by Karen Clarke
When Petra had graciously introduced us – Hey, everyone, say hi to Sophy Pemberton and Finn from number seven – there’d been a cacophony of hellos accompanied by friendly waves, but I’d instantly forgotten everyone’s name. Things were foggy at the moment and my head felt stuffed with cotton wool. I was permanently exhausted because Finn wouldn’t settle – though sometimes it felt like more than normal exhaustion. A tiredness I couldn’t seem to fight, even after sleeping for hours.
‘How are you enjoying living on The Avenue?’ Although one of Kim’s big freckled hands stroked her son’s blond hair as he chewed the plastic keys, she fixed her rather piggy dark eyes on me.
‘Oh, it’s lovely, thank you.’ I watched Finn as I eased off the coat Dom had bought for my birthday, which no longer buttoned up. The baby weight around my middle refused to shift, even though some days I forgot to eat. ‘Dom, my husband, wanted us to get out of London and thought it would be an excellent place to raise a family,’ I added, aware Kim was waiting for more, certain Elizabeth had already told her all this. I folded my hands in my lap to hide a slight tremor. ‘His grandparents were born around here and his parents live nearby.’ I didn’t mention that The Avenue had struck me like a street from a film set – not quite real, too perfect – knowing since having Finn, my reactions were off and my instincts not to be trusted.
‘He’s very handsome.’ Kim gave what I supposed she thought was a cheeky smile that made her look slightly unhinged. ‘We saw him walking you down.’
Walking you down. Making sure we went in, more like. That I didn’t run back to the sanctuary of my bed, as I often did once he’d left for work and my mother-in-law had taken charge of Finn.
As Kim said we, a woman standing by the sofa, balancing a little blonde-haired girl on one hip, caught my eye. For a second, I felt panicky at the thought of meeting another mother. Heat pricked down my back and I felt a spinning sensation. The room was too warm, too noisy, Kim’s perfume too strong.
I stood up and looked around. Petra had asked us to remove our footwear at the door and I felt exposed, too short without my heeled black boots, but before I could move, the woman stuck out one arm.
‘Hey, I’m Liv … Olivia Granger,’ she said. ‘Nice to meet you, Sophy.’
My palms felt clammy. I wiped them on my too-tight jeans before taking her hand. ‘You too.’
Her fingers were cold and gripped too tightly. She was a few inches taller than me and closer to my age – thirty-two – than most of the other mums. Strikingly pretty, with wavy dark hair cut just below her jaw. Her wide-apart grey eyes studied me with unusual intensity; she was probably wondering what someone like me had in common with the rest of them.
‘This is Evie.’ Letting go of my fingers at last, she jiggled her little girl and smoothed a strand of hair off her forehead. ‘Say hello, Evie.’
Her voice sounded stilted and I realised that she felt as out of place as I did in the overheated room. As I opened my mouth to respond, Kim broke in once more.
‘So, what does your husband do?’
Not what do you do? Maybe it was obvious I could barely look after my baby, let alone hold down a job.
‘Dom? He works for Apex TV, where I worked too.’ I bent to scoop Finn up. When I straightened, Olivia had turned and was showing a beaming Evie something through the window. ‘As an account executive,’ I clarified, seeing Kim’s eyebrows shoot up. People got excited when I mentioned working in television. Though she must know this already if she’d been talking to Elizabeth. ‘He generates revenue, develops business contacts, assists company growth – that sort of thing.’
Kim rearranged her expression. ‘It must pay well.’ It was a crass thing to say, even if it was true. And we lived in St Albans, in an area where houses were eye-wateringly expensive, so it was pointless denying it. ‘He doesn’t mind commuting every day?’
‘No,’ I said shortly. I didn’t add, He’s happy to get out of the house.
I wished I could too. Not here, though. If only Dom hadn’t paid the extortionate ‘term’ fee. Ridiculous, really. And elitist. Petra clearly didn’t need the money.
It’s worth it, Dom had said, even though he’d looked shocked by the charge. It’ll be good for you to meet other mothers and good for Finn. If you click, we can invite people round for dinner.
The first and last time we’d had guests hadn’t been a roaring success. Dom invited a couple from Lavender Drive to eat with us, not long after we moved in, after bumping into the husband at the station. I’d been too tired to cook and when I confessed we’d ordered the food in, the wife – Clare – had looked at me with disdain, even as her husband, Gary, shovelled it in.
