11 Missed Calls

by Elisabeth Carpenter

  She stands over me and I go to place it on the floor.

  ‘No, no. Have a sip.’

  I do as she says, my resolve weaker than my mind. I feel the cool drink run down my throat and into my stomach. It leaves a lovely warmth.

  ‘How much alcohol’s in that?’ I say.

  She settles back down and places the headphones over her ears.

  ‘Enough.’

  She closes her eyes. So much for her helping with the baby.

  I take a longer sip from the straw. Perhaps this holiday would go a lot quicker if I were pissed.

  I’m sitting on a stool, leaning against the bar. I’m kind of thinking that the mixture of sun and vodka has gone to my head. But at least I feel more like me again. This is what I used to be like: fun. Whatever was in those cocktails has done the trick.

  Luckily, I had the foresight to make up a day’s bottles for Annie and they’re all neatly lined up in the fridge in the apartment – like I’m a proper earth mother, or something.

  After the first cocktail – I think there were at least three different spirits in there – I stood up and announced: ‘Peter!’ (I was probably as wobbly as I am now.) Anyway, I said, ‘Peter! Make that your last drink. You’re looking after your daughter for the rest of the day.’

  Monica sat bolt upright. Told you she wasn’t listening to music.

  ‘Good on you, girl,’ she said. ‘I’ll get us more.’

  Peter rolled his eyes at Nathan. Course he did. Though I don’t know why they’re suddenly so pally – they barely spoke at the airport. But here, in Tenerife-ee, they’re getting on like a house on wheels – fire – whatever; it’s too hot here. Peter gave the rest of his drink to Monica. I should’ve been pissed off about that, but I wasn’t, because she downed it in one, laughed and dragged me here, to the tiniest bar in the world.

  Only, it’s an hour or so later, and it’s not Monica sitting next to me, but Nathan.

  ‘And so, the trouble is, Debs …’ he says.

  I think he’s slurring his words more than I am. I’m only half concentrating on what he’s saying as I’ve only got one eye open and it’s taking in his face. He’s got a really nice face, but he doesn’t half go on and on and on.

  ‘… don’t you think?’ he says.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say.

  I can’t be bothered to hear what I missed out on. It’ll be nothing.

  ‘Really? You agree? That we should start our own pool bar together in Blackpool?’

  I feel my nose wrinkle. ‘Eh?’

  He turns and sips the rest of his drink, slurping the dregs with a straw.

  ‘Knew you weren’t listening,’ he says.

  He orders two more off the cocktail menu. I grab the drink and swivel on my stool so I can look over the pool. Monica and Peter are playing happy families, but I don’t mind. I squint and see that Peter’s trying to change Annie’s nappy, and I smile to myself. Probably the first one he’s changed of hers.

  ‘Bet you’ve never changed a nappy, Nathan.’

  He swivels around too, straw in his mouth.

  ‘Hardly the most attractive of bets, Debs.’ He pulls his sunglasses over his eyes. ‘And no, I haven’t. I’ve never seen myself with children. I mean, I know I have Leo and everything, but it’s not the same. Not when her arsehole ex is ringing up all the time.’

  ‘He’s hardly an arsehole. He works at the Gas Board … or is it the Water Board? Nothing’ll be a Board soon, the way things are going. Bloody Thatcher privatising everything …’

  ‘Steady on, Debs. No need to get political – we’re on holiday.’

  ‘It’s Ellen,’ I say to Nathan, as subtly as I can.

  ‘Why are you talking with your mouth closed?’ he shouts, as loud as he can.

  ‘Because she’s right—’

  ‘Hello, Debbie! You haven’t met my Alan, have you?’

  I shake my head, but the straw’s still in my mouth. I clear my throat and sit up straighter. I’ve got to look more grown-up.

  Ellen’s wearing a Hawaiian-print sarong, tied around the waist, and a bikini with cups that look like actual giant shells. Someone get that woman a Piña Colada. Nathan lifts his sunglasses, squints and puts them back on again.

  Luckily, Ellen doesn’t take offence; she’s staring at him, tilting her head to the side.

