by Sue Fortin
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to get upset like that.’
‘Don’t apologise,’ says Tom. His voice is soft and I’m suddenly aware of how close we are physically. His head is almost resting on mine. At some point, I don’t know when or who instigated it, our lips meet and we engage in more than just a friendly peck. Instantly, I’m back at Oxford, we’re twenty-one again and Tom is comforting me when I’m upset that my search for Alice is futile. How ironic that we find ourselves like this again, but because Alice has been found. Or rather, she has found us.
I feel tired from thinking about it all. It hurts too much. It’s all so painful and yet, here, in Tom’s arms, everything feels familiar and right. It reminds me of those student days when everything was good in the world, when the future ahead was full of excitement and promise. When there were no adult responsibilities. No lost files. No pending court cases. No cheating husband.
Chapter 16
Something inside my head snaps me back into reality. What the hell am I doing? I wriggle out of Tom’s embrace. Thank God it hasn’t gone any further than a kiss, not that a kiss is okay, but Jesus, what if I’d ended up having sex with him?
‘Sorry, Tom,’ I say, smoothing my hair back, which has somehow come out of the ponytail. ‘I can’t. It’s not right.’
Tom leans in again and tries to kiss me. I pull even further back. ‘No. Seriously, Tom, I mean it.’ God, my head feels fuzzy. My limbs and arms are finding it difficult to respond, they’re sluggish and tired.
Tom looks at me. ‘You sure?’
I nod. ‘I’m sure.’
For the briefest of moments, I think I catch a glimpse of anger cross Tom’s face, but it’s gone in a flash and he offers what I can only describe as a sad smile. ‘That’s a shame,’ he says.
I feel uncomfortable at the closeness of us. I’m now perched on the edge of the sofa and, any closer, Tom would be sitting on my knee. ‘Luke’s a lucky man,’ says Tom. ‘He gets to eat his cake and keep it.’
I’m finding it hard to think straight and I massage my temples with my fingertips in a bid to clear my mind. ‘Two wrongs don’t make a right,’ I say. Now that my initial anger with Alice and Tom has subsided, my logical professional brain is kicking in. Well, as much as it can do through this thick fog that is drifting around in my head. I have no proof that Luke has slept with Alice. Earlier I was angry, hurt and jealous. It’s amazing how strong those emotions are when they all collide together in one big mess. They’re like a jumble of cooked spaghetti; all mixed up, twirling and swirling in a tangle. I much prefer the thought process that goes with uncooked pasta: straight lines, organised and easy to follow.
‘I’m not asking you to pack your bags, leave Luke and move in here,’ says Tom. ‘I’m just offering a safe place of refuge for as long as you like.’ He reaches over and picks up my glass of brandy. ‘Here, finish your drink and then see how you feel.’
‘No, not for me. Sorry. I shouldn’t have any more to drink. God knows what’s in that stuff, but it’s bloody strong. I feel so tired.’ My eyes are heavy and I’m sure I could go to sleep right there and then.
‘Just sit back for a moment,’ says Tom. ‘I’ll make you a coffee.’
‘Thanks, that sounds like a good idea.’
Tom picks up a cushion and as I twist around in the sofa, he places it behind my head. I rest back against it and close my eyes. I feel Tom’s hand stroke my forehead. ‘No hard feelings?’ he says.
‘No hard feelings,’ I confirm. My words sound as tired as I feel.
The next thing I’m aware of is the blanket pulled up to my chin and draped over the front of me, tucked in at the shoulders. I open my eyes and it takes a moment to focus. I can’t make out where I am. The light is dim but it’s not quite dark outside. I look around the room and then, with a sudden clarity, I know exactly where I am. Tom’s living room.
A gentle breathing is the next thing I register and I go to move my head, but it hurts too much, so I make do with moving my eyes only to my right. Tom is asleep on the sofa next to me. He is wearing a T-shirt and jogging pants. The events of the last few hours gradually unfold in my mind, rather like a game of pass-the-parcel, each minute gradually unwrapping another layer of memory.