‘I worked there too,’ I heard myself say to Kim. ‘At the TV station, I mean. I was a researcher on Back in the Day, the history series?’ I hated myself for wanting to impress her. ‘It won an award for best factual programme two years ago.’
Kim’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’ I wasn’t sure whether I felt flattered or offended by her obvious surprise. ‘Not really my thing,’ she said with a wince. ‘I prefer house makeover shows, or nature documentaries.’
I felt myself deflate and simply nodded.
After another interminable half hour, listening to Kim talk about her holiday home, followed by a boisterous sing-song that made Finn cry, I noticed Olivia manoeuvring Evie into a pushchair by the door, something pink and fluffy thrown over the shoulder of her thin coat.
As she pushed her feet into a pair of sneakers, I pressed Finn to my shoulder and grabbed our things, nodding vaguely when Kim suggested a playdate for Finn and Dougie, as I joined Olivia at the door.
‘Are you doing anything, now?’ I said, when all I’d intended was to get away.
Olivia looked startled. Close up, she seemed younger. There was something vulnerable in her face before a shutter came down. ‘Now?’ she echoed, straightening, one hand in the small of her back as though it ached.
‘I wondered whether you’d like to have lunch with us?’ I hadn’t tidied the house, but somehow knew Olivia wouldn’t mind. ‘If you’re not busy,’ I added, my cheeks exploding with heat. I was badly out of practice at making friends.
Olivia’s face was blank but I sensed her mind was working. In the pushchair, Evie wriggled and Olivia handed her a curly-eared teddy bear. Finn twisted in my arms and looked at Evie. She caught his eye and grew still, hugging her bear.
‘She loves her teddy,’ I said, to break the awkward silence. ‘Finn has a cat he loves at the moment, though it doesn’t—’
‘About lunch,’ Olivia cut in. Her eyes met mine so I felt pinned down. ‘Maybe another time.’
Chapter 3
Liv
Sophy certainly didn’t fit in with the rest of the mums, and seemed to see me as some kind of ally, a possible friend. I wanted to laugh. She’d picked the wrong person. We could never be friends. But I was so glad she’d approached me – she’d saved me no end of work.
‘In fact,’ I said, throwing her my best smile. ‘How about Friday? Say one o’clock at The Busy Bean.’ It was a café on the High Street.
‘I’d like that,’ she said, far too grateful – but there was something else. Fear? Doubt? Anxiety? ‘Or maybe you could come to mine for lunch?’
She didn’t like going out. Kim had said she wasn’t coping. This was even more perfect.
‘I live at number seven.’ She nodded down the road.
I know. ‘Sounds great,’ I said – a chance to get inside your house.
‘Lovely,’ she called, as I headed away.
As the other mums started to come out of Petra’s gate, clustering together, gossiping, I melted into a crop of trees nearby and watched Sophy make her way down The Avenue. Eventually, I moved out and followed.
She didn’t see me behind her, seemed keen to get home. Taking quick strides; her boots clipping the pavement. I’d always found The Avenue claustrophobic, with its trees uniform in size and shape, equally spaced, its houses tall
and oppressive, most half-hidden from view behind walls and immaculate hedges.
By the time I reached Sophy’s house, she was slamming the heavy oak door. My eyes skittered across the bay-fronted window, the ivy climbing the walls. You don’t deserve this, Sophy Edwards. I will take it all from you, like you took my brother from me.
By the time I reached Lavender Drive with its six double-fronted detached houses, Evie was sleeping.
Gary’s white BMW saloon was parked on the drive next to my Mini, but there was no sign of Clare’s Audi TT. I hated it when Gary was home alone. He may have been Evie’s father, but he was a total creep. Only last week he brushed his hand against my thigh. It was no accident. He even called me a tease, when I shoved him away. Said I’d led him on in the park. It was true that I may have flirted a tiny bit to get the position, but I was broke, and needed a job as much as I needed to get close to Sophy.
I pushed the buggy around the curve in the pavement and onto the path. Gary was standing in the window, as though waiting for me. He raised his hand in a wave, but I ignored him and picked up speed, heading towards the front door.
