by K. L. Slater
Back home, I thank Mum for looking after Maisie but I act purposely distant.
The way she’s started looking at me, the off the cuff comment Shaun made about the two of them speaking… I know I can’t share what I found out about Joanne today. Not if, at some point, custody of our daughter is in the balance. Joanne was never arrested nor charged; I can just imagine Shaun using my trip to the coast to prove I’m totally paranoid.
Jack seemed so totally convinced that something didn’t add up that day. If she could plan and implement something as terribly callous as pushing Bethany overboard, there’s now no doubt in my mind she’s responsible for psychologically damaging Maisie to drive her away, make her lose the will to live. Yet the only person who seems to buy into that theory is me.
I need some time to think, time to consider my next move.
‘Maisie’s been asleep most of the day,’ Mum says. ‘Or at least she appears to be resting when I put my head around her door. I think if she doesn’t improve, I should take her to the doctor’s again.’
When Mum has left, I pace the house, debating whether to contact the other partners, Dan and Roy, at work right now, tell them what I’ve discovered. I know they must be unaware of Joanne’s past; they’re sticklers for squeaky-clean histories for all their staff.
Still, the echoes of Damian haunt my thoughts. And that strange loose feeling in my guts is back, when I start to wonder if ultimately, I’m to blame for his death.
Plus, Maisie’s relationship with Joanne is bound to strengthen as time goes on. She doesn’t want to go over to her place right now, but I know Shaun won’t accept that for long.
My heart fills with ice when I think about the trips Maisie takes out with them. Shaun mentioning applying for custody of our daughter…
If I reveal Joanne’s secret, I have to be prepared that anything could happen. What would she do to protect her past?
The other side of her, the side that I’ve heard about today, would be capable of anything, I think.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
I sleep better than I’ve done for a while.
I went to bed early last night, but before I did, I took warm milk up to Maisie’s room and we talked and I was gratified she actually took a few sips.
I brought the conversation round to her dad, about arranging for him to come to the house to spend some time with her.
‘I want to see Dad, I just don’t want to see them.’ She scowled. ‘Can he come over soon?’
When I went to bed, my mind felt a little clearer about some things, at least. I felt vindicated now I’d found out Joanne’s secret; I always suspected she was hiding something and now I knew.
It felt like I held the cards now. All I had to do was to make sure I kept Maisie away from Joanne’s toxic influence, until I decided exactly how I was going to reveal what happened to her husband and his child to the company and, more importantly, to Shaun.
I instinctively knew I had to do so in a way that put me in a concerned light. I knew I had to pick my moment with Shaun, so he could fully appreciate the implications.
Joanne was never arrested, but it was clear to me after my digging around, that she had gone to great lengths to bury her past. Its revelation could well tip her over the edge and expose the real her.
When I wake, I feel I should make a real effort to build bridges again with Shaun.
I plan to let him know he’s welcome here and that it’s by far the best thing for Maisie in getting back to her normal self if they spend time alone for a while. Taking the emphasis away from her lack of eating and lack of friends is what’s needed, according to Dr Yesufu.
I’ve already decided I’m not going into work today. I don’t think I can face Joanne and her holier-than-thou act in the office, without blurting something out about what I know. It’s vital I choose my moment so she can’t wriggle out of the truth.
I’m thinking, instead, if I can arrange for Shaun to come over to watch Maisie while I pop out to the supermarket.
Mum’s right. I’ve let things slip in the house, I know that. On top of this, I’m not eating properly myself, either. How can I expect Maisie to recover her appetite when I’ve neglected our regular mealtimes or properly cooked food that we can sit down and share together?
It’s time I sorted myself out, before I decide what to do about Joanne Dent. Provided Maisie is safe here with me, there’s no rush; Joanne’s awful past isn’t going to go away.
As if on cue, my phone beeps and a text pings through from Shaun.
Any chance I can collect the rest of my papers from the office today?
