Luke gets up to open another bottle. He looks uncomfortable, embarrassed, possibly annoyed. Cassie is still looking at me. ‘I know what I said, Leah,’ she says quietly. ‘I was determined, and I did plan to do it alone because I’d lost my husband, and because Oliver’s father—’ She shoots a quick glance at Luke, and I wonder how much she’s told him. ‘Oliver’s father was a fling. He meant nothing to me.’
Her words sting, though God knows why, because it’s not as if I want Adrian to have meant anything to her, but I still don’t like to hear him dismissed, as if he was just some anonymous guy she picked up for the purpose of using his seed.
‘I meant what I said,’ Cass continues. ‘But I didn’t mean I was determined to raise him to adulthood entirely on my own, no matter what happened or who I met in the future. And now I’ve met Luke, and we’re happy, and we can make a proper family for Ollie. Do you see what I mean?’
I nod. ‘Of course.’ I find I’m biting my thumbnail, so I put my hand in my lap. Luke pours us all more wine. ‘And Ollie . . . Ollie’s okay about this?’ Maybe I shouldn’t even be asking, but surely they can’t expect me not to be concerned.
‘He’s totally fine about it,’ Cass says. ‘He adores Luke.’ They smile at each other again and I feel a pang of envy. ‘Be happy for me, Leah,’ Cass says, her face sadder and more serious than I’ve ever seen it.
‘I am happy for you,’ I say. ‘Really. I say things without thinking sometimes, and . . .’ I shrug. ‘I’m sorry. Anyway, I’m happy as long as you and Ollie are happy.’
‘In fact,’ Luke says, ‘Ollie’s quite excited. He can’t wait until we—’
Cassie touches his arm. ‘There’s something else I wanted to mention,’ she says, ‘before I forget.’
My heart starts to thump, because I doubt I’m going to like what I hear next.
‘I . . . Oh God, I hate anything like this, so I’m just going to come out and say it. I’m going to have to give up the cleaning job.’ She glances at Luke again. ‘I don’t mind doing the next couple of weeks, give you a chance to find—’
‘But . . . you can’t stop completely, surely? What if you came every two weeks instead?’
‘No,’ Luke says. ‘Cass has been working too hard for a long time, but she doesn’t need to do two different jobs now.’
‘But when will I see . . . I mean, I’ve got used to . . . to us having coffee and a chat, and Ollie enjoys it, too. He likes playing with Spider, and there are all his toys and things and—’
‘Yes,’ Luke says. ‘We wanted a word about that, as it happens.’
I notice Cassie touching his arm again and giving a tiny flick of her head, as if warning him. ‘No, Cass,’ Luke says. ‘We might as well tell her now, give her time to get used to it.’
‘Tell me what? What do I need time to get used to?’
Cassie sighs. ‘We’re moving.’
‘Moving?’ I parrot like an idiot. It takes a moment to sink in. ‘You’re moving house? Where? When?’
‘Oh, not immediately,’ Cassie says. ‘A few weeks, at least, but we want to be settled before Ollie starts big school.’
‘Cornwall,’ Luke says while Cassie’s still speaking. ‘We’ve had an offer accepted on a little house in Boscastle, near to Cassie’s parents and not that far from the sea.’
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
THEN
It was the third night in a row that I hadn’t been able to sleep. I sat up and leaned over the side of the moses basket.
‘Leah? What are you doing?’ Adrian propped himself up on one elbow. ‘Is she all right?’
‘Yes, I think so. She keeps going quiet. I was just checking she’s still breathing.’
‘I know you’re anxious,’ he sighed, ‘but I honestly don’t think there’s any need. The health visitor said everything’s fine, didn’t she? Come on, lie down and get some sleep.’
I tried to relax, but it felt as if all my nerve endings were twitching. He was soon snoring softly, and I could hear Harriet’s little snuffles, so I should have been able to sleep, but I couldn’t switch off for some reason. Then the curtain moved – the window was open. I jumped out of bed and went to close it. It was mild for March, and I knew Harriet needed fresh air, but I’d rather take her outside so she could see the trees at the same time. What Adrian didn’t seem to understand was that it meant the crows could get in. If I told him I was worried, he’d say I was being silly, but the other day, while I was ironing, that big crow was there again on the terrace, looking in at me. I mentioned to Adrian that I’d wondered whether it might be the mother of the baby crow I ran over, but he looked at me as if I was barking mad. He said I should tell the doctor I was having ‘strange thoughts’, so I pretended I wasn’t serious. I suppose it does sound a bit bonkers when you think about it, but if he was here all day like I was, if he could see the way that creature looked at me . . . It made me realise that I needed to be careful what I told him. I used to think that Adrian understood me perfectly, that he and I were the other half of each other. But now I knew that it was Harriet who was the other half of me, and sometimes I wondered if Adrian was jealous.