  Her face changes when she looks up and sees where her husband’s eyes are; they’re on the front of my swimming costume. Oh God.

  Alan squeezes past Ellen and holds out his hand to me. His dyed-black hair is gelled back, and he’s wearing the smallest swimming trunks I’ve ever seen. I try not to look at them, but he’s got his other hand on his hip.

  They must holiday often, as both have skin the colour of cinnamon. I must start wearing sunscreen; Ellen looks older with fewer clothes on.

  I shake her husband’s hand and it’s slick with sweat.

  ‘So this is the delightful new friend you’ve been talking about, Ellen.’

  She looks up to the sky. ‘Can’t you stop it, Alan, just this once.’

  ‘You’ve just had a baby, eh?’ he says. ‘Nice and ripe, then?’ He laughs.

  I think I’m going to be sick.

  ‘What did you just say?’ Nathan places his drink on the bar behind him. ‘You can’t talk to a woman like that.’

  Alan raises both palms. ‘I didn’t mean any harm. Ellen’ll tell you what I’m like … a bit of a joker.’

  ‘Bit of a wanker, more like.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  Ellen stands between Nathan and Alan. ‘We must get going,’ she says. ‘I’d say let’s meet up for a drink later, but I don’t think you’d want to.’

  Nathan stands, too.

  ‘Course we should.’ He lowers himself to Ellen’s height. ‘We can’t have you isolated because of him.’

  Ellen beams at him.

  Typical. Everyone falls for his charm.

  ‘That’d be great,’ she says.

  Nathan turns to the bar as they walk away.

  ‘I think I’ve just sobered up,’ I say.

  I’m still facing the pool when Ellen turns and walks back towards me, her flip-flops slapping her heels.

  She puts her head close to mine. I smile – thinking she’s going to say how kind Nathan is.

  ‘You won’t do anything about it, will you?’ she says.

  ‘About what?’

  I look to Nathan, willing him to see this exchange, but he’s talking to the barman.

  ‘I’ve seen it before with women like you,’ she hisses. ‘Pretending you’re everyone’s friend and then stealing their husbands from under their noses. I’ve seen the way you look at my husband.’

  I smile at her. Has she been drinking too? I kick Nathan’s ankle, but he doesn’t look up.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I say. ‘I’ve just had a baby. I’ve never stolen anyone’s husband in my life.’

  ‘I saw what you did just then – playing footsie with Nathan. They might not be happy together, but that’s no reason to go stealing him in front of everyone.’

  ‘What are you talking about, not happy? I’m not trying to steal him.’ I slide down from my stool. ‘And you’re not invited later after all. You’re talking crazy.’

  She grabs me by the elbow.

  ‘Oh, I’m the crazy one, am I? Not what your friend over there, holding your baby, said last night.’

  She walks off as calmly as she walked over.

  ‘Did you hear what that woman just said?’ I say to Nathan.

  I turn to him, but he’s already standing next to me.

  ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Yes, I did. That is one weird bitch. We’ve been transported to the set of EastEnders.’ He passes me another drink. ‘Get that down you. We’ll not have those two with us for drinks tonight.’

  I take too big a sip, and some of the cocktail slips out the sides of my mouth.

  ‘Nathan,’ I say, grabbing a napkin and wiping my face. ‘You shouldn’t call women bitche
s.’

  He laughs and shakes his head at me.

  ‘You’re one of a kind, Debs. I’ll tell you that for free.’

  I’ll tell you that for free. It’s a phrase my dad uses all the time. I’ve a sudden pang to be with him and my mum right now. I’ve never had a confrontation like that before. My shoulders are tense and my stomach is churning.

  I feel out of my depth here.

  It’s four o’clock and the pool is half empty. The cocktails are starting to wear off.

  ‘Why don’t you go in the pool now, Debs?’ says Monica. ‘There’s a spare lilo over there.’

  I pick up her Pimms and lemonade, and down it in one.

  ‘Easy, tiger,’ she says, laughing. ‘You’ll drown if you have any more.’

  I stand and stretch, leaving my arms out beside me, enjoying the sun on my face. Annie’s on a blanket under a parasol, staring at the logo. I take off my shorts.