Perfect! I reply:
Maisie off sch and in bed. Can you watch her here at the house for a couple of hours pls?
A few more exchanged texts and we agree for Shaun to come just after lunch as he’s busy until then. Not ideal, but it’s the start of me trying to rebuild an understanding between us. I readily agree.
It feels as if things are already on the turn for the better.
Chapter Seventy
Shaun arrives at three o’clock. Far later than we agreed.
I walk to the door, thinking how I’ve used the extra time wisely while waiting for him to arrive, making an effort to chat to Maisie about the Christmas show and how proud I am of her.
‘It’s important you don’t miss any classes now, so you’re the best you can be in your role,’ I explained. ‘Miss Diane believes in you and so do I. When you show the other girls how brilliant you are, they’re all going to realise how silly they’ve been.’
‘I don’t feel well enough to go to today’s class,’ she said quickly.
‘That’s fine.’ I didn’t want to push her too hard and besides, I was hoping Shaun might stay for a good few hours.
She brightened a little then and she did show some interest when I suggested we could perhaps get away in the new year to the coast for a few days. Just her and me, wrapped up warm and holed away in a tiny cottage somewhere.
‘I’d like that, Mum.’ She smiled, hugging her knees to her. ‘Somewhere far away from here.’
She ate half a slice of toast in front of me and took a few sips of orange juice. That definitely counted as progress and I can’t help drawing parallels with her improvement and the fact I’ve told her she won’t be going to Joanne’s for a while.
Shaun looks a bit bashful when I open the door, but I smile and ask him if he’d like a cup of tea before I go out to do the food shopping.
‘Oh! Thanks, yes. That’ll be nice.’
He seems taken aback by my pleasant manner, as if he expected a dressing down for being late. Perhaps I’ve been more difficult with him than I’d imagined.
‘Alright, tiger?’ He walks over to the seating area, where Maisie is lying watching television.
‘Hi, Dad.’ She turns her face for a kiss and he ruffles her hair.
‘Lazy bones, still in your comfies,’ he teases her, pulling at her pyjama top. I see his face drop when he takes in how baggy it’s getting on her diminishing frame.
Within minutes, they’re joking and chatting about TV programmes. This is what they’ve needed; time together to bond again.
I make Shaun’s tea and then I grab my handbag and shrug on my quilted jacket. There’s plenty of time for us to chat when I get back and I want to get something nice for tea in the hope he might join us and stay a while longer.
‘I’m off to Sainsbury’s, I’ll be a couple of hours at the most,’ I say, kissing Maisie goodbye. ‘You two have fun.’
They barely notice I’m leaving, they’re chatting so much.
I head for the car, happier than I’ve felt for weeks. I want my daughter back and nobody is going to stop me doing what I need to do to make that happen.
I get to the supermarket, remember to take the canvas shopping bags out of the boot for once, and open the shopping list app on my phone. The shop is pleasant at this time of day; no rushed lunchtime shoppers or manic after-work visits from people like me. I even
start to fantasise what it might be like to sell the house and be able to get a part-time position in a smaller practice so I can be there for Maisie more.
The thought itself seems to spring from nowhere and it surprises me.
My whole life, I’ve never considered anything less than forging ahead with a steely determination to prove my dead father wrong. For the first time ever, that approach feels like a cage rather than a motivation. Promotion is not the only gauge of success in this life.
The realisation brings a lightness to my step, melts the heaviness in my chest.
Another job I did this morning was make a list of ingredients for Maisie’s favourite meals. If I keep her away from negative people and make delicious food, I reckon she should be on the road to recovery in no time at all.
I’m planning to make a family favourite for tea; good old bangers and mash. Inside the shop, I follow my list, gathering together quality ingredients and basics needed for my badly depleted larder and fridge.
