by Lucy Dawson
‘OK!’ Rosie says eagerly, the chair screeching nosily as she pushes it back and runs off to her room.
I wait until she’s out of earshot and turn back to Susannah. ‘Isobel is obviously not all there, but she’s not dangerous, is she?’
I expect Susannah to laugh and tell me of course not, it would be like fearing a kitten’s bite, but in fact, she hesitates and I sit up a little straighter in anticipation.
‘I once had a bit of a set to with Isobel,’ she confesses, ‘after she and Timothy split up. Oh, about this, that and nothing really.’ She waves a dismissive hand at my enquiring gaze. ‘Some of the letters she wrote him at university came back unopened and she wanted me to give them to him personally. I said I would, but I didn’t. When he still didn’t respond, she challenged me about it and when I confessed, she got terribly cross and it was a little intimidating, I must say.’
Susannah found someone intimidating? I’m astonished… and immediately worried.
‘She’s very sweet until she’s not, if you know what I mean. Really though, her problems are entirely due to the mother wrapping her in cotton wool and packing her away like the angel on top of the Christmas tree. I have a very nice friend in Harrogate and her daughter has struggled with various ailments of the psyche over the years. They finally accepted she wasn’t going to get any better and she lives in a really super…’ she pauses, ‘I don’t want to say unit, that’s not the right word, because it’s so much more homely than that.’ She wrinkles her nose.
‘Hospital?’ I volunteer.
‘No, because of course medically there’s nothing wrong with her either. Centre!’ Susannah beams. ‘A really lovely centre. It has structure, discipline… and I do think that would be the best thing for Isobel too. The mother isn’t getting any younger, after all; what will happen when she dies, one wonders? Anyway,’ Susannah gets up and walks her mug over to the sink, ‘in the short-term, it’s very unfortunate that Mrs Parkes wasn’t able to keep Isobel away from Fox Cottage yesterday and I see it would have been unnerving. She’s a very beautiful girl, but I can assure you, Claire – Timothy has no interest in her whatsoever. It was barely more than a teenage crush as far as he was concerned.’ She rinses out her mug and puts it in the dishwasher. ‘Although Timothy has always had an unnerving knack for doing everything you rather hoped he wouldn’t.’
I laugh and swallow the last of my drink.
‘Dear chap. He was what you might call a challenging child.’ Susannah leans on the side and crosses her arms, smiling. ‘I didn’t know any better, of course, I’d had no other experience of children at all, but my mother told me Timothy was harder work than all four of my brothers put together. He was totally fearless – erring on stupidity. My God, the things that child would stuff in his mouth! Insects, pennies, buttons, sand – you name it.’ She sighs. ‘And the tantrums. He would hit, scratch and kick if he didn’t get his own way when he was small. I’ve told you before – it’s no coincidence we didn’t have any more; I was exhausted because, of course, he also didn’t sleep properly until he was five. If I’d have had a darling like Rosie first, I might have felt brave enough for another, but I couldn’t risk a second Timothy. One is enough!’ She laughs and looks at the kitchen clock. ‘Shall we go?’
I finish circling my finger round the outside edge of my mug as I listen carefully to all of that. ‘Did he really not sleep until he was five?’ I say lightly. ‘You poor things.’
‘It was hell, Claire. Nothing worked. Pleading, scolding, closing his door, smacking him. He would lie there for hours shouting for us sometimes.’
Smacking? I think about how Rosie can only sleep when she has the bathroom light on and her door open, and how when I was scared as a little girl, I’d go and climb into bed with Jen – often forcing her to get up and accompany me to the loo in the night, making her stand sleepy sentry outside the door while I called ‘are you there?’ to check she hadn’t deserted me mid-wee. My heart actually aches for Tim, lying there in the dark alone, frightened and no one coming to him. How terrifying that would be for a small boy.