  ‘I’ll take Annie with me,’ I say, picking my baby up. ‘I read in a magazine once that babies can swim.’

  Monica sits up quickly; for a moment, I see two of her. She holds up her hand and shields her eyes.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘Have a break. I’ll look after her.’

  ‘Get off. She’s mine. I can do what I want with her.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’

  I wait for her to say something else, but she doesn’t. She’s moving from side to side. Or is that me?

  I kick off my flip-flops and walk over to the steps leading to the shallow end. The water feels deliciously cool against my scorched skin. I’ve been missing out on this feeling for days. Yeah, sod what everyone else thinks. Dad says that people are far too bothered about themselves to worry about what I’m doing.

  I glance at a woman in her sixties sitting on a plastic chair beside the pool. She’s resting her elbows on parted knees, smoking; her skin’s like leather.

  It’s observations like those that make me realise what Dad says is rubbish. I judge people all the time.

  No, no. Stop thinking.

  Stop thinking, and start doing.

  Another of my father’s phrases.

  I drag the lilo towards me and hold the bar at the side of the pool as I sit in the middle, causing it to sag.

  I’m a whale.

  But I don’t care right now. I hold Annie close to my chest and it takes a few seconds to balance before I lay my head on the soft inflatable pillow. I kick the side of the pool, and Annie and I float away.

  ‘Isn’t the sky beautiful, little one?’

  There are a few fluffy clouds. I turn Annie on her side, so she can look at the water.

  She’s so beautiful and she came from inside me. How is that even possible? Everything is so new to her. What must that be like? To wipe everything clean and start again.

  ‘You’re perfect, Annie.’

  I stroke her downy hair, skimming over the patches of cradle cap. A breeze wafts over us and a plane flies above, leaving its cottony trail in the sky.

  ‘They’re off on an adventure,’ I say. ‘Or going home.’

  Just saying the word home feels strange – it seems so very far away.

  Annie sighs noisily; it’s the sweetest sound.

  Right now, I am happy. I take in the image of the blue sky and my baby, and close my eyes.

  This might be the best I’m ever going to feel.

  Sprays of cold water are on my face.

  Someone’s shaking me.

  I’m under water and I take a short breath by mistake.

  My feet land on solid ground. I cough out the water from the back of my throat.

  Peter’s in the pool, standing. He’s pulling Annie out from the water.

  ‘What the fuck, Debbie?’

  He holds the baby up. She blinks the water from her eyes before letting out a piercing scream.

  ‘What happened?’ I say.

  ‘You fell asleep. Jesus fucking Christ. You feel asleep with the baby on you. You—’ He cradles the baby into his torso. ‘There, there. Thank God you’re okay, Anna.’ He turns his head. ‘She could’ve fucking drowned, Debbie. You’re a fucking liability.’

  Peter strides towards the steps and hands my baby to Monica, who’s standing at the side – tears streaming down her face.

  My feet won’t move. What have I done? Peter’s words register in my mind. She must’ve slipped from my chest. I thought I was holding her tight, but I haven’t slept properly in weeks. I should be running towards her, shouldn’t I? Making sure she’s okay.

  I feel numb, yet I can feel warm tears on my hot skin. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I look down, but I can’t see the pounding that’s coming from my chest. I feel the pulse on my wrist, yet it’s the same as normal.

  Why am I just standing here?

  Annie’s screams echo around the whole poolside. I wade across to the steps and climb them.

  I’m not here any more. My body is doing everything for me. I just have to put one step in front of the other and I’ll be with my family.

  The ground is hard beneath my feet. People are staring at me. I can’t let their gaze affect me or it’ll consume me.

  I reach them at the sun loungers. Annie’s still crying. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?

  I kneel at Peter’s feet.

  ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.’

  He looks to the side before looking me in the eye.

  ‘It’s just as well Monica was watching you both.’

  A hand grips my arm.

  ‘I should’ve stopped you going in,’ says Monica. ‘It’s my fault. You were in no fit state.’

  No fit state.

  ‘Calm down, everyone,’ says Nathan. ‘Debs fell asleep. It’s hardly the crime of the century. Everything’s okay. The baby’s fine. Let’s just forget it happened, eh?’