I’m about to pass the wines and spirits section when I impulsively grab a couple of bottles of the red that’s on offer on the aisle-end display. Maybe, just maybe, Shaun will appreciate a glass later when we hopefully have a heart-to-heart talk about our daughter and he can see I’ve changed my curt approach.
If we can both relax a little and really talk honestly, he might begin to wonder if I’ve got it so wrong about Joanne after all.
I pop the wine in the trolley and when I look up, Sandeep’s mum is rushing around the corner like a woman on a mission, clutching an already overfilled wire basket. Her eyes widen when she sees me and for an awful moment I think she’s going to ignore me, but I smile and stop walking.
‘Seems like forever since I saw you,’ I say, my voice upbeat. ‘I said to Maisie just the other day, Sandeep really ought to come over for a sleepover soon.’
‘That’s kind, but…’ She transfers her weight from one foot to the other. ‘Well, we’ve all got such busy lives, haven’t we? In fact, I’m hurrying now because—’
‘Maisie’s been in a bit of a bad place, you see,’ I cut over her excuse. ‘I think she needs to reconnect with her friends and Sandeep was one of her best friends.’
‘Yes. I do know that.’ She’s dropped the fake manners now and she plonks the heavy basket down on the floor. ‘Sandeep has been very upset, too.’
‘Why’s that?’ I’m wondering if it’s all a big misunderstanding and the girls just need us mums to gently encourage them to reconnect again.
‘The notes Maisie wrote?’ She’s staring me out now, eyes popping. ‘Sandeep’s ballet slipper flushed down the loo?’
‘What? I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sarita.’
‘Oh come on, I’m sure you do, but I don’t blame you for being embarrassed. Everyone understands Maisie has been affected by her dad leaving and—’
‘Now just a minute.’ I push the trolley to one side and step closer to her. ‘I don’t like the sound of this casual gossip about my daughter. You mentioned notes?’
Sarita began to speak mechanically, as if she was going through the motions because I’d asked, but that she was under no illusions I knew all about what had happened.
‘Sandeep had a note pushed into her dance bag. It was from Maisie, telling her she was a little bitch and she didn’t want to be her friend any more.’
‘Just stop right there! Maisie would never—’
‘Maisie signed the bloody thing!’
Her fury matches my own. We stand aside as a sales assistant saunters by looking concerned at our clenched fists and aggressive stances.
I shake my head. It doesn’t make any sense.
But Sarita’s in full flow now.
‘Zoe invited everyone to her birthday party, including Maisie. Surprise, surprise, Zoe got a note too, telling her in no uncertain terms to eff off, quote: “I would rather die than go to your crappy little farm visit.” Again, she had the audacity to sign it.’
‘This is crazy,’ I whisper to myself. I grasp the trolley handle for support as I feel suddenly queasy.
‘And Sandeep caught Maisie red-handed, flushing her missing ballet slipper down the loo, tears streaming down her face while she did it! She’s obviously disturbed.’
My skin feels like it’s being grilled. The heat inside me is building.
‘So now perhaps you understand why the girls are staying clear of Maisie, Emma.’ She picks up her wire basket and pushes her shoulders back. ‘Now. If you’ll excuse me… I have somewhere I need to be.’
Chapter Seventy-One
I don’t know how long I stand there, in the middle of Sainsbury’s; my knuckles are white from grasping on to the trolley too hard and my cheeks feel as if they’re blazing. When I come to, I realise I’m drawing some unwanted attention.
The sales assistant I saw earlier has now returned with a man in a suit.
‘Are you alright, madam? My colleague noticed earlier that you were—’
‘Mind your own bloody business!’ I yell and push the half-filled trolley away. I run past them, taking the quickest route through an operating checkout, out of the shop.
I ferret blindly in my handbag for my keys as I rush across the car park towards the car. I feel so sick, Sarita’s accusations about my daughter whooshing around in my head.
But she sounded so outraged, so angry on behalf of her daughter… I could tell, as a mother, I’d feel exactly the same if it had happened to Maisie.
