‘Mummy’s leaving, darling.’
‘’Kay.’ She didn’t look up from the screen.
‘Marguerite will be here any second and Daddy’s in the kitchen.’
‘Yep.’ Evie inserted her index finger into her nose. Ashleigh looked away.
It was another ritual that felt a little pointless, her explaining to her daughter every morning when she was leaving, where everyone was, as the child seemed to pay her no attention. A throwback no doubt to her own childhood, when it had always felt important to Ashleigh to know these things. Although, in fairness, in her parents’ small home she had always known where everyone was as she could either see or hear them, but still.
‘I shall try and be home before supper, and we can have a chat then. How does that sound?’
‘Good.’ Evie laughed then, not at her, but at one of the high-kicking ninjas who had fallen on his bottom with an accompanying wail of distress that made her ears ring.
She left her to it, unsure what to say next, what to do next, aware of the invisible barrier that made her hold back and which had always been there. It was her secret shame. And it wasn’t that she didn’t love the child, she did, woulddiefor her! But that didn’t mean she was comfortable with her or knew how to be one of those mums who grabbed their kids and wrapped them in love.
‘Morning!’ Marguerite hung her coat on the stand in the vestibule, removed her book from the pocket, and slipped out of her Ugg boots, which she paired and placed by the front door.Revolting, sloppy things, Ashleigh thought, and knew she wouldn’t be seen dead in them.
‘Morning, Marguerite. What are you reading?’
‘The Lovely Bones, by Alice Sebold.’ Their housekeeper held up the pale-blue cover.
‘Ooh, what’s it about? I don’t have time to read, so I have to live my reading life vicariously through you!’ There was the undeniable throb of sadness in her breast at this truth.
‘It’s about a girl who has been raped and murdered and she watches her friends and family from heaven and sees what happens next. It’s beautiful.’
‘Oh!’ It wasn’t quite what she had expected. ‘It sounds ... anyway, only Evie for supper. Archie is out for dinner, and I’ll probably just grab some crackers or whatever’s in the fridge.’
It was partly how she kept trim, not sitting down for big meals. It also meant less time wasted when she could be catching up on work admin.
‘Okay.’ Marguerite smiled. ‘Have a lovely day.’
‘Yep, she’s in the den, watching that awful cartoon. She’s had a croissant.’
‘I’ll turn it off.’ The woman spoke matter-of-factly and without the guilt that would have made the task almost impossible for Ashleigh. ‘She needs to read to me before we go to school.’
‘Right.’ Ashleigh nodded and swallowed the uncomfortable lump at the base of her throat.
It had been easy for her to conceive, she’d had a dream pregnancy and the birth was straightforward. Her heart lurched for all those she read about or knew personally who struggled with all three. What she could never confess was that the conception, pregnancy, and birth had actually been the easy bits. It was all the stuff that came after she struggled with, caring for and spending time with a child she had nothing in common with. It was a mystery to her, how at ease Remy was with all three of her kids. Ashleigh knew she didn’t fare well in comparison to her sister, the brilliant homemaker. The one doctor she had confided in had told her that it would happen in time; the bonding, the love, the emotional investment.
Well, her little girl was now six years old, and she was still waiting.
What shehadn’ttold the doctor was that as for so many aspects of her life, she just didn’t feel like she deserved to be amum to a fabulous kid like Evie, and there it was, that tingling in her limbs and a feeling of being so overwhelmed, she thought she might topple.
Remy
Remy made the mistake of answering the call from her mother as she pulled into the business park.
‘Remy, are you there, love?’
‘Yes, sorry, was just parking the car.’ She locked her Vauxhall Corsa and shoved the keys in her handbag, staring at the building, knowing she had eight minutes to get inside and log on, her Nokia now resting under her chin.
‘It’s me, it’s Mum.’
‘Yep, I’ve told you before, Mum, your name comes up, so before I even answer I know it’s you!’
‘Yes, that’s right. Anyway ...’ Her mum began to talk so slowly that Remy felt her blood speed up in her veins. She needed to get to her chair and get that computer fired up. ‘... So, do you remember I told you last week about the newspaper going astray? Well, it turns out that the lad who delivers it has been dropping it at Mrs McFarland’s. I asked her if he had, but she shook her head and trundled indoors, but I said to your dad, Mrs McFarland only usually hasThe People’s Friendand her hands had looked suspiciously full as I chatted to her—’
She cut her mother short. ‘Mum, I don’t want to be rude, but I have to go inside and start my shift. Is everything okay? I told Midge about the outside tap.’ She tried to pre-empt the reason for the call with the sole purpose of hurrying things along. ‘He’ll either get to it today or tomorrow or the weekend and he’ll let you know later about picking Bertie up.’