I climbed back into bed, and now I knew the window was closed and we were all safe, I managed to drift off. Soon I was dreaming about them again. I knew I was dreaming this time, but I couldn’t control what was happening. I was back in hospital and the crows were my family, crowding round my bed, smiling and friendly, cooing and cawing over Harriet. Then I noticed one that wasn’t smiling. It gripped my arm with its wing and started shaking me, then it put its big, black beak right up to my face and said my name. ‘Leah, Leah.’ I knew this was definitely the mother crow. I tried to tell her it was an accident, that I didn’t see her helpless baby falling into the road, but I couldn’t make any sound come out of my mouth. I told myself I was dreaming, that I just needed to open my eyes and the dream would melt away. But the crow-mother spread her big dark wings and opened her beak and screamed right at me, blaming me still.
When I opened my eyes, Adrian was stroking my hair, his face close to mine. ‘Leah,’ he whispered, gently shaking my arm. ‘Leah, wake up. You’re having a bad dream. It’s all right now. Everything’s all right. Are you okay?’
‘What?’ My heart was racing as I forced myself properly awake. ‘Oh, oh yes, I’m fine. Just another bad dream, that’s all.’ He kissed my forehead and turned over again. I leaned over to check on Harriet, to make sure she was still there, still breathing, still safe. She was lying on her back, wide awake and looking right at me. I dipped my hand over the side of the bed so it could rest gently on her stomach. Once Adrian was breathing deep and steady, I slid out of bed and tiptoed across to take my dressing gown from the back of the door. I slipped it on and lifted Harriet out of the moses basket, grabbing a shawl to wrap around her. We went up to the attic, where I settled in the rocking chair by the dormer window so we could watch the sun rise. The birds started up while it was still dark, the crows loudest, as usual, and before long, the sun peeped up over the black treetops, turning the sky pink and yellow and orange. I could see three crows settled in the branches of the plane tree and silhouetted against the fiery sky, and I remembered my dream with a little shudder.
As I watched, more of them settled in the tree, adding to the deafening racket. They were all facing this way, towards the house, and their deep cawing seemed to be aimed just at me. I watched, mesmerised, until suddenly I knew they were trying to give me a message. I couldn’t work out what it was, but I was sure it was something to do with Adrian, because now I came to think about it, he’d started watching me all the time. Perhaps they were trying to warn me. I looked down at Harriet as she fed and I saw that she knew something, too, and I knew she was trying to communicate it to me because instead of having her eyes closed as usual, they were wide open, and in each one I could see a tiny black crow shining back.
I finished feeding her and sat her up, my hand cupping her chin so I could gently pat her back to bring up he
r wind. She did a little burp and regurgitated some milk, then she turned her wobbly head towards me and looked right at me. She said – not in the outside way, not in actual words, but quite distinctly nevertheless – Be on your guard, Cornelia. Be careful who you trust.
Adrian was upstairs, packing for the Learning and Technology conference. It didn’t start until tomorrow, but we’d agreed it would be sensible for him to travel up tonight rather than risk a broken night with Harriet and then have to get up at five thirty. As usual, he was rushing about as if he was in a hurry, and as he clattered down the stairs, he knocked over the pile of washing I’d put there ready to go up. He picked it up but he shoved it back on the stair in a haphazard pile, so I’d have to fold it all again. Harriet was fractious this evening, grizzly. I tried to feed her but she pulled away. Maybe the sounds of Adrian getting ready to leave were bothering her, too. I’d told him I’d be fine while he was away, but I suppose I was a bit apprehensive about being on my own with her for four days.
‘Have you seen my wallet?’ he shouted from the kitchen. ‘I thought I’d left it on the dresser.’
‘In the dining room. On the table.’
