by Ruth Heald
‘I’ve got the hang of it now,’ I say, cheeks reddening at the half-truth. ‘And Ian seems to have picked it up quite quickly.’
‘Hmm… that’s all very well while he’s here. So it doesn’t concern you that he didn’t contact you for a week after the twins were born?’
I flush, wishing I hadn’t confided in her when Ian was away. ‘No, not at all,’ I say. ‘He’s explained.’ I’ve put those thoughts to the back of my mind, instead focusing on how kind and attentive he’s been since he got back. But now I feel a flash of uncertainty.
‘And what was his explanation?’
‘My messages didn’t come through.’
‘And you believe him?’
‘Yes. Now Ian’s back and we’ve settled in, we need to start our lives with the twins properly. On our own.’
‘I see.’ She turns away from me and I can see she’s upset.
‘We really appreciate everything you’ve done for us, honestly. I really couldn’t have got through it on my own.’
She looks at me sternly. ‘I know that. You were all over the place after the twins were born.’
‘I’m so grateful. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’
‘And yet it doesn’t seem that way, does it? It doesn’t seem like you’re grateful at all.’ She pauses and looks me right in the eye. ‘So when do you want me to leave?’
‘Ummm…’ I’d assumed she’d leave immediately. ‘We feel we could manage by ourselves now. Obviously we’ll pay you for all the work you’ve done. And a bit extra too, to say thank you.’
‘So, tomorrow? Or even today? You know, if I had a proper contract, then you’d have to give me notice to terminate. But we haven’t got a contract, because I’ve done this as a favour to you. As a friend.’
‘I can give you notice,’ I say quickly. ‘What notice would you need?’
‘It’s usually a month,’ Paula says. ‘But don’t worry about it. It’s clear you want me to go now.’
‘It’s not that we want you to go, Paula. It’s that we want to try doing it on our own. And we can’t do that with another person in the house. We need to find our feet as a family.’
‘I understand that. But really, it’s the babies I care about, the babies I’m worried about. I love your twins, I truly do. And I’d be worried about them if you and Ian were to look after them on your own. You’ve hardly proved yourself so far. You’re completely dependent on me to do most of the nappy changes, cleaning, washing, comforting, bathing.’
‘It was you who insisted on doing all that.’ Why is she twisting everything?
‘Because I could see you couldn’t. I’ve had so many clients, Katie. But all of them could have coped on their own by now. Except for you.’
I feel creeping self-doubt. Perhaps she’s right. ‘I can learn,’ I say. ‘I can change.’ I want to be a proper mother to my twins.
‘Good luck.’ Paula spits out the words.
‘We can stay in touch,’ I say, desperately trying to placate her. ‘You can come round any time you want to visit if you miss the twins.’
‘I’ll have other clients,’ Paula says gruffly.
‘It’s up to you.’
‘This whole idea doesn’t sound like you, Katie. Did Ian put you up to this?’
‘No, it’s what I want too.’
‘OK, then,’ she says, her voice calm, but her eyes dark. ‘If that’s what you want, then I’ll start packing. But you’re making a big mistake. I’m worried about you. You’re burying your head in the sand when it comes to Ian. You know you can’t trust him.’
* * *
I leave Paula to pack up her things and go downstairs. I need some air, and some time on my own. I bundle the twins into the buggy and leave the house. As we walk through the suburban streets, people stop to peer down at the girls, to tell me how tiny and beautiful the twins are. They share stories about their own children at that age. I realise that I rarely have time, just the three of us. Paula normally takes them on walks. I’ve been afraid of looking after them on my own, afraid I wasn’t up to it, but now I feel excitement alongside the fear.
Twenty-Four
When I return to the house, Paula’s packed case is by the door. I can hear her rummaging around upstairs.
‘Hello?’ I shout. There’s no answer. Paula’s clearly not speaking to me and Ian messaged me a while ago to say he was going out to pick up some bits from the shops.
In the living room, there’s a mess of muslins and baby toys and I start to tidy them up. I catch sight of Paula’s photo on the mantelpiece, beaming as she stands over the twins at the hospital. She looks so happy. I feel a twinge of sadness. I’ll miss her. Perhaps I’ll keep the photo there to remind me.
I shove the baby toys in a cupboard and hear footsteps on the stairs.
Paula.
I go to the bottom of the stairs.
‘Hi,’ I say uncertainly.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I thought I’d be gone before you got back. I don’t want to disturb you further.’
‘I don’t want you to leave on bad terms,’ I say. ‘Honestly, I’ve loved having you here. You’ve been a godsend. I hope you’ll always know how much I’ve appreciated you. And how much the girls love you.’
She comes down the stairs without smiling and squeezes by my outstretched arms.
‘Have you seen my reading glasses?’ she asks brusquely. ‘Once I find them, then I’ll go.’
‘Umm… Where did you have them last?’
‘In the kitchen, I think.’
I go into the kitchen and scan all the surfaces, but I can’t see them.
But I spot something else. A pile of bills. Ian must have been going through them.
