The Postcard: Escape to Cornwall with the perfect summer holiday read. Fern Britton

       7

      Getting up the next morning, Penny couldn’t remember when she’d had more than a two-hour run of sleep. She felt weak and dizzy most of the time. Her appetite had drifted and her eating had become chaotic. Jenna was the centre of her being and yet she was being grizzly and difficult and Penny had started to berate herself for being a terrible mother. Simon, who was caught up in his preparations for Christmas and all the needs of his flock, hadn’t appreciated how low she was until last night.

      Penny had had too much wine and accused him of ignoring the most important commandment of all. ‘Remember, do unto others as you would have them do unto you!’ she shouted at him. ‘Would you love me more if I dressed up as Mary and slept in the garage with Jenna in the wheelbarrow? Chuck in a couple of sheep and an angel or two then we’d have your full attention?’

      ‘Penny,’ he said, ‘you and Jenna are my top priority but I’m a vicar and this is one of the busiest times of the year for me.’

      She clung to him, starting to cry. ‘It’s busy for me too. Christmas is less than four weeks away and I haven’t done anything. No presents. No cards. No tree. No husband to help me.’

      Simon had held her tight. ‘OK, my love, OK. You tell me what you’d like me to do and I’ll do it.’

      ‘Promise?’

      ‘Promise,’ he’d said.

      Penny drooped down the stairs and sat at the bottom to listen out for Jenna who was settling down for her morning sleep. Satisfied that all was quiet she hauled herself to her feet and made her way to the office. She was exhausted mentally and emotionally but, with wearying inevitability, she knew she had an email to write.

      To: Mavis Crewe

      From: Penny Leighton

      Subject: The Mr Tibbs Mysteries

      Dear Mavis,

      I can’t tell you how upset I am by your decision but I will honour it. In the next day or two I shall talk to David Cunningham and Dahlia Dahling’s agents and let them know that there is to be no more Mr Tibbs. David and Dahlia have worked so hard on their lead characters and I know they will be as distraught as I am seeing Mr Tibbs and Miss Trumpet leave our screens. I shall have to work on a press release that will go out once all the cast and production team have received the news.

      On a personal note, I can’t express how much I shall miss you. Your friendship has meant a lot to me. However, as you said, all good things come to an end and I guess this is the end.

      With fondest memories,

      Penny.

      She pressed send and quickly wrote another email, this time to Jack Bradbury, confirming that she accepted Mr Tibbs was no more and that she would not be presenting Channel 7 with plans for a future series.

      In the kitchen she opened the fridge and took out an opened bottle of Chablis. She looked at the kitchen clock. Just after eleven fifteen. She reached for a wine glass. The bottle of wine was cool in her hand and, as she pulled out the cork the nostalgic smells of hot, uncomplicated summers assaulted her. She poured just half a glass. That would be plenty to take the edge off. She pulled her chair, with the soft cashmere cushion on it, out from under the table and sat down. She put the glass to her mouth and drank. The wine slid down like oil into a rusted engine. She could feel her body waking to its silky caress and took another mouthful; almost as good as the first; and another, until the glass was empty. She went to the fridge and took a last refill from the bottle. With every sip a new fear tripped into her mind: how could she ever be a good mother when her own mother had hated her? When her sister hated her so much? She sat and closed her eyes, hoping it would help shut out the memories. She knew there was another bottle in the fridge. Maybe just one more glass? The more she drank, the more relaxed she became, and the more it didn’t matter. She stood up and knocked her chair backwards, making a loud clatter. ‘Shhhhh,’ she said to the empty room, ‘mustn’t wake Jenna.’ She took the remains of the bottle to the fridge. Her legs felt wobbly. ‘Oh Penny,’ she smiled ruefully, ‘you’re pissed. You need a little lie down on the sofa. Just forty winks.’

      *

      Penny had come home from school and her mother was sitting in the drawing room looking wronged. ‘Hello, Mummy, are you OK?’ asked Penny.

      Her mother shot her a look. ‘The doctor says your father needs a holiday. He needs a holiday? What about me? I’m the one who has suffered. I need a holiday more than he does.’

      Penny went to put her hand on her mother’s knee. ‘I’ll help you. I’ll swim with him and you can get some rest.’

      ‘You’re not coming.’

      Penny was baffled. ‘But Daddy likes to swim with me.’

      ‘You are staying with your aunt and uncle. You have school to go to. Daddy, Suzie and I are going to the south of France where it is warm.’ She pushed Penny’s hand away. ‘God knows how we can afford it.’

      Penny didn’t understand why her mother was always going on about money when she was always at the hairdresser’s or coming home with a new dress.

      ‘But Daddy can, can’t he?’

      ‘He’ll have to. I certainly can’t.’

      Penny thought about the other bit of news. She wasn’t going to join them on holiday. That hurt. She liked her uncle, her father’s brother, very much and her aunt was cuddly and kind, but she would rather be going on holiday with her family. ‘How long will you be away for?’

      ‘I’m not sure.’

      ‘Can I go and look at Daddy? If he’s asleep I won’t wake him. I promise.’

      ‘You must not go near his room. I have enough on my plate.’ Her mother got up and went looking for Suzie.

      Penny sneaked upstairs and opened the door of the spare bedroom as quietly as she could. Her father was lying on his side, facing away from her, his breathing deep and rhythmic. She crept a little closer and tiptoed around the bed so that she could see his face. His eyes were shut but he looked a lot better than he had done. She climbed on to the bed and snuggled next to him. She kissed his nose. He opened his eyes slowly and looked at her with a smile. ‘Hello, Pen.’

      ‘Hello, Daddy.’

      ‘I’ve missed you.’

      ‘I’ve missed you too – and I’m going to miss you when you go on holiday with Mummy and Suzie.’

      His face clouded momentarily. ‘Ah, Mummy’s told you, then?’

      Penny nodded.

      ‘I’m sorry, sausage, its doctor’s orders apparently and you don’t mind being at Uncle Nick and Auntie Dawn’s do you?’

      ‘Not really, but I’d rather be with you.’

      He put his arm around her and hugged her to him. ‘And I’d rather be with you.’

      ‘Penny!’ Her mother was shouting at her. ‘Penny! Wake up. Jenna’s screaming.’

      Penny opened her eyes – and Simon was standing in front of her …

      ‘Penny, have you been drinking? What’s going on?’

      She couldn’t think of a suitable answer. He turned and walked away. ‘I’d better see to Jenna. One of us has to be a responsible parent.’

      *

      ‘He looked at me with such – disappointment.’ Penny was sitting at Helen’s