‘Oh, thanks.’ The glasses in the cupboard rattled as he stomped across the dining room floor. A few minutes later, he came into the sitting room, keys in one hand, laptop in the other. ‘Right, sure you’ll be okay?’
Like I could say no. ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll be fine.’
He wanted to be out of here, away from Harriet’s endless crying, my endless tiredness. He leaned over and kissed Harriet’s head, then he kissed me quickly on the lips, then a second time, more lingeringly. ‘Make sure you do what the health visitor told you,’ he said. ‘Sleep when the baby sleeps.’
I nodded. ‘I’ll try.’ It sounded sensible in theory, but she rarely slept for more than an hour and even then, when she was asleep was the only chance I had to take a shower or have something to eat, never mind all the other stuff that needed doing.
‘It’ll be too late to call when I get there, but I’ll phone tomorrow, okay?’ He kissed me again, then headed to the door.
Amazingly, Harriet dropped off to sleep in my arms. After Adrian’s noisy departure, the silence in the house was more noticeable. I was used to being alone with Harriet during the day, but on the rare occasions she was quiet, there was always some other sound – birds in the garden, next door’s car crunching the gravel on the drive. It was odd for it to be so still and quiet in the evening.
I took her upstairs and put her in the moses basket and still she didn’t wake. I should have followed the advice and got some sleep before the inevitable crying session later. I knew the continued lack of sleep was doing funny things to my head, but it wasn’t yet nine and the idea of having some time to myself was appealing. Maybe things were slowly improving, because I definitely hadn’t felt quite as strange for the last couple of days. I told Adrian I’d been feeling a bit weird, but I didn’t give him details. He wanted me to talk to the doctor or health visitor, but there was no way I was telling them – or him – that my baby spoke to me, and that I thought the crows had talked to me as well. They’d think I was crazy. It even seemed a bit mad to me now, but it didn’t at the time.
I considered going to bed. I undressed, put my pyjamas on and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth, but as I padded back into the bedroom, I realised I probably wouldn’t go to sleep yet anyway. I wasn’t used to the house being so quiet, for one thing, and for another, I was still hungry. So I switched on the baby monitor, went back downstairs and put the television on for a bit of background noise while I made some tea and toast. I was buttering the toast when I heard snuffling sounds from the monitor. I froze, holding my breath, knife in mid-air, but she settled down again. I took the monitor and my tea and toast into the sitting room just as some panel show was finishing. Next was a nature documentary, The Life of the Crow. Was that a coincidence? I’d had so many dreams about crows lately, I was becoming obsessed with them. I picked up the remote and went to the menu, but there was no point because I knew I had to watch the crow programme. And because I knew I had to watch it, that I couldn’t not watch it, I felt afraid. I don’t know why; all I knew was that adrenaline was coursing around my body and my heart was beating too fast.
After the crow programme, I turned the television off and sat for a while, thinking about what I’d learned. I wasn’t imagining it; the crows had been speaking to me, just as I thought, but I’d misunderstood what they were trying to tell me. I thought they were angry, still blaming me for running over their baby, but it wasn’t that at all. Tonight, in the programme, they explained. They knew it was an accident, and they wanted me to understand that it was a sign of how fragile babies were; that if I wasn’t careful, I might harm Harriet by accident as well. Of course I told them I understood that perfectly, and that it was the very thing that had worried me since the moment I knew I was expecting her. I told them about Thomas, and about my other baby, and they said they’d help me, that they’d be watching out for me and not to worry if I didn’t know what to do at any point, because they would tell me. All I had to do was look out of the window and listen to what they said.
I knew I mustn’t tell anyone about this. If I did, they’d think I was mad, and then the social workers would come and take Harriet.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
NOW
It is as though I’ve been punched by the air around me. I stare at him until I’m finally able to make my mouth move. ‘Cornwall?’ I look at Cassie. ‘You’re taking Ollie with you?’
‘Of course we’re taking Ollie with us.’ She snorts. ‘What did you think we were going to do, leave him here on his own?’
‘But you can’t move to Cornwall. What about preschool? What about his friends? And Spider – he’ll miss Spider if you . . .’ I shake my head. ‘You can’t just up sticks and move to the other end of the country, just like that.’ I feel cold all over, like when you have flu. This can’t be happening. I can’t lose Ollie; I can’t lose him, too. I start to shiver.