I’m about to ignore them and continue looking for the glasses, when something catches my eye. The bill on top is from the water company with ‘overdue’ stamped across it in red. I quickly flick through the others. Gas, electricity, broadband. None of them have been paid.
And then there’s one from the bank. I pull the letter out of the envelope. The mortgage is in arrears.
I feel sick. This doesn’t make any sense. Ian’s company owns the house. Surely Ian would have made sure they were paying the bills?
I remember how his credit card was declined when I tried to buy the buggy. I’d assumed I’d spent too much on baby clothes and maxed out his card. But what if his company is in trouble? Is that why he needed the deal in Thailand so much? I pace down the corridor and into the living room. Paula stands by the mantelpiece, the photograph of her and the twins in her hand. ‘I’ll take this,’ she says. ‘To remember them.’
But then she notices my pale face. Her cold, blue eyes turn from angry to concerned in less than a second. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asks, kindly.
‘I think you might have been right about Ian,’ I say.
She frowns. ‘What is it?’
‘I’ve found something. I can’t trust him.’
She smiles gently and puts her arms around me. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
There’s nothing more I want to do than confide in Paula, but I hesitate for a moment. She was about to leave. I wanted her to leave. But now everything’s changed.
Then I find myself nodding. ‘I think I do need to talk about it. I’m so sorry about earlier, Paula. I really didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘Look, you made a mistake. But it’s fine. I can easily stay a bit longer if you need me to. Sit down. I’ll make you a cup of tea. Tell me what’s happened.’
* * *
When Ian returns, he sees my wet eyes and immediately wraps his arms around me. I pull away.
‘Has she gone?’ he asks. ‘I know it must be hard for you, but she needed to go. We need to get started on being a proper family.’
‘It’s not that.’
But he’s not listening. Instead he’s holding up a bag that smells delicious. ‘I bought food from that new Italian restaurant up the road to celebrate. So we don’t hav
e to cook tonight.’
‘How did you pay for it?’ I ask bitterly.
‘Sorry?’ Ian says, as he places the takeaway cartons on the kitchen island.
‘I said, how did you pay for it?’
He looks up, confused, then notices the pile of bills on the kitchen table. The blood drains from his face as he picks them up. ‘Where did these come from?’
‘Where do you think, Ian? The electricity company, the gas, the water. You haven’t been paying any of them.’
He frowns. ‘I’m so sorry, Katie.’ He reaches over to kiss my forehead. ‘What with the big trip to Thailand and all the preparations before that, and then getting back to see the twins afterwards, I must have completely forgotten.’
‘Ian—’
‘And don’t worry, they wouldn’t cut us off. Not yet. They’d need to go through proper procedures.’ He continues to set the table, then glances up and sees my face.
‘There’s no need to look at me like that. It’s really nothing to worry about. You’re used to renting. When you own the house it’s quite different.’
‘What about the money you owe the bank?’
‘What?’
‘The mortgage.’
At this point he pauses and is completely still, a rabbit caught in the headlights. I can see his brain ticking over and I wait.
‘This house is a big project. The company’s taken out a mortgage to pay for the building work. It’s called gearing. The more money you borrow, the bigger your percentage profit.’
‘And wouldn’t it be normal to pay the mortgage?’
‘Of course… The company will have been paying. There must be some mistake.’
‘There’s no mistake, Ian.’ I thrust a letter into his hands from the bank. ‘Look, that’s our address right there. We’re thousands of pounds in debt.’
Ian comes closer and tries to put his arms around me. ‘It’s OK, Katie.’
I shrug away from him. ‘No, Ian, it’s not OK. I’ve tried to forgive you for missing the twins’ births, tried to be understanding. But this is the last straw. You’ve been lying to me.’
‘It’s just a misunderstanding,’ he tells me. ‘I thought the company were paying the mortgage and the bills. They must have thought I was.’
‘Another misunderstanding? Just like you thought the house would be done up ready for us to move in, but then it wasn’t?’ I say angrily. ‘The people at your company sound incompetent, if that’s the case. Why didn’t you check the bills were being paid?’
‘I should have, Katie, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.’
I laugh, sick of his apologies. ‘Just like you’re sorry for missing the birth of our girls. Because your phone wasn’t working. Another piece of bad luck, Ian. These things keep happening to you,’ I spit.
‘Katie, that’s the truth – I didn’t get your messages.’
‘You must think I’m stupid. Just a stupid girl working in a coffee shop. Someone who’ll fall for all your lies.’
‘Of course I don’t think that. I love you.’
The words cut through me like a knife. They used to mean so much, but now I know they’re empty.
‘You need to leave. Right now. Get away from me. Get out of our lives.’ I’m holding back tears.
‘But Katie—’
‘It’s your house?’ I interrupt. ‘Is that what you were going to say?’
‘No—’
I push him towards the door, and eventually he relents. ‘We need to talk about this,’ he says. ‘Maybe when you’ve calmed down.’
