The living room smelled like burnt something—burnt stew? Burnt pudding? Burnt everything?
No one could tell.
Catherine sprayed air freshener around for the fourth time, fanning the air dramatically.
"Mum, the whole house smells like smoke. Are you sure the food is edible?"
Valerie shot her a sharp look. "Be quiet. Your father will soon be back. Don't spoil things."
Catherine whispered under her breath, "The food already spoiled itself."
Valerie ignored her.
A few minutes later, they heard a car stop outside. Catherine quickly dropped the air freshener like she hadn't been fighting for her life with it two seconds ago. Valerie straightened her apron and wiped sweat off her forehead again.
Duncan entered the house looking tired, dusty, and ready to collapse. His shirt was wrinkled, and his tie was halfway loosened. He placed his bag on the floor and fell into his usual chair.
"Welcome, honey," Valerie said sweetly.