‘We can, Leah,’ Cassie says, her voice sharper now. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you just yet, but as Luke says, you need to get used to the idea that that you won’t be seeing so much of Ollie. I know you’re very fond of him.’
‘Yes, yes I am.’ I can’t say any more, because my throat has closed up completely.
‘But we can’t not move house because of that. And it’s not like we’re moving to the other side of the world, is it?’
You may as well be, I think, but I don’t say it out loud.
‘You can come and visit us, obviously. The house is much bigger than this – you could come for a holiday.’ I notice the look Luke gives Cass at this point. This is all down to him. He doesn’t like me for some reason, and he’s determined to take Ollie away from me. ‘Cornwall,’ I say. It comes out as little more than a croak. ‘It’s such a long way.’ I pick up my wine glass, but put it down again. My throat is so tight I don’t think I can even swallow. My eyes are brimming, so I keep them lowered. Ollie is in the living room, watching Frozen again, singing along. Does he realise what this means, I wonder? He probably has no concept of how far away he’ll be going.
‘I know you’ve become attached to Ollie,’ Cassie says, ‘but this’ll be good for him. He’ll be able to have a proper relationship with his grandparents at last. And he’ll grow up by the sea.’ She looks at me, then rests her hand on my arm. ‘Please don’t be sad, Leah. We’ll stay in touch. We can talk on the phone. We can FaceTime, too, so you can see Ollie and chat with him as much as you like.’ She smiles and gives my arm a little shake. ‘Come on,’ she says. ‘Even my sister isn’t this upset, and she’s his auntie.’
‘Yes, but . . .’ I stop. What am I going to say? I’m his father’s wife? I’m his stepmother, and I should have been his mother? No, I know that’s ridiculous, but I feel the bond with Oliver as strongly as if he were my own flesh and blood. ‘I . . . I’m sorry, this is silly, I kn
ow.’ I push my chair back. ‘Excuse me. Must just pop to the loo.’ I manage to get into the bathroom and bolt the door behind me before I let myself cry. After a minute I blow my nose, then wet the corner of a towel with cold water and hold it over my eyes so they don’t go all red and puffy. I take a few breaths and try to pull myself together before I go back downstairs.
As I walk past the living room I can see Ollie, sitting on the sofa with his thumb in his mouth, looking sleepy. I go in and sit down next to him. ‘How’s my best boy? Are you having a nice day?’ He nods without removing his thumb. I put my arm around him and he snuggles up against me. I want to ask him about Cornwall, how he feels about moving away from everything he knows and loves, but I’m not sure what that would achieve; they’ve clearly made up their minds. They’re kidding themselves if they think it won’t do him any harm to be wrenched out of his life like this. Maybe if I could get Cassie alone, without Luke telling her what to do all the time, what to think . . . I’m stroking Ollie’s hair, playing with the little sticky-up bit at the back. I can hear them clearing plates in the kitchen, so I suppose I ought to go back. I lean down and kiss the top of Ollie’s head. ‘I love you, Ollie. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Love you too,’ he says, but I know it’s automatic, a response Cass taught him.
‘Are you coming back in the kitchen for some apple crumble?’
He shakes his head. ‘Don’t like apple crumble. Please can I have ice cream?’
‘I expect so. Shall we go and ask Mummy?’
He takes his thumb out. ‘Please can I have it in here?’
I smile. ‘I’ll ask.’ As I approach the kitchen, I realise they’re talking about me. I can’t hear everything, but I catch, ‘not healthy . . . can’t let her . . .’ (Luke’s voice), and then, ‘she’s not dangerous’ (Cassie), then Luke again, ‘realistic . . . can’t be sure . . . take the risk . . . be trusted.’ My legs feel weak and shaky; I put my hand out to steady myself. Not healthy? Yes, I’ve become attached to him, but is that so unusual, to be fond of a close friend’s child? And we were close friends, at least before Luke came along. Cassie’s speaking again. Her voice is softer, but I can’t catch it all. ‘ . . . overreacting . . . not as if . . . been through . . . circumstances . . .’ It sounds like she’s trying to pacify him. Does he really think I might be ‘dangerous’? God, he doesn’t think I’m some sort of pervert, does he?
The Flight of Cornelia Blackwood Page 21