by Ruth Harrow
Then I remember. April and I had spent a rainy afternoon looking through Mum's magazines and scrawling in notebooks made-up designs for our dream wedding dresses.
'I've been working on it for ages,' April says proudly. 'After school mostly. Obviously, it has taken me longer than I thought because I have a boyfriend now. But I got it finished this morning.'
I turn the dress over in my hands. I had no idea April was working on this in secret. Ivory satin fabric is twisted in elegant bunches around the skirt and pearly buttons have been sewn carefully on the bodice, alongside stick-on jewels.
It is clear April has gone to a lot of effort in all the details. She tilts her face at me enquiringly. 'Well? Do you like it? Hannah, say something, for crying out loud!'
I think of how hard I've tried these past few weeks to be grown-up, how I've moved all my toys, including my dolls into the toy cupboard. Hidden and out of sight.
'It's – it's beautiful April,' I say, forcing a smile. 'I love it.'
She frowns at me and I notice how she already has her makeup done immaculately for our cinema outing later.
'Are you sure?' she says. 'I thought you would be more excited. Are you going to put it on one of your dolls, then? Where are they all anyway? I haven't seen them for ages …'
She gets up and starts looking in the various sections of my wardrobe. I slide my legs off the bed and edge nearer the bedside cabinet that holds Will's gift. I don't want April to see that I keep it so close.
When she opens the closet door instead, a heap of colourful toys falls out. A collection of My Little Pony figures, Trolls, Barbie dolls and other plastic debris spill over my cream-toned carpet.
'Hannah,' she laughs. 'Is this your idea of tidying up? Imagine if Mum saw how you've just stuffed everything in here like this!'
She rummages in the pile on the floor and pulls out what she knows to be my favourite Barbie. Or rather, what was my favourite, back when I still played with them.
She sits down on the bed with me again and strips the doll unceremoniously. She pulls the dress over the plastic figure and fastens the Velcro at the back.
'There,' she says, admiring the effect at arm's length. 'You can call her Pearly Rose after you.'
'But my name isn't really Rose, though is it?' I say with annoyance. 'I don't know why you call me that all the time. Maybe we should call her something else.'
'We've named her now. You can't take it back or it would be bad luck. I think she looks great. It's a really cute design.'
My teeth grit at the word cute and at the fact that April places the doll firmly on display on my dressing table. I get a shock when I catch sight of my irritated reflection and do my best to look pleased. 'Yes, it's nice,' I manage to say. 'Thanks.'
Luckily, my sister is so busy balancing the doll in between my hairbrush and cassette player that she doesn't notice my expression.
Considering it isn't even yet lunchtime, I find it unusual that April has already dressed in the outfit that she had set out over a week ago for this date. Normally she would save changing into her dark tartan skirt and black top with long, see-through sleeves until the last minute.
'Why are you ready so early?' I ask. 'Will doesn't get here until six … You haven't changed the time without telling me, have you?'
A flash of panic surprises me as I think about all the preparation I've decided I need to do before I see Will later. I am sure I need at least half an hour to get myself ready.
April casts me an odd look via the mirror and I catch something unusual in her eyes.
'Of course not,' she says, unnecessarily adjusting objects on my table to her liking. 'Will's plans haven't changed. I'm just going somewhere else first.'
'Where?'
She huffs and tilts her head impatiently to the side. 'I knew you were going to ask me that. I'm only going over to Reg and Viv's house. Reg is paying me to tidy his garage for him.'
'Why do you need to be dressed like that to tidy his garage?'
April avoids my eye and an infuriating smirk plays upon her face, as though she is enjoying a private joke with herself.
'I don't get it,' I say, confused. 'Anyway, I thought Vivienne went to dance classes on a Saturday?'
April shrugs. 'I think she does. So what?'
'Didn't Mum say we weren't supposed to go over to their house when Vivienne isn't there?'