I yank the cover from me and am relieved to see I’m still fully clothed, apart from my jacket, which is hanging over the arm of the sofa and my shoes, which are splayed on the floor, obviously kicked off rather than taken off. There are two brandy glasses on the table. One half-full and the other empty. There’s also a cup of coffee, full and stone cold. On the table is a camera, a mobile phone, a scrunched-up tissue and the McMillan file. Then I remember kissing Tom.
I’m filled with a blind panic. I kissed Tom! Not just a peck on the cheek, but a full-on kiss.
Shit!
The next layer of wrapping paper is peeled away and I remember saying no to Tom. To stopping things before they went any further. Thank God for that. Although I can’t ignore the guilt that is now hammering at my chest.
I need to get home to try to sort out this mess that has become my life.
I slip my feet into my shoes and stand up, rather wobbly, but I hold onto the back of the sofa for support while I steady myself. I grab my stuff and tiptoe out of the house. Once in my car, I rummage in my handbag for my phone.
When I see the list of messages and missed calls my heart leaps. Three missed calls and a text message from Pippa. Five missed calls, three text messages from Luke and what appear to be three voicemail messages. How the hell did I miss those? The volume has been switched off. I have no recollection of doing that at all. I fumble with the phone, unlocking the screen and scrolling through the messages.
‘Shit. Shit. Shit!’ I could cry. How has this happened? I hardly dare listen to the voicemail messages. One from Luke and one from Pippa. Oh, God. I totally forgot to get the girls from Brownies. How? What is wrong with me? Talk about self-indulgent. I was so busy worrying about Alice and how it was all affecting me, I didn’t give my child and my friend’s child a second thought. And now … shit … now there’s a rather severe voicemail message from Pippa telling me she’s at the hospital with Daisy and that she’s furious with me and holds me totally responsible.
I slam the phone into the hands-free cradle and hit the dial button for Luke. My hands are shaking as I ram the key into the ignition and tear out of the parking space, heading towards the general hospital in Brighton. It crosses my mind that I had two brandies earlier and nothing to eat. I feel okay, just a little headache coming now. I wish I’d had that coffee. Then I remember a bottle of water in my bag and, with one hand, manage to fish it out, snapping open the sports cap and glugging the water down. It’s a bit warm, but I don’t care. Luke picks up.
‘Clare! Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you. So has Pippa. You were supposed to get the girls. Did you get any of my messages?’
He’s angry. No doubt about it but, to be fair, he’s been angry with me for a while now. ‘Yes. I’m sorry. My phone was on silent. What’s happened?’
‘Basically, you didn’t turn up for the girls after Brownies, so the Brown Owl, or whatever the fuck she’s called, phoned home. Alice had to go and get them. She took them to the park on the way back and Daisy had an accident. Fell off the climbing frame or something. Anyway, she’s broken her arm and Pippa is up the hospital with her now.’
‘Oh, God. I’m sorry. Is Hannah okay?’
‘Yes, she’s fine.’
‘Why did Alice go?’
‘She was the only one who could go.’ I detect a little apprehension in Luke’s voice.
‘Why? Where was Mum? Where were you?’
‘Your mum went out to her WI meeting and I, err, fell asleep. Alice didn’t want to wake me, so she just went straight over to Budlington.’
‘She walked?’
‘No, she took my car.’
‘Can she do that? I didn’t think she’d be insured. What if she
’d had an accident?’
‘For fuck’s sake, Clare. You’re not the prosecution now. Where were you, anyway?’
‘I needed to bit of breathing space. Look, I can’t speak now, I’m nearly at the hospital. I’ll talk to you later.’ I hang up before we can take the conversation further. To tell Luke that I spent the afternoon and evening with Tom won’t go down very well. I need to be able to tell him face to face when I can explain it properly, not some hashed phone call while I’m driving and worried about Pippa and Daisy.
To say I’m persona non grata is something of an understatement. As I enter A&E and am advised by the receptionist where I can find Daisy Stent, I’ve only made it halfway down the line of cubicles when Pippa launches herself at me.
