Thatis what I hate Dan’sex-wife and my daughter’s birth mother for: not caring whether she hurts my precious Lexi or not.
Why does Lexi not realise that this woman she is now interested in has no interest in her? Lexi was two when she came to live with us and since then, Elisa has barely seen her.Shehas not comforted a screaming and itchy Lexi when she got chickenpox or cheered her on at schoolthree-legged races or spent hours making princess hats out of toilet roll cardboards, glitter glue and tinsel for the school play.
I did. I have been there for all the good times and the bad, and she is my precious darling.
But Lexi’s not thinking of any of this.
‘I’ll WhatsApp her now,’ she says, delightedly, and races off with the newspaper to her room.
My mother’s eyes meet mine but for once, I find no comfort in her gaze.
I look down at the little china cup, broken now.
‘Will you show me the garden?’ Mum asks, taking the broken china out of my hands.
I shake my head. ‘Give me a moment,’ I blurt out.
My mother is so wise that Scarlett, Maura and I think she is a witch. One who helps, like the witches and wise women of old, rather than themade-up ones in horror movies.
‘Elisa will come into your lives again in the future,’ she told me once, a long time ago.
‘Never,’ I’d said. ‘Anything could have happened that day in the restaurant. I can never forgive her for that. Besides, she’s gone off to Spain.’
My mother had reached over and taken both my hands, which were shaking at the very mention of Lexi’s birth mother.
‘She might never come back but one day, Lexi will seek her out. Children want to see their birth parents: it’s natural. You have to be ready for that.’
’Lexi won’t ...’ I began, feeling my chest swell with anger and fear.
‘She will, lovie. Children need to search for who they are and that’s no criticism of the parents who raised them. Remember, no matter how much you want life to be simple, it never is,’ Mum had said.
I didn’t answer. Itwassimple. Elisa had walked away: end of story.
Except now, she was back.
The simple life wasPinterest-happy:dance like nobody’s watching. Damn that crap. Who has the energy or the heart to bloody dance at all? And if anyone gives me a lemon, I’ll hurl it at them so hard it’ll take an eye out. Lemonade, my backside.
Finally, we make it into the garden: just the two of us. Scarlett and Maura are taking care of Granny and Eddie, and clearing the table after the impromptu feast.
‘Why now?’ I say, ripping the head off a flower viciously.
‘Hollyhock,’ says my mother, automatically, scanning the flowerbeds. ‘I’ll buy you secateurs and you can have cut flowers in the house.’
‘I haven’t time,’ I mutter. ‘I have to go back to work, try to sort out the house when I get time and be ready with plans for the kids for the summer holidays.’
‘Of course, love,’ says my mother, who is one of the few individuals on the planet who knows how to change the conversation when it is too painful, when the other person needs time to think. ‘Eddie’s probably wheedling more drink out of Dan. Time to get them both home.’
When everyone’s gone, Dan and I decide that we’ll order up pizza for dinner.
We sit at our old kitchen table while Teddy eats the ham and the crusts from her mini pizza, complaining that she can’t possibly eat the rest because she now hates tomatoes. ‘They’re too squidgy,’ she announces crossly.
Lexi ignores theno-phones-at-the-table rule to search up mentions of Elisa and Surella.
I can’t tell her to put the phone away. I am afraid to speak about Elisa beause I am terrified that if I talk, a monster will emerge.
‘Eat up, Lexi, honey,’ I say instead, and Dan stares at me, dark eyes slightly narrowed.
‘You OK?’ he mouths.
