‘I mean, with the mutism,’ he interrupted me. ‘Situational mutism can be a manifestation of social anxiety, and that’s come from somewhere.’
I immediately felt guilty. I was seeing Isobel as an obstacle, something that had to be dealt with in order for me to earn my money, not as a human being with an actual past and present. ‘Oh. Yes, of course.’ I thought for a moment. ‘She told me her father had been a mining engineer in South Africa.’
‘Anything else?’
I thought again. ‘No. She neverseemsanxious though. She’s hardly scuttling off to hide from us, is she?’
‘No, but she’s had years to learn a way of coping. And perhaps she can cope a little when it’s on a one-to-one basis. We’ve not seen her in a crowd, have we?’ Ross raised his eyes and stared thoughtfully back towards Elm Cottage. ‘Isobel practically has “mysterious past” written all over her. Or written on one of her pieces of paper anyway.’ He smiled and again I was struck by how much a smile lifted his face and smoothed the lines of his own anxiety away.
‘And she could sell those diamonds and live a life of luxury.’ I looked back at the slowly collapsing roofline of Elm Cottage and then down over the gappy brickwork and flimsy windows. In the open doorway, Isobel was, once again, watching us. There was a bird on her shoulder, bent as though it were whispering into her ear, and I shivered.
‘Maybe they’re fake. Maybe she sold the real ones years ago and she doesn’t want to admit it. Or perhaps she wants to hold on to her last memories of her father.’ Ross followed my line of sight and we both watched Isobel, watching us.
‘Or she doesn’t knowhowto sell them and doesn’t want to get ripped off. After all, someone could tell her that they’re only worth a few hundred pounds – would she know any different?’
‘Wouldyouwant to argue with Isobel?’
I looked again at that figure, padded by clothing and wearing the sleek feathers of the crow as though it were an animated ornament. ‘No,’ I said, with feeling. ‘I absolutely wouldn’t.’
‘Well then.’ Now Ross turned to help me with my continuing bramble problem. ‘What are you up to now?’
‘I’m trying to get out of this undergrowth,’ I said, although I realised what he was really asking. I wasn’t quite sure how I wanted to answer him. There was something very companionable about Ross, with his occasional quiet competency and sheer ordinariness amid the tangle of flailing terrors that was my life.
‘I meant right now. Next. Having spoken to Isobel, you were going to…?’
‘Oh.’ I formulated my reply. I didn’t want to sound as though I wanted to spend more time with him, even though I was realising that I actuallydid. ‘I have to go and look for work again. And then there’s Tilly to collect from nursery.’
He’d pushed his hands into his pockets again and his shoulders were up around his ears. ‘Why not come with me? I’ve got to go and sort out the gang of builders I’ve got lined up – now Isobel is starting to think about going I can let them have my up-to-date plans.’
‘Well, I…’ My phone, deep in my pocket, pinged with the arrival of a text and that little block of tension that lived under my ribs and kept me connected to my daughter at all times, flared into life.Tilly. An accident. Hospital. Illness. Be there.‘I’m sorry,’ I apologised to Ross as I dug into the depths of used tissues and lip balm, random plasters and some loose jelly sweets. ‘I just need to check this.’
‘Of course.’ He stood hopefully at my elbow as I retrieved my phone and opened the screen.
A number I didn’t know. A text.
I want to see my daughter.
I flung the phone as far away from me as I could, and burst into tears.
15
‘Stop trying to rescue me!’ I sobbed, while Ross patted me gently and kept trying to put my muddy mobile into my hand. ‘I’m fine! I don’t… need…saving.’
‘Well, obviously,’ he said, continuing to pat my back as I wept copiously against his shoulder. ‘Your hard-headed approach to a text is sending me that message loud and clear.’
I sniffed generously and raised my head to give him a stern look. ‘Are you being sarcastic?’
‘Trying to, yes. It’s one of the approaches my therapist taught me. Anyway, I’m done with trying to save people; nobody ever appreciates it and I’m only ever left in the dust while the person I’ve tried to save goes galloping over the horizon, usually with the person I’m trying to help save themfrom.’
I wiped my eyes on the back of my hand and then, furtively, wiped my nose too. ‘I don’t need saving,’ I said again, more strongly this time. ‘The text just caught me by surprise, that’s all.’
‘Your ex has your number though?’ Ross gradually let go of me. ‘Why? How?’
‘He’s still paying for my contract,’ I admitted. ‘I thought he’d stop, and I’d be buggered then because I need a phone and I can’t afford one myself. But he’s kept it up, probably so he always knows where to find me. I mean, I blocked his number and everything, but he gets new ones and every so often he tries a message to see if it will get through.’
Ross raised an eyebrow. ‘Clearly, it does. I suppose he has a right to see his daughter.’
I couldn’t think straight. All I could remember were those terrifying days with a tiny baby and being suspected, followed,scrutinisedeverywhere I went. As though the David I had fallen in love with had vanished and been replaced by an alien who needed to watch my every movement to learn how to ‘human’.