‘A bit sodding late to show up now,’ she says, not bothering to keep her voice down.
I look apologetically at one of the nurses, who glances over. Pippa’s never been one to mix her words. She says exactly what she’s thinking. It’s something that I love about her and it has caused much amusement in the past. We joke that she has no filter, but today it’s not so funny being on the receiving end of her sharp tongue.
‘Pippa, I’m so sorry. Really sorry. I got held up. My phone was on silent. Sorry.’ It sounds pathetic and I am pathetic.
‘What the hell happened? Where were you?’ Pippa’s eyes are burning with anger, but I can also see they are red from crying.
‘I had an argument at home. I needed to get out of the house. I’m sorry, Pip, honestly I am. How’s Daisy?’
‘Broken arm. Baz is in there with her. They’re going to put a cast on it in a minute.’
‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘What? I don’t think so. The only thing you had to do was to pick the girls up, but you didn’t manage that. Why the hell did Alice get them?’
‘She was the only one available.’ I don’t want to tell Pippa that Luke was asleep. It’s bad enough that one of us has failed big time at parenting. I go to offer yet another apology but am cut off by Pippa.
‘Look, Clare, we all make mistakes, I know that, but when you’re responsible for a child, someone else’s child, there’s no room for mistakes. I haven’t said anything to Baz, but before he got here, Daisy told me that Alice pushed her on purpose.’
‘What? Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Alice wouldn’t do that.’
‘You can think what you like, but Daisy doesn’t tell lies. Not about things like this, she wouldn’t. And I know all that bullshit about parents thinking their child is an angel, I know Daisy’s not, but she wouldn’t lie about something like that.’
‘Maybe she’s mistaken,’ I suggest, inwardly preparing myself to bat away more of Pippa’s wrath. Would Alice intentionally harm a child? It seems a bit much to believe and why would she do it? It just doesn’t make sense. And yet, there’s a tiny voice at the back of my mind that is challenging my thought process. It wouldn’t be the first time Alice has done something different from the perceived norm. Pippa’s reply interrupts my thoughts.
‘Daisy’s not mistaken. I asked Hannah and she just kept saying she doesn’t know what happened.’
‘Well, perhaps she doesn’t know.’ The mother in me automatically leapfrogs over my professional brain to the defence of my daughter. ‘I’m sure Hannah’s not lying.’
‘In just the same way as I’m sure Daisy isn’t. You ask Hannah and you tell me if she’s telling the truth or not.’
‘Pippa, that’s out of order. Hannah wouldn’t lie.’ I mentally cross my fingers. I’m sure all children lie at some time. ‘Not about something like this.’
‘Depends who’s applying the pressure,’ says Pippa.
‘Where are Alice and Hannah, anyway?’
‘Gone. I didn’t want her hanging around and Hannah was upset.’
‘Can I see Daisy?’
‘What for? To cross-examine her about the incident? Are you going to get her to swear to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth?’
‘Pippa, please.’
‘Look, Clare. Now’s not a good time. I need to get back to Daisy. You need to get back to your family and sort out whatever the hell is going on.’
I nod, accepting Pippa’s decision. ‘Okay, I am sorry, Pippa, you do know that, don’t you?’
‘I’ve got to go,’ says Pippa.
‘Yeah, sure. I’ll make it up to the girls when Daisy comes for a sleepover at the weekend. If her arm’s okay, that is. Even if she just came for tea. Yeah?’
Pippa looks long and hard at me. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.’
‘Hannah will be devastated,’ I say, thinking how much Hannah is looking forward to the sleepover. She has it all planned, a mini make-over, party tea, a movie and popcorn, followed by a sleepover. She’s been planning it for weeks.
‘I’m not comfortable with Daisy being anywhere near Alice and I’m not even sure Daisy would want to be at yours now, not after this. Don’t take it personally, Clare, it’s not you it’s your sister.’
‘But you’re punishing Hannah for my mistake.’
