‘They’re good. Archie got stung by a bee at break time today. He’s fine though. Oh, and Beth wanted me to remind you about something, which I’m not supposed to know about, but she said you’d know what she meant.’
‘I do,’ I reply, thinking of the ribbon I mustn’t forget to buy tomorrow.
‘Good. They didn’t eat much dinner. I think Christie gave them quite a snack selection after school. I keep wondering whether you should say something.’
‘To who?’
‘To Christie, about the snacks.’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t want to rock the boat. If the other kids she’s looking after are eating, it will be hard on Beth and Archie not to have the same. Besides, they come out of school ravenous. Maybe we should try giving them dinner a bit later.’
‘All right. Let’s do that. There’s some pasta in the bowl for you.’ He nods to the worktop by the window.
‘Thanks.’ I glance at the dish. The penne has bloated in the sauce and dried at the edges where it has been left uncovered. My stomach growls, a hollow sound, but the last thing I want to do is eat.
‘Do you want me to heat it up?’ he asks.
‘Thanks, but I grabbed something from the cafeteria on my break.’ It’s a lie. I’ve barely sat down, barely had time for a glass of water let alone food, but the chew and swallow effort feels too much.
‘How did the viewings go?’ I ask, rubbing my fingers into the muscles of my lower back.
‘Really well. One was a couple looking to start a family and one was a single dad with older kids at secondary school. They liked the high ceilings and the work we’ve done.’
It was Stuart’s idea to knock through the kitchen, dining room and living room to make one huge space going from the front of the house all the way to the back. The sofas and television are at the front, then there are the bookshelves and a log burner in the middle with two armchairs, and finally the kitchen, with bi-fold doors opening up into the garden. With a park across the road, the garden can be forgiven for being small. The rose bushes we planted a decade ago are neglected and overgrown, but beautiful with their yellow blooms.
The upstairs feels smaller, more cramped. Three bedrooms and just one bathroom. We had a buyer pull out last month because the master bedroom didn’t have its own bathroom. They went for one of the new builds on the outskirts of town. Small rooms and thin walls, but triple the number of bathrooms.
I used to love our house, our home. I loved how central we were – a short walk to the beach and the seafront, fifteen minutes into town, a park right across the street. But now all I feel in this house is exposed. There are just too many shop doorways, parked cars and trees for you to lurk by.
Stuart stands, pulling me into his arms and kissing my neck. ‘What happened today?’ he asks, his breath warm on my skin.
Easy tears spill from my eyes as I take Stuart through everything you’ve done to me today, from thedoll’s head on the doorstep to the voice whispering my name.
‘Oh babe,’ he says when I’m done. ‘You should’ve phoned me this morning.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ruin your day with worry. It’s not like there’s anything you could’ve done.’
‘Well, what can I do now? Hot bath? Glass of wine? Foot massage? After the bath of course. I know what your feet are like after a day at work.’
I laugh and swipe at his arm. ‘Oi.’
We pull apart and I wipe the tears away, feeling better for Stuart’s support.
‘A herbal tea and bed is probably the answer,’ I say.
‘Coming right up.’
‘Oh no you don’t.’ I push him away from the kettle. ‘You never leave the tea bag in for long enough. I’ll do it.’
‘Suit yourself.’ He flashes me his lopsided smile before stepping back to the dishwasher and finishing the tidying.
‘How was your day?’ I ask. ‘Did the plumbers turn up on time?’ I flick the switch on the kettle and open the cupboard in search of my favourite mug with the spots on that Beth and Archie gave me for Mother’s Day a few years ago.
And that’s when I see the doll.
My hand hovers in mid-air as my mind tries to catch up with what my body seems to already know. A chill brushes over my skin. You’ve been in my house. You’ve been in my kitchen, you’ve stood exactly where I am standing.
This isn’t happening. I blink, willing my eyes to be tricking me. They’re not.