‘I’m not going to calm down.’ I undo the latch. ‘Get out. You’re not welcome back.’
‘But Katie – when will I be able to see the twins?’
I shut the door and burst into tears.
12
My sister won’t play with me in the playground anymore. She’s playing with other girls and I watch them jumping over the skipping rope and laughing. I tried to join in, but my sister told the others they couldn’t play with me.
She hasn’t spoken to me for two weeks. I try to start conversations as we walk to school together, but she insists on walking faster and faster until she is running away from me. I try to speak to her before we go to bed each night, to tell her that I love her, but she turns away.
She hasn’t forgiven me for waving at the man. We were kept in the basement the entire time he was there. At one point we weren’t sure if we’d ever be let out. But we were. But then the following week, Dad locked us in the basement before the man even arrived.
I have to do something. Today Miss Kingdom is on playground duty again. It’s down to me to fix things for us, to make things better. I approach the teacher slowly, shaking. It’s all up to me.
‘Miss?’
‘Yes?’
I can feel the colour rising in my face, going bright red. I feel sick. I have to get this right.
‘Spit it out, dear.’
‘We… we told you about our father.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Our father… he hurts us.’
‘Oh, yes… your little game. I rang him and he told me all about it. You girls need to learn the difference between play and reality. Luckily I spoke to him before I reported him.’ She strokes my hair affectionately.
‘It’s not a game…’
Miss Kingdom crouches down next to me and smiles. ‘You’ve got a vivid imagination. That’s a good thing sometimes. But it’s not good to make up lies about your father.’
Twenty-Five
I watch from the upstairs window as Ian retreats from the house. Then I go into the kitchen and sit at the table, shaking. I can’t trust him at all.
I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder and I jump.
Paula.
‘He’s gone?’ she asks.
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s for the best.’
‘I hope so.’ The reality of what I’ve just done strikes me like a blow to the chest. I’ve chucked out the father of my daughters. Without him I won’t have a roof over my head for much longer. Without him I’m a single parent of baby twins. I don’t know how I’m going to cope.
‘I’ve unpacked my stuff back into the bedroom. I can stay as long as you need me to.’
‘I won’t be able to pay you without Ian,’ I say miserably. I won’t be able to pay for anything without Ian.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ she says, reaching out and stroking my hair.
‘Thanks.’ For a second, I think about asking her to move into the spare room, but then I think better of it. I need her around, and if she’s doing me a favour I feel too bad to ask her to sleep in there. ‘It shouldn’t be too long. I think I’ll have to move out. There’s no way I can afford to pay the bills.’
‘I wouldn’t be too rash. You don’t have anywhere to go. And if you move out, you’ll lose any claim you have on the house.’
‘I don’t have any claim on it. Ian owns it.’
‘But you’re living here, Katie. With two vulnerable children. You’ve spent more nights in this house than Ian has. If you don’t move out then Ian will have to kick you out. And I don’t think he’ll get very far kicking two tiny babies out of their home.’
* * *
The first few days after Ian and I split up are a blur, and Paula sweeps in like an efficient angel and looks after the twins and me. She runs me warm baths and lets me cry into my tea. I can’t stop thinking about Ian. I miss him, miss the idea of our future together. I wish that none of this had happened, that we were still together. But when he rings me, again and again, I reject the calls because I can’t bear to hear his excuses. I cry every day. Paula sits with me and listens. She helps me come up with a plan to get through the next few months. I’ll find work that I can do while Paula looks after the twins. Whenever Ian has the girls I’ll take the opportunity to try and get extra shifts. The coffee shop in central London is too long a commute, so I’m going to take my CV round all the local ones, and hope I can pick up a job.
‘You’re bound to get something,’ Paula says encouragingly. ‘With your experience.’
‘Thanks,’ I say. I can’t believe I’m looking for work so soon after having the twins. My body still aches all over, my stitches sting and I feel like I have permanent period pains. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to stand on my feet all day.
‘Do I look OK?’ I ask, wanting reassurance.
‘You look fine.’ Paula reaches forward and tucks a stray hair behind my ear. ‘But is this what you want to do? Go back to serving coffee? Is it what you really enjoy?’ I sigh. She sounds just like Mum.
‘Yes,’ I say defensively. It’s not like I can do much else.
‘What about your music?’
‘What about it?’
‘You play the piano beautifully. Have you thought about teaching?’
‘No…’ I say. I never considered teaching before as we didn’t have a piano in the flat. But now my mind suddenly races, imagining myself sitting on the piano stool all day, helping others to learn. ‘But the piano’s a bit out of tune. It doesn’t sound right.’
‘We could tune it.’
‘We could,’ I say, as I think it through, smiling. It does sound like a good idea.
‘And I could make up some flyers and we could post them through letterboxes in the local area.’
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘I’d like to. It would be lovely to see you happy, doing something you love. After all the stress you’ve gone through with Ian.’
I nod, my mind wandering as I imagine a completely new life. A bubble of excitement rises in my chest. I feel hopeful for the first time since Ian left.