'Yeah, right. Mum worries too much. Besides, I need the money.'
'What for?'
'Well, you won't understand this, but when you aren't a little kid any more, you have to pay for things. Things like cinema tickets, for instance.'
'Will said he didn't mind paying for my ticket.'
'Whatever. It's just not nice to accept charity off strangers, that's all. It was rude to accept it.'
'Will isn't a stranger.'
'OK, Hannah. Whatever. I've got to get going. I don't want to be late for Reg.'
She disappears out the door and I am left looking at my confused reflection in the mirror, behind Pearly Rose.
As soon as I hear the front door close behind April, I move over and snatch up the doll from the dressing table. It gets added to the bundle I stow away more securely back in the closet.
I shut the door with a snap and tell myself that April won't notice anyway. She has been so busy with her boyfriend lately.
She is becoming careless.
11
The doorbell rings. It is Penny. She has come for the pre-agreed dinner that I feel like I have simply got caught in the middle of. I wonder how long this arrangement has been going on and what Penny is hoping to gain from it.
Even though Dad has been playing it down all week, he can't hide from me how much effort he has put in for what he assures me is a casual occasion. I know it to be rare that Dad himself cooks a multi-course meal from scratch. Perhaps his recent experience as a B&B host is what has inspired such a change in him?
Penny appears in the dining room. 'Hiya, how are you?'
'Good, thanks,' I say, pouring wine. 'Red or white?'
'White, please. I brought dessert.'
She sets a flimsy box down on the worktop.
'It looks great,' I say, eyeing the store-bought cheesecake.
She has applied more dark eyeliner than I have seen on her before and her top seems overly low cut after seeing her wearing a work polo shirt.
'I got you a little something too, Hannah.' She hands me a large flat box wrapped in shiny paper.
'Oh? I wasn't expecting anything.' My fingers tug at the seams of the foil paper with difficulty and reveal a box of ornamental butterflies.
Penny looks at me expectantly. 'I thought they would brighten up the outside of your house.'
'My house?'
'Yes, those sort of terraces can look a little bland, can't they?'
'Oh … Do you know someone that lives near me?'
She laughs. 'No, just you. Well, I mean, your father has told me so much about you, I feel as if I know you already.'
'And you can imagine what my house looks like from what he has told you?'
'Well, I have to admit I did take a little sneaky peek with help from Mr Google.'
She gives me a playful wink.
'I see.'
'Well, we have all been there, haven't we? You can't say you've never looked up someone's address just to get the measure of where they live?'
'No, I guess not.'
'Well, there you go then.'
Dad appears in the dining room. 'You two ladies getting acquainted? Take a seat, Penny. You are making the place look cluttered.' He pulls out a chair for her and she sits down, giggling girlishly.
'Your Dad is such a gentleman, Hannah. I suppose your Will is like that? Where is he anyway?'
'He got called out on a job. A dentist in Telford couldn't get their system working this afternoon. They need it fixed by tomorrow morning.'
'Oh, that's funny. I thought I saw your car on the other side of the village on my way over. Must h
ave been someone else.'
'Yes, it must have.'
'I hope he gets paid well for disappearing off like this when he has already made plans.'
'Yes, he does. He charges out of hours rates, so he rarely turns down jobs like this.'
'And he leaves you all on your lonesome? That's a shame. I would have liked to have finally met him in person after hearing so much about him. As I said, I feel like I know you all already.'
I smile, wondering what on earth Dad has told her about us.
When dinner is ready, I find I have to search the house for Eva before we eat. I find her on her phone upstairs, completely oblivious to the time.
I can't quite put my finger on the odd feeling I get around Penny. The only thing I can identify is that when she smiles, her eyes remain neutral, unaffected. Other than that, she seems perfectly pleasant. She could make her jokes a little more child-friendly for Eva's sake, however.