Once inside, I took off my jacket and trainers, and bent to wrestle a waking Evie from the pushchair.
‘How’s my little angel?’ Gary said, coming up behind me. He was shorter than me, with cropped white-blond hair, and a round, pale face; piercing blue eyes his only attractive feature. ‘Here, let me take her.’ He held out his arms.
‘Go to your daddy, sweetie,’ I said, handing her to him.
‘This thing is hardly suitable,’ he said, shuffling her from the coat I’d put on her that morning. ‘Her pink duffel would have been better.’
‘I hadn’t realised it would turn chilly. It looked bright first thing.’ I went to move past him, and he leant forward and touched my cheek. I startled.
‘It’s OK, Liv. I don’t bite.’ I hated that he called me Liv, when I’d introduced myself as Olivia. It was as though he could see right through me. Knew who I really was. He adjusted Evie in his arms. I couldn’t believe he would make a pass in front of his daughter. ‘Your cheeks look pink, that’s all.’
I felt a familiar surge of panic as I wondered what was going through his mind. ‘I hadn’t realised you were working from home today.’
He smiled. ‘Any chance I can get these days.’ He’d started a social media company ten years ago, which was bought out by one of the giants five years later for a stupid amount of money. Now he owned IT companies in London and Italy, and spent much of his time travelling between both, unless he was working from home. I hated that he was there.
I moved past him and into the kitchen. And trying to keep things civil, said, ‘Coffee?’
‘Sounds good.’ He followed me and slipped his daughter into her highchair. We both reached for the kettle, and he pressed his body against mine.
‘Where’s Clare?’ I said, wiggling free.
‘Shopping.’ He moved closer. ‘She’s always shopping. You know that, Liv.’
‘You have to stop this, Gary. I will tell her.’ I hated the tremble in my voice.
He laughed. ‘You need the money, Liv. Even I can see that.’ He eyed me up and down, focused on the hole in my sock. ‘And you’re a crap nanny – you’d never get a job anywhere else.’
Anger bubbled. I was a good nanny. Evie loved me.
Gary stared, as though waiting for me to respond. His breath reeked of coffee and cigarettes. Though he never smoked in the house – Clare wouldn’t allow it.
The front door opened, and the tension in my shoulders lifted. Clare. Thank God. She bustled into the kitchen with three expensive-looking carrier bags, dropping them on the kitchen table. She hurried to Evie, planted a lipstick kiss on her cheek. ‘So how was Mums Meet Up?’ she said, aiming the question at me, as she took off her tartan coat.
‘Fine.’
‘Fine?’
‘Yes.’ I grabbed the kettle and began filling it. ‘Would you like some coffee? I was about to make some.’
‘Please. So did you see Petra?’
‘Mmm.’ I flicked on the kettle, and pulled out three mugs, and Gary took two steps back and leant against the worktop.
‘How is she?’ Clare flicked her hair behind her ears. ‘I really must catch up with her soon.’
‘She seemed OK.’ Truth was I hadn’t spoken to the woman. ‘Sophy Ed … Pemberton was there.’
‘Well that’s a turn-up.’ Clare widened her hazel eyes. ‘Did you speak to her?’
‘Yes, I’m going to meet up with her on Friday.’
‘Well good luck with that. She’s a bit of a strange one, isn’t she, Gary?’ She didn’t wait for a reply, simply turned her attention once again to Evie. ‘So did you enjoy it, my little cutie-pie?’ Evie’s chin crinkled and she burst into tears. Clare turned back to me. ‘Whatever’s the matter with her, Olivia?’
I looked around, spotted her teddy bear. ‘Here you go, sweetie,’ I said, picking it up and handing it to the child, who, at the sight of her favourite bear stopped crying.
I spooned coffee into the mugs. ‘Listen, I’ll make these, and take her up to the nursery. Read her a story. She might be tired after a busy morning.’
I filled Evie’s cup with juice. ‘Here you go, little one,’ I said, and she took the mug and guzzled back the juice, her bear snuggled against her ear. I stood between Gary and Clare, waiting for the water in the kettle to reach a crescendo, while they conducted a terse conversation over my head about their plans that evening.
Once I’d made the drinks, I tugged Evie from the highchair and made my way upstairs. I would be OK now Clare was home. Gary kept his distance when she was around.
