“I am a bitch, a witch, a klutzy butterfingers.“The problem with you, Gemma,” Marcus used to say, “is you don’t concentrate.”She pulled up the straps of her swimmers and looked in Lyn’s cupboard for sunscreen. The house was becoming hotter and hotter. Nana, to Maxine’s disgust, had stripped down to her petticoat. Gemma’s own face in Lyn’s bathroom mirror was bright pink. She still had the piece of tinsel tied lopsided around her head, giving her a dopey, hopeful look.Charlie, she realized now, h...ad talked about his sister Angela, but she hadn’t even mentally noted that the names were the same. They didn’t feel the same. There was Angela, Charlie’s younger sister, whom he obviously adored. Then, there was Angela, evil husband stealer.The right thing to do was to break up with him.It would be a noble gesture of triplet solidarity.It would be a sisterly sacrifice.It would be like going on a hunger strike.“Charlie, ask your sister why I can’t see you anymore. Ask her why she doesn’t look for wedding rings before she starts flirting and breaking my sister’s heart.”Ah, but Charlie.Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.The night before they’d had their own special Christmas Eve dinner on Charlie’s balcony.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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