As she fetches another bottle of wine, Penny explains that she rearranged the kitchen in the order she has everything at home. 'Tony had everything all over the place. Utensils in separate drawers, cutting knives in the back of the cupboard. Didn't you, Tony?'
'That's the way Mum always kept it,' I explain.
I realise now why sharp knives are now freely available in a cutting block behind Dad. He had always been so strict about that when April and I were children.
Penny shrugs.
Eva pipes up. 'That's pretty much where we keep everything at home. Mum says it's safer.'
'Ah, like father, like daughter. It's organised chaos then.'
Penny struggles with the corkscrew, turning it around the other way and pulling a face. 'Temperamental this thing is, Tony. You need a new one.'
Dad nods. 'I'll have to pick one up at the weekend. Here, let me.' He takes the bottle and manages to open it on the first try.
'I loosened it up for you,' Penny says, slapping my father on the shoulder as she throws back her head to laugh.
She moves on to serve her dessert, removing the plastic packaging and cuts into slices. I'm automatically given a much larger segment than I'm used to. Dad's thick pizza dough sits heavily in my stomach already. I am keen to be polite, as this seems to be Penny's evening as much as Dad's and don't leave any, but I am aware of how much the rich meal will set me back on the scales.
'So, Hannah,' Penny says in between mouthfuls of cheesecake. 'I hear you are jetting off to Egypt soon. I'm so jealous! I adore the sun, I do. Not sure if I can deal with all that sand though.'
I look up, surprised. I had been dreaming of travelling to Egypt for years, but I don't remember mentioning any such thing to anyone. 'No,' I say. 'I'm not sure where you would get that idea. We aren't taking a holiday abroad this year.'
Penny raises her painted eyebrows. 'Oh, my mistake.'
She falls silent for the first time all evening.
With Penny chipping into every conversation thread I start during dinner, I haven't been able to speak much to my father. He might as well be in another room, rather than simply across the table. Now should be a good opportunity to do so, but there is an awkward edge to the silence. I get the impression that I have offended Penny, but can't imagine why.
After a few moments of working my way through her dry dessert, she speaks again with her usual enthusiasm and I think I just imagined any suggestion of upset.
'So, Eva, your grandfather tells me you've made some friends in the village.'
Eva gives me a startled glance first before she shrugs. 'Maybe.'
Penny smiles and gives my daughter a wink. 'I hear there is a party tomorrow night. Any boys you have your eye on?'
My mouth drops open. 'I don't think that's appropriate, Penny. Eva is only twelve, she is far too young for any of that.' I look to Dad, who focusses on eating without looking up.
Penny looks surprised. 'Oh, I clean for the family on Wednesdays.' She looks back to Eva. 'I thought they said you were going, Love?'
I'm surprised when I glance at my daughter that she is reddening.
'I don't know,' she says slowly. 'I just said I might, that's all.' She twists her spoon around on her empty plate. 'I didn't want to tell them my mum wouldn't let me and sound like a little kid.'
'Eva, you didn't even tell me you had been invited to a party. You were only speaking to the girls for a short while. They are strangers, for goodness sake …'
Anything could be set to go on at this gathering – drugs, alcohol – and who knows what else. Why would they invite a girl they had only just met? Who else would be there? And what would they want from my little girl?
Dad makes a noise. 'Will said you like to keep a tight reign on her. He wasn't joking.'
Did Will really say that?
I glance around the table. Between my daughter's glum expression and the way my father and Penny look at me, anyone would think I have just banned Christmas.
'She's just too young,' I say, feeling the need to defend myself even though I know I am right. 'And we are only here for a week or so. Anyway, those girls are older. They will have different interests.'
'They turn twelve tomorrow, Mum,' Eva says quietly without looking at me. 'It's just a birthday party. Their parents will be there.'
'Oh, go on, Hannah,' Penny says. 'Let her go, enjoy herself for a change.'
I can't understand why I'm being made to feel unreasonable; A hysterical mother who won't let her child do anything fun. That is not what is happening here. I know I am right.
