She's Mine
Page 36
I look past her through the open doorway leading from the hallway to another room where I can see Katie sitting by the window in front of a large whiteboard easel, drawing pictures with a black marker pen. I’m so excited I can hardly restrain myself from rushing in, but I keep talking to try and win the woman’s confidence.
‘I can see she still loves drawing,’ I say. ‘When I was her nanny, I taught her how to draw mermaids. She used to spend hours drawing them.’
The woman relaxes and smiles though she’s not about to invite me in. But just then Katie turns away from the board and glances towards the front door. She throws down her pen and kicks back her chair.
‘Scarlett, Scarlett!’ she calls out, as she runs into my arms.
*
Katie tugs me by the hand out into the garden to the sandpit that’s been installed for her under the trees next to the swimming pool. It’s been transformed into a blanket-sized beach, decorated with her collection of Caribbean shells, complete with sunbeds and parasols made of fuse wire and fabric samples, and miniature rowing boats made of lacquered lollipop sticks. I’m pleased to see that Mitch’s Angel Wings have pride of place in the display. This must be Christina’s handiwork. Hidden talents – I never knew she was so creative.
There are three Barbie dolls lying down on a stripy facecloth that’s doubling as a beach towel on the sand. Katie picks up the Barbie doll with the long blonde hair.
‘Here’s Mummy,’ she says.
*
‘I’ve got something to show you,’ I say, rummaging through my daypack as we sit together on the grass.
‘It’s a special shell called a conch. I found it on a golden sandy beach in a country called Belize where I’ve been travelling. Here you are. I wrapped it in my T-shirt so it wouldn’t get broken.’
Katie unrolls the T-shirt to reveal the conch shell, bigger than my fist, brilliant white on the outside and the palest of pinks on the inside.
‘It’s for you,’ I say, ‘to add to your collection.’
I hold the shell up to Katie’s ear.
‘Listen. You can hear the sea.’
*
Back in the living room, while the new nanny makes tea, I sit alongside Katie as she draws on the whiteboard, intensely absorbed in her work, a series of drawings showing three figures – female (I can tell from the long hair!) – holding hands: a child in the middle, and a taller figure on either side.
‘Who’s that?’ I ask, pointing to each figure in turn.
‘Mummy, Katie and Scarlett,’ says Katie, before rubbing out the picture and starting all over again.
‘Is it the beach?’ I ask, pointing to the wavy line representing the sea.
Katie smiles.
‘It’s a hot, sunny day,’ I say, pointing to the circle surrounded by lines representing the sun in the sky.
*
While Katie draws, and rubs out and draws again, I look around the grand living room. My eyes are attracted to a large gilt-framed mirror on the wall above an antique, lacquered sideboard. I wander over and look at myself in the glass. Out in the Costa Rican jungle where I’ve spent much of the last few weeks, there aren’t many mirrors, and I’m quite happy with what I see – my features chiselled by exercise and outdoor pursuits and the diet of tropical fruits, copper highlights in my hair, eyes shining and teeth sparkling white, all set off by a golden tan. I am literally glowing with health.
I glance down, and then I see it. The album. I’m surprised Christina would want to have it out on display. She’s set it up almost like a shrine – the album in the middle, surrounded by little bowls of rose petals and a candle burning on either side.
I leaf through the pages – despite the rose petals, there’s a faint smell of smoke still clinging to the paper. I get to Photograph Thirteen – the blank page. Gabrielle never did get to choose the last image. But the page isn’t blank any more. Christina must have decided to complete the album her way.
She’s amended Gabrielle’s heading for Photograph Thirteen so that it now reads, Lucky, lucky me!
Instead of one photograph, she’s stuck in a sequence of three – pictures of Katie’s birthday party, a couple of months ago.
The first is a portrait of Katie dressed in a pretty, pale-blue silk party dress, looking on in wonder, in front of a large pink birthday cake lit with five candles, decorated with mermaids, and ringed with rosebuds and shells. The second picture shows Katie blowing out the candles with a handful of little girls on either side, clapping and laughing. The third is another close-up shot, this time of Christina herself, sporting a short, stylish Lady Diana haircut. She must have overcome her long-standing aversion to being photographed. She looks well. Her smile is confident and flirtatious, as if she’s sharing a joke with one of the dads, her right hand resting on Katie’s shoulder and her left hand (beautifully manicured and adorned with a large diamond solitaire), slicing into the soft pink icing with the long silver blade of a cake knife.
She never told me she was getting engaged!
I can’t think why, but as I return to Katie’s side, the words of Lennie, the casino manager, pop into my head.
I never forget hands.
An image of a hand, sporting a sparkling platinum engagement ring, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the one in the photograph, a hand holding a different blade, flashes into my consciousness but I delete it instantly. I can’t allow myself to dwell on that.
James bought two pairs of jade earrings, so why not two engagement rings? Or perhaps in that final confrontation Christina simply took back what she believed was rightfully hers?
*
We drink tea, and Katie shows me her bedroom – all pretty pink rosebuds and pastel paints – and she places the conch shell beside her pillow so she can listen to the sea before she goes to sleep, and I read her a story, and I draw her a mermaid… and then I look at my watch and it’s time to go.
I’m sorry to miss Christina but maybe it’s no bad thing that she’s been delayed at work. Some things are best left uncertain and unsaid.
‘I have to go to the airport now, Katie,’ I say. ‘I’m catching a plane back to my home in England.’
As we cross the landing, I pause outside Christina’s room and look around, imagining her new life here. I go into the room. Katie waits outside on the landing, looking the other way.
In contrast to the living rooms downstairs, Christina’s bedroom is decorated in a modern and minimalist style – no books or paintings on the walls, just cool linen curtains and grey silk sheets on the enormous bed and a large frameless mirror above a desk that is clear of clutter, save for one photograph of Katie as a tiny newborn baby set in a mother-of-pearl frame.