‘Don’t judge, Claire,’ Susannah says sharply, and I blush. ‘Until you’ve had a very challenging child, you can’t possibly understand. It was also a different era; of course you wouldn’t smack a child now, but then we didn’t know any better,’ Susannah sighs again, ‘And actually I’m not altogether sure some problems wouldn’t be solved these days if parents gave their little dears a swift tap on the back of the leg to remind them who is actually in charge.’ She picks up a cloth and gives the table in front of me a quick wipe before throwing it back in the sink and drying her hands. ‘You know, now I think of it, I’m not convinced Timothy learnt to sleep properly until he started boarding. I knew it would sort itself out when he shared a dorm with the other boys. It’s the camaraderie, you see. Tony wasn’t convinced, but,’ she taps her nose and looks conspiratorially at me, ‘mother knows best.’
I think about how even now as a grown man, Tim sleeps in the foetal position, his hands shoved protectively through his ankles, unable to make himself vulnerable. The first time I saw him asleep like that, I almost cried. ‘Didn’t Tony want him to board then?’ I ask casually. ‘I always thought it was his decision to send Tim back after the shooting?’
‘What?’ Susannah pulls a face. ‘Of course not!’
‘I mean, to send him somewhere safer.’
Susannah hoots. ‘Darling girl, Oswestry is hardly the ghetto! Tim was always going to board. He’d already done a term and come home for the holidays when the shooting happened. Tony didn’t send him off because it happened. In fact, Tony wondered if maybe we shouldn’t keep him at the local school after the event – Isobel and Adam were there – but I felt that would be both pointless and cruel. Timothy had already done the hard bit of settling in the first term and made friends, it would have been a waste of so much effort, and money. I was determined the sports hall incident wasn’t going to be allowed to dominate our lives – and it hasn’t.’
She speaks proudly but I can also hear a slightly defensive tone creeping into her voice. I don’t want to sound like I’m criticising. What would be the point? It’s all done now, but I don’t think I will ever get my head around why some parents think it will make their children happy to be sent to live with a bunch of strangers at age eight – even under the best of circumstances, let alone after what happened to Tim:
Nice Christmas, Vaughan?
Yes, Sir, I got shot, Sir – it was awfully exciting!
Jolly good! Now, textbooks open to page ten, boys!
‘It was just what everyone in our set did, Claire. Not sending Tim to boarding school would have been unthinkable.’ Susannah is still watching me carefully. ‘Yes I missed him, I missed him dreadfully – but that was the way things were, and the discipline did him good. It’s too funny though, that after all of that effort he’s going to be a builder. Tony is right though – much as it pains me to admit it – Timothy needs a trade, or a profession. He really doesn’t want Tim to have to spend the next year realising he’s never going to make it as an actor. Better to let Timothy wonder what if, than have yet another failure shoved down his throat, don’t you think?’ She lowers her voice. ‘You and I both know he wouldn’t have lasted five seconds as an actor. He’d never have coped with the rejection. Now, Claire, darling – I don’t mean to rush, but we really have to go, if we’re going.’
She straightens up and runs her fingers through her well-cut, blown-out blonde hair – she’s had the same style about as long as Camilla Parker Bowles – and smooths a crease from the front of her trousers. ‘Don’t let Isobel or her mother give you a moment’s more worry. Timothy told me what Eve Parkes said to you yesterday. She really is the most unpleasant woman.’
Susannah pauses and for a horrible moment I think she’s about to unburden herself about the affair to me. I really, really don’t want her to confide anything that I’d feel duty-bound to discuss with Tim, and might upset him m
ore than he already is right now. If he’s forced to delve any further into his shitty past he might just implode completely. I’m not sure I can take much more either.
Thankfully, she seems to change her mind. ‘The important point is, in answer to your question, on balance I don’t think Isobel is dangerous, no. Now – time to go!’ She strides across the room, elegant wide leg, navy trousers swishing as she gives me a dazzling smile. ‘Chop, chop! You’ve got five minutes.’ I must look as confused as I feel because she raises an eyebrow and says sternly: ‘You’re not getting changed?’
I look down at my jeans and Converse. No, I’m not, because I don’t live in Surrey any more. That’s at least one good thing about having moved to the countryside, surely? ‘I’ll do, won’t I?’
‘You look lovely,’ Susannah says sweetly. ‘I’ll get our coats and call Rosie, shall I? Let’s go and make you some new friends!’
Fifteen
Claire
‘So Rosie, this is Anna, and she’s going to be in your class at your new school!’
