Why do we say ‘honestly’ when we’re being anything but? I’ve always done it, especially with Mum. There is so much about me that she doesn’t know.
I wake up late the next morning. Mum is already up and the kitchen smells of bacon and toast. She tells me Rufus has gone to see Freddie to do more filming, and that she’s already taken Phoenix for a walk.
‘What time did you get up?’ I ask, as I pick up the bacon sandwich she’s prepared for me. It’s nice to be waited on for a change. I noticed she’s already unloaded and re-stacked the dishwasher.
She has a wet cloth in her hand and begins wiping down my laminate worktops. ‘I was awake at six. It’s so hot in your spare room. Couldn’t get back to sleep so came downstairs, took the dog out at about eight and bumped into your neighbour, Marielle.’ She stops wiping and looks at me, her brow furrowed. ‘They got back late last night from their Cotswold house.’
‘They have a Cotswold house?’
‘Yes, I told you that before. Weren’t you listening?’ she chides, and I grin apologetically. I was probably thinking about Charlie. Since I saw him with Rosie I’ve not been able to get him out of my mind. ‘Bourton-on-the-Water. I’ve heard it’s beautiful.’
Charlie and I took Rufus there when he was about seven and let him paddle in the river. It had been an unexpected sunny day in late September. It was just after our last failed IVF attempt. We’d run out of money and couldn’t try again. It is beautiful, but I’ll always remember how I felt that day: grateful to have Rufus, but sad we couldn’t add to the family. We never got to the bottom of why it was so easy to have one baby but never go on to get pregnant again. The doctors called it secondary infertility.
I can tell Mum is still chewing over something. ‘What is it?’
She dumps the cloth in the sink, gathers up her empty mug and goes to the kettle to make more tea. I can see beads of sweat above her eyebrows and her hair has gone fluffy with the humidity.
‘Oh, it’s nothing …’
‘Mum!’
She shakes her head as though trying to rid herself of a negative thought. Mum likes to give the impression she doesn’t bad-mouth anyone, but she loves a bit of gossip. I sit up straighter. ‘Is it the Morgans?’
‘Well, like I said, it’s probably nothing, but …’ She glances around her guiltily, as though Marielle and Henry are lurking behind the patio doors. She lowers her voice. ‘Marielle was pushing a pram. One of those old-fashioned ones. Expensive, no doubt. I asked her if it was her grandchild.’
‘Ah, yes, his name’s Arthur.’
‘Right.’ Mum grimaces. ‘But when I went to look inside the pram she got really defensive and wouldn’t let me. Said he was sleeping, which is all well and good, but what did she think I was going to do? Snatch the baby? I felt quite offended.’
‘Oh, don’t be. She did that to me too. She’s just over-protective, I think.’
Mum turns away to make her tea and a prickle of unease settles over me. ‘What?’
Mum turns back. ‘I don’t know. It’s silly, really.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, she was so weird about me looking in the pram because I might wake the baby. But the way she pushed past me and hurried on down the street, the pram was really bumping along. It would have woken the baby a lot easier than me peering inside.’
I frown. ‘True.’
‘Anyway, like you say, she’s just over-protective. Such a lovely lady,’ she says, clearly relieved that she can now rid herself of any negative thought about the Morgans.
‘Interesting she had the baby today. She told me she only looks after Arthur on a Thursday when her daughter-in-law is working. And you said they got back late last night?’ I need to listen to the tape to see if the boom microphone picked up their voices. I don’t hold out much hope. If they were going to talk about whatever they’re planning, they could have done that on the drive home.
Mum waves her hand dismissively. ‘That’s what she said. Maybe her son and daughter-in-law went with them.’ She goes back to making the tea but I’m left with a niggly feeling I can’t quite place.
11
The branch of Citizens Advice I work at is on the edge of the city, near the M32. Although there’s another office in the centre, this one is always busy, and we’ve been short-staffed since my colleague Janet retired. I’m in every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. There are only two others in the main office when I arrive. There’s a waiting room at the front and side rooms so we can talk privately to those who come in for advice. Kath and Susi are in today: Kath is a volunteer and Susi is the full-time supervisor. She’s in her mid-fifties, super-knowledgeable, efficient, and doesn’t suffer fools. She has a commanding presence, with a chin-length bob, sharp nose and watchful eyes. Kath, on the other hand, is scatty, always losing things, particularly her glasses (I once got into a car with her and was scared for my life!) and lives alone with her two cats, which she calls her fur-babies. She’s just turned sixty and has never been married or had any children. I sometimes think of Kath in her tall blue house in Totterdown with her cats, and long days spent without talking to anyone, and wonder if she ever feels lonely. But you can be lonely surrounded by people. You can be lonely in a marriage with your husband, as I’d found.
When Susi leaves the room I follow her before I lose my nerve. I find her putting out pamphlets in the waiting room.
‘Um, Susi, could I have a quick word?’ I begin.
She glares at me from behind her glasses, clutching the pamphlets to her chest. It takes a lot to get a smile out of Susi. ‘Be quick.’
‘I … er … Well, I was wondering if–’