It feels a little lonely and oppressive in here. The window is open. The curtain smells faintly of cigarettes.
It’s time to go. I don’t want to miss my plane.
My taxi is parked at the end of the drive. Katie follows me down the stairs to the front door. She’s still holding the Barbie with the long blonde hair that she calls ‘Mummy’.
She tugs on my hand.
‘I want to go home.’
She says the words slowly and clearly and it occurs to me that this is the first time ever that I’ve heard her speak a proper sentence.
I crouch down beside her.
‘This is your home now.’
‘Where’s Mummy?’ she says. She fixes me with those searching blue eyes I remember so well – as clear and as deep as the Caribbean Sea.
I could drown in those eyes. So I look up to the dark outline of the nanny waiting in the shadows, anxious to close the door.
‘Mummy’s at work. She’ll be here very soon.’
I throw my arms round Katie and kiss her goodbye.
‘Give Mummy a hug for me.’
I stand up. I don’t want her to see me cry.
‘Mummy’s gone,’ says Katie softly as I turn and walk away.
Acknowledgements
So many people have helped
in the writing of this book and I am endlessly grateful to you all. My heartfelt thanks goes out…
To the team at Aria and in particular, my brilliant editor Hannah Smith who called me out of the blue last summer with the news that she would like to publish this story. Ever since that surreal phone conversation (partly drowned out so fittingly by the sound of breaking waves on a sun-scorched beach), she’s been fabulous to work with and I am so very thankful for her boundless enthusiasm and expertise, as well as her inspired editorial notes! Huge thanks also to Vicky Joss and the marketing and production gurus at Aria who created such an eye-catching cover for She’s Mine and are always on hand to help with all-things social media.
To the hardworking professionals behind the scenes – Aria copyeditors and proof-reader extraordinaire Sue Lamprell who transformed the text from a manuscript into a real book!
To my wonderful agent Hayley Steed for responding so positively to my first submission and for giving me a second chance when I returned with a complete manuscript two years later, having made the rookie mistake first time round of sending in the first three chapters when they were all I had written! I am incredibly lucky to be represented by the Madeleine Milburn agency.
To Jamilah and Barbara for their early faith in this book. I’ll always be grateful for their patience, guidance and professional help on the first stage of its journey to publication. Also, to Mike for editing the original text.
To my ‘Faber Grad’ and ‘Faberite’ friends for constructive feedback and great company both in class and beyond and especially to Karen, Elizabeth and Sam who read and commented on the novel at different stages of its development. You are all such brilliantly talented writers and perceptive critics – looking forward to a succession of book launches over the coming months and years!
To Faber tutor Shelley Weiner who taught us the fundamentals of creative writing and started us on this journey, and to Helen Francis and Sam Copeland who gave us many fascinating insights into the world of publishing. The courses were massively motivating and so much fun! Also, to the lovely people at the Blue Pencil Agency who run such great retreats!
To other ‘literary’ friends who so kindly and generously gave up their time to read, critique and comment on my drafts, including ‘Queenswomen’ Sara, Rose, Sarah and Janet for whom the backstory may have rung some bells, and ‘RGS mums’ Carol, Allison, Denise, Helena and Karen. Most especially, to Sara who read and reviewed the book not once but twice! What a star! Also, to author Kerry Fisher, my ‘grown-up’ writing friend who is a fabulous mentor. And to Ilinka for being keen enough to read the story with a dictionary as English is not her first language!
To new friends - some of whom I have met in person including authors of Aria/Head of Zeus and Madeleine Milburn, and others in the Twittersphere (special shout out to Barbara Bos of Women Writers) – what a lovely friendly community of writers, book bloggers, reviewers and readers!
To my father Graham, a rock of encouragement and support in so many ways for me and all the family, and to my parents-in-law Sylvia and Peter for their enthusiastic interest in my work.
To my sister Christine who was my very first reader and revealed impeccable editorial skills in correcting my grammar mistakes and plot inconsistencies in the early drafts! – I loved our transatlantic phone calls in the middle of the night. Your endorsement gave me the first hope I might be on to something!
To my husband Nigel for embracing (and bank-rolling!) my dream of becoming a writer and putting up with all my shortcomings on the domestic front with great fortitude and good humour! I couldn’t have done it without you…
To my girls, Clara and Louisa for reviewing my manuscript and liking it (that meant so much to me!) and for being the best sounding-boards imaginable for story lines, possible endings, plot twists and character traits. Needless to say, all my best ideas were stolen from you!
To my son, Jack, who inspired certain scenes in this book and kept me company in the writing of it as I tapped away to the soundtrack of his David Attenborough wildlife DVDs.
To all of you. In unique and varied ways, each of you has spurred me on to write this book.
THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!
And finally:
To new readers of She’s Mine – if you’re reading this, you made it to the end!
Thank you so much for that and I hope you enjoyed it!
Hello from Aria
We hope you enjoyed this book! Let us know, we’d love to hear from you.
We are Aria, a dynamic digital-first fiction imprint from award-winning independent publishers Head of Zeus. At heart, we’re avid readers committed to publishing exactly the kind of books we love to read — from romance and sagas to crime, thrillers and historical adventures. Visit us online and discover a community of like-minded fiction fans!
We’re also on the look out for tomorrow’s superstar authors. So, if you’re a budding writer looking for a publisher, we’d love to hear from you. You can submit your book online at ariafiction.com/we-want-read-your-book
You can find us at:
Email: aria@headofzeus.com
Website: www.ariafiction.com
Submissions: www.ariafiction.com/we-want-read-your-book
Facebook: @ariafiction
Twitter: @Aria_Fiction
Instagram: @ariafiction