The two girls stare shyly at each other. Rosie is leaning on my leg and twirling lightly on the spot, her unicorn tucked under her arm.
‘Anna really likes unicorns too, Rosie. Look – she’s got one on her top!’ Jo, Anna’s mum, points it out, placing her hand gently on her daughter’s head as she passes on her way to collect my cup of tea from the vast, very smart kitchen we’re sat in – all sharp angles, clinical surfaces and bi-folds… not unlike the expensive Scandi top and wide-leg cropped trousers combo she’s wearing. I’d look like a triangle in an outfit like that – she looks edgy, unflappable and glamorous. I absolutely should have changed.
‘Hey, why don’t you take Rosie upstairs to see your room? She might like to meet Twilight? That’s Anna’s new talking My Little Pony.’ Jo raises her eyebrows enticingly, and Rosie looks up at me.
‘That sounds amazing! Go and look – I’ll be right here.’ I smile back at her, and Rosie lets go of me, following Anna out of the room. We hear them begin to chatter as they walk up the stairs.
‘Children’s ability to make friends in an instant is remarkable,’ says Susannah, sipping her tea. ‘Like water off a duck’s back.’
‘It really is. Anna’s so been looking forward to meeting Rosie,’ Jo says warmly, sitting down opposite me on the grey corner sofa and smiling – the perfect Sunday supplement ‘at home with’ shot. I pull the sleeves of my jumper over my hands, becoming acutely embarrassed by how scruffy and frumpy I look. I’d have made the effort to dress nicely back at home – I should have done it here too, and not made assumptions about the local mums before even meeting them.
‘Is Rosie excited about starting at Midbourne House on Monday?’
‘I think so, yes.’ I try to relax, feeling like I need to make up for looking like a potato by being confident and amusing instead. ‘She hasn’t actually seen it yet, so I think it’s hard for her to visualise, but when we came to look at the school in January, we were very impressed. That’s my partner and I… when I say partner,’ I add quickly, ‘I of course mean Rosie’s Dad… we’re just not married, that’s all. After ten years and a child, boyfriend doesn’t really cut it any more.’ I laugh. ‘And lover sounds unpleasantly 1970s satin sheets, so partner it is…’ I trail off as they both look at me in surprise.
‘Would you like a biscuit?’ Jo politely passes me the plate as I take one and wonder what on earth is wrong with me. Susannah shoots me a look which says that’s exactly what she’s thinking too, before helicoptering in to rescue me from the small-talk rock I’ve just smashed into. She winches me out of the water with a smooth: ‘It’s all been so terribly quick, Jo! Poor Claire is utterly exhausted!’
She pauses long enough to let the ‘she’s not mad, just tired’ defence register, then continues: ‘Timothy has been longing to start a renovation project and they wanted some proper outdoor space for Rosie. Claire is very fortunate in that she can work from home and is able to be flexible. So the stars suddenly aligned and here they are! We’re delighted, of course!’ She smiles at me, willing me to get a grip and act like a normal person.
‘I can confirm this,’ Jo nods. ‘My mother says Susie’s been counting down the days until your arrival. So what is it you do, Claire?’
‘I’ve had about a million jobs,’ I try to bolster the beige-ness of what’s to come, ‘but right now I work in data analysis. I help clients formulate their media activity.’
‘Does that mean you sell data?’ Jo says shrewdly, sipping her tea.
‘Sort of,’ I admit. ‘But all licenced and above board, I promise.’
Jo laughs as Susannah reaches into her bag, pulls out her phone and stares at the screen before standing. ‘Ladies will you excuse me a moment? I have a brief work call to make.’
We murmur agreement and she leaves the room, closing the door discretely behind her as I realise with embarrassment that she’s deliberately left us alone to ‘get to know’ one another. Unfortunately I immediately become tongue-tied as a result, and in the awkward moment of silence where I ought to ask Jo what she does, but don’t – Jo is forced to step in with: ‘So Susie mentioned you’ve moved from Surrey? This must be a bit of a change of pace for you?’
