So, it’s heartening to see Julia and Adrian talking about his breakdown. She’s sitting next to him on the sofa, looking neat as always in her Boden blouse and jeans.
I can hear his voice, loud and clear, from the other side of the room, and wonder if it’s for Nathan’s benefit. ‘I’m writing and I like to do bits around the house. I helped refurbish it. It’s good for me, working with my hands.’
‘And the antidepressants? Are they helping?’ She has on her GP face.
His answer is considered. ‘Yes. After trial and error.’
She flashes him one of her megawatt smiles and I suddenly have an image of her in her consulting room, putting patients at ease. I can imagine that’s what attracted Nathan to her. After his traumatic start in life – although he claims not to remember any of it – Julia was a stable, loving influence. And in him she saw vulnerability, someone she could nurture and protect.
Nathan is now rolling around with the girls on the floor. Amelia is climbing on him and Evie is trying to grab his leg. My eyes flicker to Adrian sitting stiffly next to Julia. He’s talking to her but I can see that he’s watching them out of the corner of his eye, jaw set, face grave. It must be hard for him. Since his breakdown he’s lost the connection he used to have with the girls. He tries, but it doesn’t seem to come naturally to him any more. I know it worries him. That was another reason for the move, so he could spend more time with his children. Although he seems to have forgotten about that, with all the writing he’s doing.
‘Evie. Amelia. Leave your uncle alone.’
The girls stop, shocked by Adrian’s sharp tone, it’s so unusual. Nathan sits up, patting down his dark blond hair. ‘They’re all right.’
‘No. It’s too much before bedtime,’ insists Adrian, his voice curt.
I have to bite my lip to stop myself saying something as Nathan gets to his feet, dusting down his jeans. There are bits of new carpet fluff stuck to his knees. Amelia’s face falls. It was the happiest I’d seen her in ages. I want to intervene but I can’t undermine Adrian in front of everyone.
Adrian gets up too. ‘Come on,’ he says to the girls. ‘Let’s go and find Nana to say goodnight. It’s getting late.’
‘It’s not fair,’ wails Amelia. ‘It’s half-term tomorrow. We don’t have to get up early.’
Adrian ignores her and ushers them from the room.
Nathan looks towards me and shrugs. ‘What did I do?’
‘It’s not you. Adrian’s finding his feet with the girls again, that’s all.’
Nathan flops down on the sofa next to Julia and rests his head on her shoulder.
‘Get off.’ She gently pushes him away. ‘You’re all sweaty.’
Nathan laughs and is about to say something when his eyes go to the doorway and the words die on his lips. I turn to see what he’s looking at. Selena is standing there, her eyes locked with his. They’re both wearing the same expression: a mixture of horror and … something I can’t read. I expect her to join us, but she turns away and heads towards her room.
15
One day before
Adrian’s made a good job of the lock. It took him most of yesterday afternoon to do it, but he didn’t even moan that it took him away from his writing. I think he finds it therapeutic to get involved with a task.
Evie keeps the key within reach on her bedside table so that she doesn’t wake Amelia if she wants us in the night. We’ve also got a spare as an extra precaution – Adrian says it’s over the top but it makes me feel better. I know Mum will think we’re pandering to Evie but I want her to feel secure and safe. It could just be her age – when Amelia was little she hated going upstairs on her own. I’m confident Evie will stop being scared once she’s used to living here.
But at three a.m. I’m woken by sniffling coming from across the landing, and know that Evie’s crying. I creep to the girls’ room with the spare key and gently open the door. ‘I’m scared,’ she whimpers. I put my finger to my lips so that she knows not to wake Amelia, and, leaving her key beside her bed, I lead her from the room and lock the door behind us. I feel guilty that we’ve left Amelia alone, although she’s oblivious in sleep. I’d prefer to scoop them both up and keep them with me. Safe.
It’s still dark when I get up, ready to make ten breakfasts.
We share a bathroom with Mum and the girls so I gather up my wash things and clothes and tiptoe out of the room. Evie, sound asleep, shuffles further into Adrian. He grunts something about his back hurting but instantly falls asleep again. I pause at the bedroom door, looking at my sleeping husband, and wonder if I’m being a walkover. Should I make him get up and help with the breakfasts? If he doesn’t want to be sociable he can hide in the kitchen. I worry he spends too much time up here, alone. It can’t be good for his mental state. He needs to interact with people.
Halfway down the stairs I stop to look out of the picture window. Adrian took photos of the magnificent view for our website. Beyond the rows of houses there are just fields, hills and mountains as far as the eye can see. The sky is lighter now, with grey angry clouds bunched over the largest mountain. The locals call it the Sugarloaf.
My chest feels tight. I wonder if it’s stress. I realize I left my inhaler upstairs so I go down to the Welsh dresser in the living room. I have a few planted around the house. But when I open the drawer it’s gone. I look in all the other drawers but there’s no sign of it. Puzzled, I run back upstairs for the one I’d left on my bedside table, then down again to the kitchen.
I suddenly remember it’s Mum’s birthday. I still haven’t had the chance to go out and get her something. In London, I would have bought her present and card the week before so it would arrive on her birthday. But I’ve been so busy – I haven’t had a moment to myself since we moved in.
Mum’s hunched over a frying-pan, pushing at two fried eggs with a spatula.
‘Happy birthday,’ I say, going over to her and kissing her cheek.