  Everyone looks up at him. I want what he said to be true. I want everyone to forget. I want to forget.

  ‘Where’s Bobby?’ I say.

  Peter frowns. ‘He went to the kids’ club three hours ago.’

  Monica places a hand on his. Her hands get everywhere. She gets everywhere. Where does she get the energy to be so bothered about other people?

  She turns to me.

  ‘Don’t worry, Debs. It could happen to anyone. It probably happens all the time.’

  I look up at Nathan, and he rolls his eyes.

  ‘Nothing happened. The baby was in the water for two seconds, tops. Give Debs a break, for God’s sake.’

  I catch the briefest of glances between Peter and Monica. There’s something there I’ve not seen before. They’re ashamed of me. I’m a liability, like Peter said I was. I don’t know what to do right now. I need someone to tell me the rules of everything.

  Monica picks up a towel and wraps it around my shoulders. It’s damp and feels too hot on my skin.

  Annie stops crying when Peter puts a dummy in her mouth.

  ‘Where did you get that from?’ I say. ‘Bobby never needed a dummy. I don’t want Annie to have one.’

  ‘It was easier. She’s been grizzly all day,’ says Peter. ‘And thank God I introduced it.’

  Monica rubs my shoulders.

  ‘It’s all right now – Annie’s fine. She’ll not remember it anyway.’

  Peter sits on a plastic chair next to me.

  ‘I’m sorry, Peter. I’ve been so tired since she was born. I shouldn’t have taken her with me in the pool. I’ll not make that mistake again. I’m never going in a swimming pool again.’

  His shoulders raise as he takes a deep breath in.

  ‘Okay.’ He won’t meet my eyes. ‘I’m sorry for swearing at you. I panicked.’

  Monica stands and clasps her hands together like a Blue Peter presenter.

  ‘It’s half past four. Why don’t we head back to the apartment to get ready for tonight’s barbecue?’

  ‘Good plan,’ says Nathan.

  Monica holds out her hand to him, but he holds his hand out to me.

/>   ‘Come on, Debs. Let’s get you inside.’

  My eyes flit between them both.

  Monica drops her hand and shrugs.

  ‘I suppose she’s the one who needs looking after.’

  She mutters something at the end of the sentence, but I don’t quite catch it. It sounded like as usual.

  Peter gets up and walks away; Monica follows close behind. She briefly rubs the part of his back between the shoulder blades.

  I look up to Nathan. He’s still holding out his hand, so I take it.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Anna

  As I stand outside Dad’s house to collect Sophie, Ellen’s words still ring in my ears. After she said those four words – Because I killed someone – I didn’t know what to say to her. I’ve never knowingly met a murderer. I’d often wondered what questions I would ask if I discovered her crime, but in reality, I asked nothing. We were alone in the bookshop. What if she said that it was a random murder, someone who pissed her off?

  A customer had come in, breaking the few minutes’ silence.

  ‘I’ll tell you about it another time,’ Ellen said, retreating to the back room.

  That time didn’t come. Instead, I texted Sally Munroe with Ellen’s full name and date of birth, in the hope she will be able to find out more than my failed searches on Google. That’s if the information on her CV is correct.

  Monica opens the door.

  ‘You look better than this morning,’ I say, stepping inside, realising I should’ve called during the day to check on Sophie. ‘Are you okay now?’

  ‘I suppose. I guess I have good days and bad.’ She holds the handle of the living-room door and hesitates. ‘I loved your mother, you know. She was like a sister to me. I would’ve done anything for her.’

  ‘I know. You’ve said before.’

  Her mouth drops open, her shoulders sag.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to snap.’

  But she keeps doing that – blurting out that she loved my mother, talking about her in the past tense. These past few days, Monica has given up pretending to be cheerful. She has never admitted to having bad days before.

  Dad and Sophie cheer in the living room.

  ‘Your dad brought down his old computer games.’ Monica moves her hand from the door and beckons me to follow her to the kitchen. ‘Though game might be stretching it a little – it’s basically a dot going from side to side on the television.’