to take a chance. The small purple suitcase was still under the bed from Luke’s last work trip. Underwear first.

In the underwear drawer were about twenty pairs of black knickers and ten bras, only three of which actually still fit. There were even a couple of grey maternity bras still kicking around in there like teenagers with nowhere to go. She pulled out the least pathetic-looking items. Maybe she could buy something new once she got there? Something sexy, even.

Next, she opened her wardrobe. What clothes should she take? These options filled her with even less enthusiasm. A row of loose-fitting tops and leggings. Her uniform was worse than the kids’. Maybe she should be the one raiding the hair accessories? Downstairs she could hear the beginning of an argument; there were probably only about five minutes before tears and/or bloodshed.