Megan scooped him up off the beanbag where he’d fallen asleep with his painting in his hand, just over an hour ago. She wasn’t supposed to let him sleep so close to home time but then again, she was now doing overtime.
‘You still here?’ Mrs Andrews, her manager, walked by with the large bunch of keys, ready to lock up for the night. Her little round spectacles almost bounced on her nose as she spoke.
Megan wondered if Mrs Andrews’s scoop cut had ever been in fashion. If she curled it slightly, like the curls they had in the fifties, just maybe it would look good. Second thoughts, she should let it grow and go for a side parting just like Megan had done. The children loved her pink wavy hair. ‘Susan hasn’t come to pick this little man up yet, has she, Rory?’ She popped the toddler on her knee and soothed him as his shrieks simmered into occasional whimpers. ‘He’s missing his mummy, aren’t you?’
‘I should give her a call. It’s not like her to be late.’ Mrs Andrews pulled out her old Nokia, the type of phone that did nothing more than make phone calls. A few seconds later, she shrugged and hung up. ‘No answer. She must be driving.’ She walked over to the window as she placed the phone into her deep cardigan pocket and gazed out through the smeared glass.
Megan checked her own phone. There was a message from Danny. She needed to be out of here and on her way to Redditch for their cinema night. She’d hoped to be able to pop home and change but that wasn’t going to happen. She sniffed her jumper – aroma of biscuit and baby sick. It was Susan’s fault she’d end up going out that night stinking like crèche.
Danny had promised her something scary to watch after they’d been for a nosh-up. ‘I really have to get out of here soon, Mrs Andrews. I have to get to Redditch for seven, I’ve not even changed, I stink and I’m already late.’
‘I’m sorry, Megan. I need you here until she arrives.’
‘But—’
‘But nothing. Your contract states that this can happen sometimes. You’ll get overtime. I’ll keep calling her.’ The woman turned on her ballet pumps before Megan could reply.
The unpredictability of what came with the job had ruined her plans on a few occasions. She grabbed her phone and messaged her boyfriend.
She cuddled Rory as he began to suck his thumb and close his eyes. The painting of Susan dropped to the floor. It was true that the job wasn’t all she wanted it to be, but holding Rory in her arms as she soothed him made everything feel a little better. If only all the children were as lovely as he was. ‘You’re tired still, aren’t you, little man?’ Wisps of dark curls covered his olive-skinned forehead; he looked so much like his mother. His cheeks, red from crying, had puffed out more prominently than usual. Mrs Andrews hurried back in, making sure all the windows were locked.
Megan imagined Susan hurrying through the door, apologising and flapping as she tried to balance everything in her arms. She always looked stressed, that would be nothing new.
‘Still no word, I’m afraid.’ Mrs Andrews bustled past and began closing the curtains, before looping her scarf around her neck.‘There’s a heavy frost building up out there tonight.’ She shivered.
‘Do you think she’s okay?’ Megan placed the now sleeping toddler back on the beanbag. He stirred and grimaced as she moved her arm from under his neck. He nestled his head deeper into the material as Megan covered him with his favourite blanket. She loved to see the children sleeping, that’s when they were at their quietest. Parents didn’t like it. They expected nursery staff like her to spend all day in the fast lane, wearing their little ones out, ready for them to be taken home and put straight to bed.
Mrs Andrews tutted and lifted the curtain slightly, gazing at every car that passed. ‘I don’t know, it’s not like her though. I’ll go and check out her file. I think we have the grandmother’s number. I’m so sorry about this.’
Megan sighed, knowing that her evening was now a write-off. She wished Mrs Andrews had been more hands-on with the kids but she stayed in her office, penned up behind a closed door; all day, every day. Megan grabbed the last crayon, threw it in the box and placed the lid on it, hoping that Rory’s grandmother would hurry up.
Rory made a cute sucking noise as he fell deeper into slumber. She checked her watch again. She knew Susan was going through a lot, her divorce wasn’t a secret, but something didn’t sit well with Megan. Susan always held Rory like he was fragile. The way she smiled when he called her from the other end of the nursery really gave her a fuzzy feel. Now she thought about it, Susan hadn’t called for a couple of hours. Susan always called, fussing about how her son was, wanting to know that he was happy. She shrugged, maybe it was nothing. Maybe Susan was simply running late. She shivered as she stroked the little boy’s head. ‘Mummy will be here soon.’
Two
Wednesday, 13 November 2019
Mary walked her crying grandson around the small cottage to the background tones of ‘Baby Shark’ – a song that was increasingly getting on her nerves. ‘Shush, Rory. Mummy will be back soon.’ She wished she believed what she was saying. Since the phone call from Rory’s nursery last night, she’d been looking after her grandson and calling Susan on constant redial. Her stomach fluttered just like back then, all those years ago.
Toys littered every room, toys that she and Howard really had no room for after downsizing.
She noticed that the front door was open. Mary picked up Rory and ran into the hallway. It had to be Susan. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
Howard popped his head around the corner of his study, threw a few computer leads onto his desk and came back out. His mop of grey hair flopped forward over his eyes as he rubbed his stubbly chin. ‘You alright, love? I had to grab a few cables for one of my jobs.’ He smiled at Rory and pinched his chubby cheek. ‘Heard anything yet?’
Tears slid down Rory’s red cheeks, his curls sodden and stuck to his face. Howard stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes and Rory broke into a chuckle.
‘No. I’m worried about her.’ Mary stared at the top of the little boy’s head and hugged him closely as once again he began to cry.
‘I know you are, love. Let’s just try not to jump to conclusions though. We know how stressed she’s been. Shall I take him while you try to call her again?’ He took the crying toddler from her and set him on his feet, pulling another face. Rory tried to hide his smile, tears instantly forgotten. Mary loved how the grandchildren’s faces always lit up when they saw Howard pulling one of his many silly faces. ‘I tell you what, I’ll pour us a glass of wine, shall I? Shall we get Nanny a glass of red?’ Rory nodded and dragged Howard towards the kitchen as he sucked on his knuckle.
She shook her head. ‘Best not. Just take him to the kitchen for a minute. I’m calling the police.’
‘We’ve been through this, Mum,’ Clare said as she breezed past, holding a tub of ice cream with a spoon sticking out of the top. ‘It’s only been a day and it’s not like this is a first, remember.’
The lounge door burst open and Mary felt as though her head might explode as‘Baby Shark’could be heard at full volume. Clare’s toddler, Harrison, danced and screamed. ‘Ice cream, ice cream. I want some. Mummy, ice cream!’ He reached up to grab the spoon, knocking it flying across the hallway, splattering a dollop up the magnolia wall. As the song came to an end, Harrison turned back to the lounge, staring at the television. ‘Again, Mummy. “Baby Shark”!’
Mary shook her head. After coming back to the family home a year earlier, her oldest daughter had turned her peaceful haven upside down. Harrison never slept or settled and the noise was constant, even leading to her neighbours complaining. Mary slammed the lounge door as Harrison stepped back into the room. ‘She’s not answering her phone and she hasn’t been in touch for a whole day. She wouldn’t abandon Rory. I should have called them yesterday. What the hell was I thinking?’