Sarita left before I could ask her any questions. Why haven’t the other mums spoken to Miss Diane about this? She’s had plenty of chances to tell me when I’ve called in at the studio. Why haven’t the other mums – Sarita in particular – walked up the road to my car and asked to speak to me about it?
The biggest question of all is, why hasn’t Maisie told me any of this stuff has been happening? It’s an enormous burden for a young girl to bear alone, everyone against her.
Her repeated pleas to me, asking if she can stop her dance lessons, fill my ears and then I realise. Piper, or Joanne herself, must have forced Maisie to do these awful things to make the other girls hate her.
I know, from what I found out yesterday, that Joanne will stop at nothing to get what she wants.
And only Joanne Dent would have the power to tell the adults to keep their mouths shut. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.
I pull up on the drive and jump out. A wave of heat bursts up into my chest and neck when I realise Shaun’s car isn’t parked on the road outside the house.
The front door is locked. I use my key and burst into the hallway.
‘Shaun? Maisie?’
No answer.
‘Hello?’ I run from room to room but I already know he’s taken her out somewhere.
‘Shit!’ I stab my finger on my phone screen. Shaun’s phone rings but he doesn’t answer and it sends me to voicemail.
‘Where are you? You were supposed to stay here, Shaun, you knew that! Ring me back immediately. It’s important.’
I don’t wait long before calling him again. And again. And again.
Finally, he calls me back.
‘Thank God! Where have you taken her? Is she OK?’
‘Calm down, Emma! What the hell is wrong with you?’
‘I need to speak to Maisie and you were supposed to stay in the house, you—’
‘She’s fine,’ he says, his tone implying I’m being ridiculous. ‘She said she felt much better, so I brought her back to Jo’s and—’
‘What? You had no right!’ Infuriatingly, tears begin to sprout. ‘You don’t know the full story, Shaun. I’m coming over there right now.’
‘No. You’re not coming over while you’re in a state, Emma.’
We both fall silent. A stand-off; our daughter caught in the middle.
And so I tell him. Very quickly, I tell him about Joanne’s possible involvement in Paul and Bethany Stafford’s deaths.
‘I think you need help,’ he s
ays after a pause. ‘You’re not coping and making up these terrible stories—’
‘Put Maisie on the phone right now,’ I say curtly, swallowing down disappointment at both myself, for rushing the telling of Joanne’s secret, and also at Shaun for immediately defending her.
‘Maisie’s not here,’ he says falteringly. ‘Joanne persuaded her to go to dance class after all with Piper. I thought you’d be pleased.’
Back in the car, I reverse out of the drive like a madwoman and get beeped at by an oncoming vehicle for my trouble. I don’t care. I need to get to the dance school right now and get Maisie back to safety. It’s time everybody knows exactly who Joanne Dent really is.
I’d hung up on Shaun and rushed out here, not even checking I’d closed the front door properly behind me. Nothing matters any more, nothing except making sure my daughter is safe and away from that evil cow Shaun has decided to bring into our lives.
I drive to the dance studio on automatic pilot, somehow managing to get there in one piece, although I know by the number of hand gestures and horns beeped, I didn’t do it safely.
Just as I turn on to the road, my phone rings, flashes up Joanne Dent’s name.
I ignore it. Shaun will have told her I’m on the warpath and she’ll be trying to fool me, just like she manages to fool everyone else with her easy charm and clever lies.
I want her nowhere near my daughter from now on. I don’t care if I ruin her career and her relationship with Shaun; what she has done is a thousand times worse than Damian did and I dealt with him.
The phone bleeps to inform me I have an answerphone message but I don’t bother listening to it. I’ll say what I need to when I see her face to face. When she can’t wriggle out of the truth.
The class should be in situ now. There is no sign of any of the other parents and yet I spot, with a start, that Joanne’s Mercedes is still parked on the double yellow lines outside the foyer.