I'm just trying to keep my daughter safe. No unnecessary risks, that's all.
'Sorry, Eva. I wouldn't be doing my job as a parent properly if I let you go off with people I have never met. Maybe if you were a little older, perhaps.'
Eva's shoulders slump a little. I think for a few moments she believed I was going to be swayed into making a reckless decision by my clueless father and his cleaner, who isn't even any blood relation to my daughter.
If something awful happened to Eva, Penny wouldn't care. She didn't carry her for eight months or spend weeks in the special care baby unit before she was even allowed home. Nor did she care for her when she had scarlet fever as a toddler, or watch her first nativity.
I wish Will wasn't working tonight. He never seems to be around when I really need him.
I remind myself we need the money.
I take a large mouthful of wine to wash down the remaining stubborn crumbs in my throat. Swallowing is suddenly difficult.
After dinner, Dad insists on walking Penny home to her cottage a short walk across the village. It's a beautiful warm evening outside and they have both had a little too much to drink to justify being behind the wheel.
I worry about Dad walking back home alone, especially when I saw how he struggled just the other day on our walk.
I tell him not to worry about the dishes and that I will take care of everything for when he gets back.
Penny touches my arm and thanks me. 'It's nice for someone else to clean up in this house for a change. Although I'm having a little break anyway – not having to clean up after paying guests and all. You're putting me out of a job, Hannah.'
I find myself alone in the kitchen after Eva tells me she is going to the toilet and hasn't returned even ten minutes later. I assume her phone has sucked her back in upstairs and I relish having something physical to do to keep my mind off things.
It's so quiet that my mind slips back to April. I even turn around expectantly as I fill the sink as though she will walk into the room and light it with her confident smile.
The last remnants of the summer day fade outside. The sky is not yet dark, but nearer the ground the silhouettes of the trees line the fields in the distance, forming dark borders I know small creatures will soon start to shuffle about in.
Something catches my eye at the furthest edge of the field nearest to our garden, beyond the rose archway.
I'm sure I saw a bright flash of light out there near the hedgerow. A camera flash?
The
kitchen lights are on and I can barely make out anything on ground level outside. Dusky mauve light blankets everything, merging green hedgerow with shrubs and rocks, making them all a uniform shade of dark. A painter could sweep her dark-tipped brush around the edges of the canvas to project what surrounds the nearest field.
I stare ahead, my hands submerged in the hot dishwater. The warmth spreads up my arms and makes me prickle all over with heat.
I am acutely aware the front door wasn't locked behind my father. Eva is upstairs alone.
As I watch, I see another light appear in front of me, only this one is different, duller, but much bigger.
What is it?
'Mum?'
I spin around.
It is Eva. She holds her phone in her hand, the screen reflects behind me in the window.
I exhale.
'Do you want some help with the dishes?'
'Er – yes. Thanks, sweetheart. You can grab that towel near the cooker and start drying if you like.'
It is clear my daughter expected me to say no; she drags her feet across the floor with a huff to pick up the towel.
It's a relief sometimes when my daughter is so caught up in thinking of herself that she doesn't notice when I feel my anxiety building. I don't like her to see me like that.
Her ignorance can sometimes keep her oblivious to some of mine and Will's disagreements too.
If I'm honest, I'm glad I'm not alone now. I look back up across the fields now and then, worried that something or someone is out there looking back.
Watching.
12
I lie in bed, flitting between activities on my phone but not doing anything in particular. Dad was exhausted after dinner and retired to bed shortly after he got back. Eva was no company either, absorbed in a group chat with her school friends.
I scroll through my Twitter and Facebook accounts trying to find something that will interest me. I visit April's Facebook profile again and read through her last posts. The final few were brief, basically just a few words about where she was going and what she was doing. No personal thoughts, feelings or emojis in sight. Was that a sign things were getting too much? Was she posting hoping somebody would read the signs?