‘I want to come and live with you,’ Autumn said.
‘Erm. Why?’
Autumn aimed another kick and connected with the table leg this time. She winced but didn’t say anything. Really not her usual behaviour.
‘Why, Autumn?’ Evie repeated.
‘Have you seen Mummy crying?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t like it when she cries.’ Autumn kicked again.
‘Oh, Autumn.’ Evie wanted tokilltheir mum. This hadn’t been okay when Evie was little and it wasn’t okay for Autumn now. ‘Come and sit on my lap for a minute.’
‘I can’t. We’re in a restaurant.’
‘It’ll be okay. Come on.’
Autumn walked round the table and got onto Evie’s lap. Evie wrapped her arms round her like she could shield her from the rest of the world like that.
‘You know what,’ Evie said into Autumn’s hair.
‘What?’
‘Um.’ Evie didn’t actually know. What could you say to comfort a child when their mother cried? She’d never told anyone about it when she was little. In fact, she didn’t really talk about it now either. ‘Basically, yes, it does feel rubbish when your mummy’s sad. But luckily, you don’t just have Mummy, you’ve got me too, and I’m not sad, am I? So maybe if Mummy gets sad you can talk to me. But hopefully Mummy won’t get sad again. And she’s probably feeling much better now. It was probably just one of those things like how you kind of wanted to cry when you kicked the table too hard just then, didn’t you?’
‘I don’t think she hurt herself. I think it was because Richard was mean to her.’
‘Yeah. But she’ll get better. She always does.’ And then she’d fall for the wrong man again and Autumn would get upset again. ‘Come on. Let’s read the menu together. I bet you can’t manage garlic breadandpizzaandpudding.’
Evie did Autumn’s bath and bedtime story when they got home, firstly because she adored her little sister and it was a pleasure, and secondly because their mum was still sniffling behind sunglasses.
‘Are you staying all weekend?’ Autumn asked.
‘Yes, poppet.’
‘Good. Mummy will probably have stopped crying by the time you leave.’
That was it. Evie kissed Autumn and went downstairs – angrily fast – and into the kitchen, where her mum was staring into a glass of red.
Evie walked across the room, took the glass out of her mum’s hand and poured it down the sink and said, in a hiss, but quietly, so that Autumn wouldn’t hear from upstairs, ‘If you can’t stop crying in front of Autumn, I don’t think you should drink.’
‘What? Who made you the tears and wine police?’
‘Autumn wants to come and live with me because she hates you crying every time you argue with or split up with a boyfriend. And I hated it my whole childhood too.’
Her mum’s head went back like Evie had slapped her and the colour literally drained from her cheeks.
‘God.’ All Evie’s anger evaporated all at once. ‘I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that. Mum, I’m really sorry.’
‘No.’ Her mum shook her head, slowly, and got up and went upstairs.
Evie heard her close her bedroom door. Shit.
What could you do when you’d just told someone the truth and that truth was really unpalatable? Maybe nothing.
Her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen. Matthew.