‘And don’t you think Daisy has been punished too? She’s got a broken arm. For God’s sake, Clare. Stop thinking about yourself all the time. Daisy won’t be coming for a sleepover. I don’t want her anywhere near your creepy fucking sister. End of.’
Chapter 17
When I arrive home, the reception is just as frosty from everyone as it was at the hospital. The only one pleased to see me is Hannah. She rushes up to me and hugs me. I feel so guilty for not being there to collect her from Brownies. I’ve let her down and I’ve let Daisy down. If only I hadn’t gone to Tom’s and had those brandies, then I wouldn’t have fallen asleep and missed it. I still don’t know how my phone ended up on silent. I hug Hannah back tightly, drawing on her love. It’s the only comfort I’m going to get tonight. Chloe is already fast asleep in bed, so Luke informs me.
I spend the next hour with Hannah, bathing her, washing her hair and getting her ready for bed. I haven’t asked her about the incident at the playground yet but as we snuggle up on the sofa together, just me and her, while she has a glass of milk and biscuit before bed, it’s Hannah who brings the subject up first.
‘Is Daisy going to be okay?’ she asks.
I look down at my daughter’s worried little face and honestly feel so overcome with emotion that I could cry. ‘Yes, she will be. She’s broken her arm and the doctors have put a plaster cast on it. You know, like the one nanny had when she fell over last year.’
‘What colour is it?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t see it. I only spoke to Daisy’s mummy. Now don’t be worrying, Daisy will be fine.’ I don’t want to upset Hannah even more by telling her what Pippa said about the sleepover. Maybe Pippa will have calmed down by next weekend and will let Daisy come after all. I’ve already decided to give it a couple of days before I call Pippa and see if we can smooth things over. I don’t have many friends and, although that’s never been a real problem for me in the past, right now I could do with an ally, especially as Luke seems to have defected.
‘Did you see what happened at the park?’ I ask Hannah, hoping my voice sounds relaxed.
Hannah circles the rim of the cup with her finger. ‘No.’
‘What? Nothing at all?’
‘No. Daisy fell over. I don’t know what happened.’
‘You know you can tell me, don’t you? Remember how you told me about the photo frame when Alice said not to? Well, it’s like that. You can tell me, even if she said you shouldn’t.’
‘Why does everyone keep asking me what happened? I don’t know.’ Hannah sticks out her bottom lip. I don’t want to upset her even more. I’ll try again tomorrow.
‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ I say. ‘Come on, let’s go up. I’ll tuck you in. You can look at a book for five minutes.’
Alice appears to be keeping out of my way. She’s in Mum’s sitting room this evening. I know I need to apologise for my
outburst earlier, but I’m finding it difficult as I may be sorry for the way I reacted, but I’m not sorry for what happened. Pippa was right, there is something odd about Alice. I think she’s playing games, but I just don’t know what that game could be or why.
I go into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. Luke is waiting for me. He’s leaning against the worktop, his arms folded. Even with the scowl on his face, I can’t help but think how handsome he looks. The way his hair falls this way and that, his black T-shirt and jeans so casual yet somehow so sexy. I can see why Alice would find him attractive. And then I think of myself and wonder if Luke thinks the same about me or has something changed? Have I lost something? Has he become bored of me? Am I boring? I mean, I go to work, I come home and change into my very casual clothes. Perhaps I’ve become too mumsy. I can see why Alice would be a much more appealing proposition. It hurts. Deeply.
I take the milk from the fridge and the photograph of Alice and her friend Martha has been put on the door, underneath a magnet that has a sentimental poem about mothers and daughters. I didn’t buy it. Alice must have. I look at the photograph and remember how happy Mum and I were when we received it. I slip it out from underneath the magnet. Something’s wrong. I can’t make up my mind what it is. I look at the photo some more.
‘Aren’t you going to explain what happened this evening?’ says Luke.
I jump. Distracted by the photo, I’d almost forgotten he was there. ‘I needed to get out. I didn’t know where I was going, but I ended up at Tom’s.’
I see the muscles in Luke’s neck tense but his face remains impassive. ‘Tom? As in Tom Eggar.’