This time it wasn’t down to Frank’s homemade cider, but copious gin and tonics downed at one of Bristol’s supposed hot-spots. Evie couldn’t even remember which one, a circumstance that reminded her so much of her wayward teenage years she didn’t know if she should be proud of herself or deeply ashamed. It was all Eloise’s fault. Perhaps as an apology for her outrageous accusations, the youngest Peacock had proposed a mammoth blow-out. Evie hadn’t needed much convincing, but she had stipulated she’d only go if Sarah came along. Sarah, she figured, was sensible enough to at least make sure they all got home safely. The Sunday morning sounds of work on the allotment roused Evie from a fitful sleep. Last night she’d talked about stuff from her childhood she hadn’t even shared with James, and hearing herself say the words out loud had produced an odd reaction. Instead of the usual mixture of anger and resentment, Evie found herself feeling just a little bit sorry for her mum.