Once in the nursery – a stunning room with three lemon-painted walls, and a mural of an enchanted forest on the far wall – I set Evie’s musical box going, changed her nappy, and lowered myself into the white rocking chair, with Evie in my arms. As I began reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar, her eyelids grew heavy. Once she’d dropped off to sleep, I placed her gently in her cot, and covered her with a blanket.
From the window, I took in the long, rambling garden, eyes falling on my nanny pad tucked away at the bottom, almost out of sight, as though Gary and Clare didn’t want a reminder that someone else cared for their daughter. The sky had clouded over, and light rain speckled the window, and my thoughts drifted to my mother. Should I tell her I was going out to lunch with Ben’s ex-girlfriend? Should I tell her I was about to get revenge for all of us?
Chapter 4
Sophy
As I settled Finn into his highchair ready for lunch, I allowed myself a glimmer of positivity. I’d got out of the house, spoken to people – listened, at least – and even extended an invitation to lunch without so much as a yawn. It was more than I’d managed in ages. I imagined telling Dom about it later, over dinner. Maybe I’d cook this evening.
I recalled the look on Olivia’s face when she accepted my invitation. An initial moment of doubt had been banished by a friendly smile that lifted her face, transforming her into someone beautiful. But as I imagined her in the house, flatness descended, as if my batteries had drained. It was often like this: a surge of optimism, before reality hit and I realised I wasn’t quite ready to change my life.
Finn smacked his pudgy fists on the tray of his highchair, his eyebrows raised as if curious about why I was standing in the middle of our high-ceilinged living room, staring unseeingly in the gilt-framed mirror above the stone fireplace where the log burner squatted. I should get the fire going but the central heating was on and the house felt warm and cosy. Our dream house, with Farrow and Ball paint on the walls and contemporary, co-ordinating furnishings. Dom’s sister Natasha was an interior designer who’d relished the opportunity to turn our four-bedroomed Victorian house into a stylish home, though it didn’t look particularly stylish with Finn’s toys scattered around and a heap of laundry in the armchair by the window. At least the laundry was clean.
I turned away from a f
ramed picture hanging by the window – a professional family portrait taken at Dom’s parents’ home at Elizabeth’s insistence when Finn was twelve weeks old, and I was still sleep-deprived and weepy – and I looked at my wedding photo instead. My red hair had been pulled back in a chignon, revealing my narrow nose, freckled cheeks and pale green eyes. I looked solemn, as I tended to in photos, but relaxed, certain of my place in the world. Beside me, Dom was tall and handsome, a softness to his smile, a summer tan emphasising his blue eyes and long, dark lashes.
We’d been set up by a friend of his who used to work in production at Apex TV and thought I’d be a good match for Dom – the sort of person he’d described wanting to settle down with, but never seemed to meet – and after a dry spell, where I’d focused on work instead of men, Dom had seemed perfect. I’d seen him around at work, and my heart flipped when he waited for me to leave the building one day and suggested a drink. He was attractive but unassuming, unaware of the effect he was having, and I’d liked that. I also liked that, despite his family background, he wasn’t too interested in material things, happy living in the same exposed-brick-and-beam warehouse apartment he’d rented for years, overlooking the Tower of London and close to his favourite pub, The Dickens Inn, though he told me his mother disapproved and thought he should ‘upgrade’.
That was four years ago. He’d certainly upgraded now. Shame he wasn’t happier, but that was my fault. He loved his son with all his heart, but I wasn’t the same person I’d been before having Finn. Maybe I never would be.
Another bash of the highchair tray, followed by a sound that might be Mumma, brought me back to the moment. ‘What do you fancy for lunch today, sir?’ I adopted a cheery tone because my biggest fear was infecting Finn with whatever had me in its grip. Not depression exactly – not anymore – but a bone-deep exhaustion and occasional forgetfulness that I couldn’t seem to shake. ‘Maybe a nice lamb casserole?’ I felt guilty Finn’s lunch would be out of a jar, albeit organic, and resolved yet again to start cooking from scratch, like my mother-in-law had for her children when they were babies. She’d offered to help but I knew if I let her, I’d never get around to doing it myself. ‘Macaroni cheese?’