‘Well, it was Greater London really.’ I think of our old street longingly, the line of terraces, anonymous cars parked outside, bumper-to-bumper, someone else always around while never in your face, ‘but yes, it’s a bit different. Obviously we’ve been coming to visit Susannah and Tony for a long time though, so we kind of knew what we were letting ourselves in for. Rosie is really excited.’ The harder I try, the more I am becoming the conversational equivalent of a damp flannel.
‘Ah – that’s great.’ Jo smiles blandly. ‘I’m so glad we got the chance to do this today so that Rosie has a friendly face on Monday, but Midbourne House is such a lovely school, I’m sure she’ll be very happy there.’
‘I hope so.’ I clear my throat. ‘I’ve taken next week off as well as this one to be around and help her settle in. Her last school was a little bigger, so I’m sure she’ll enjoy it being more homely, and she’s very excited about wearing a hat. There’s a lot of uniform to get though, isn’t there?’
‘There really is,’ Jo agrees. ‘The amount of PE kit is ridiculous. You don’t need half of it though, don’t worry. Just the tracksuit will be fine. They’re doing hockey this term, so you might want to buy her a stick, but it’s not compulsory. The school have got plenty.’
‘Hockey? Is that safe at their age?’ I blurt, and Jo smiles kindly. ‘Their teacher is an ex-international, she’s got it covered, don’t worry, but you do need to get Rosie a mouthguard and shin pads.’
‘Thanks for the heads-up.’ Hats and jolly hockey sticks indeed. Wow. I take too big a gulp of tea, have a huge coughing fit as a result and am forced to take a moment before I can speak again, having gone bright red in the face.
‘Are you all right?’ Jo says in concern, putting a glass of water down next to me as I whoop and nod, still trying to catch my breath. ‘Midbourne House sounds really great,’ I splutter, coughing deeply again and grabbing my water, slopping it slightly as I take a desperate mouthful. ‘It’s a big change for all of us and she needs to be happy. I’m sure she will be.’
Jo looks actually worried that I might expire on her kitchen floor. ‘Absolutely. You’re sure you’re OK?’
‘Yes,’ I insist, although my eyes are now watering. I look up at the ceiling and try to steady my breathing before giving another involuntary bark of a cough.
‘Well, it sounds like you’ve made some very wise decisions.’ Jo valiantly attempts to talk over my splutters. ‘And how exciting to be just upping sticks and starting a new adventure! I really admire you for just going for it. Do shout if you want some help renovating Fox Cottage, won’t you? I don’t know if Susannah mentioned it, but I’m an interior designer. Sometimes really big projects can feel a bit overwhelming when you’re starting out.’ She smiles. ‘I
’ll happily come round and take a look if you’d like me to?’
‘She seems very nice,’ I agree as we walk down the main street, not wanting to say I think she liked the prospect of doing up Fox Cottage more than she liked me. That would sound ungrateful and it was kind of Susannah to arrange a date for us. ‘Not too far ahead, Ro!’ I call as Rosie skips off down the road looking in windows. ‘My feet are hardly touching the ground,’ I say unhappily. ‘New house, new school, new friends… new backstory.’
Susannah eyes me keenly. ‘New backstory? How so?’
‘Um,’ I wish I’d kept quiet and so choose my words carefully, ‘Jo obviously thinks we’re moving from some big house in Surrey and that we have plenty of money for private schools and house renovations. None of that’s true, is it?’
Susannah waves a hand airily. ‘We’re happy to do fees for Rosie. We’ve wanted to for some time, but you wouldn’t let us! If it’s only for a year it makes so much more sense to just get on with it and go private, rather than mess around waiting to hear on a possible place here or there, in this or that oversubscribed school. It’s nobody’s business who pays what – and who cares if Jo thinks you came from a mansion rather than a two-up two-down? Isn’t that what today’s world of social media is all about? Presenting an image rather than the real picture? It’s what people think they see that matters.’
I fall quiet.
‘Just leave out the bit about my little bastard of a son stealing all of your money and you’ll be fine.’
My mouth falls open, shocked. Susannah can still pull the rug from under my feet after all this time and, knowing it, she laughs. ‘Oh come on, Claire. You’re not the first woman who’s faking it to make it, and you shan’t be the last. We women must stick together: ‘“There’s a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women”.’