‘It’s on Sunday.’
‘Course it is! Ah, that’s a shame, Mum. I’m afraid we can’t make Sunday. Evie has a match, and then a classmate’s birthday party that I’ve already replied to, and Archie has got a work thing. I’m guttedbecause we are free onSaturday, nothing in the diary, but Sunday is tricky.’ She pulled a face, knowing she was going to hell.
‘Oh well, that’s wonderful. I was just about to say that his birthday is on Sunday, but we’re going on Saturday, so I’ll let your sister know. That’s so great, little dove. I know your dad will be over the moon!’
Her mouth moved, but she couldn’t think of a way out of it, having already stitched herself up like a kipper.
‘Brilliant.’ She closed her eyes briefly. Already trying to think of how to sell it to Archie, who had never been that enamoured with Midge, who was, he felt, a little rough around the edges.
‘It’ll be lovely for the kids to spend some time together.’
‘Yep.’ She took a deep breath, trying and failing to feel enthusiasm for the whole event that meant a four-hour round tripifthe roads were kind. And the thought of Evie spending time with Bertie, who might be the same age, but was – how to phrase it politely? – dancing to his own tune, and Harper, who just seemed moody ...
‘Hang on a mo.’ Ashleigh heard her mother pull away from the phone, briefly. ‘She’s coming! I told you she would.’ Her joyful tone was enough to swamp her with guilt. ‘You on your way to work?’
‘Yes, well, trying to. I can’t find anywhere to park.’
Her mum laughed loudly. ‘You funny little thing. Can’t find anywhere to park in that big city! Why don’t you pop the car in one of the side roads near your office?’
Now why didn’t I think of that?Her mum’s lack of understanding of what life in the crowded capital could be like was both endearing and frustrating.
‘That’s a good idea.’ She sat back in the seat and took another deep breath.
‘Speak soon, darling.’
‘Yep, speak soon.’
It always had a strange effect on her, hearing her mother’s voice, a reminder of that slower, simpler life that meant time for cups of tea, popping in and out, and even meeting for pub lunches in town. A life that hadn’t felt like hers for the longest time, not since she’d taken up her place at St. Jude’s, when she’d had to adapt to fit in. The trouble was, and what she hadn’t banked on, was that changing shape to fit into her new life at school had meant she no longer quite fitted in at home.
Already late, she abandoned the car in Sainsbury’s car park and ran as fast as her Choos would allow her, all the way to the office, arriving with a red face, hair that was less than pristine, the desire for a shower, aching feet, and horribly squished toes.
Guy, she could see, was leaning forward at his desk, talking earnestly to the man in the chair in front of him. The man who owned the big house on Hartington Road. The man who had quibbled over the asking price. The man who drove a shiny Mercedes. The man who wore a striped red-and-blue beanie hat.
Shit!Her mouth felt sticky with nerves, and she cursed her quick-tempered and terrible reaction to the man earlier.
‘Here she is.’ Guy stood to introduce her.
The man turned to face her, his deadpan expression filling her with relief – he didn’t recognise her!Phew!
‘I am so sorry for my lateness, the traffic is foul! Absolutely foul! I’m Ashleigh, Ashleigh Fitch, Guy’s business partner.’
The man stood and reached for her outstretched hand, shaking it gently.
‘I’m the beanie-wearing dickhead.’ He stared at her. ‘Mrbeanie-wearing dickhead.’
Guy shot her a look that spoke of his confusion. Her blood ran cold.
Not for the first time that day, Ashleigh felt a little lost for words and a little stitched up like a kipper ... although this time,she had no one to blame but herself, as it had been her who was holding the needle.
Remy
Remy pulled the car on to the narrow drive behind Midge’s van and ratcheted up the hand brake. It seemed that every light in their new-build house was on, and she smiled, imagining what her dad would say: ‘Looks like Blackpool bloody Illuminations! What are you, made of money?’ This would no doubt be followed by his detailed observations on the concrete that made up their driveway and the general construction of their home. It was his obsession.
He had been on first-name terms with the team who had laid the foundations and screeded the driveway, watching the house rise in a matter of weeks, keen to tell anyone who would listen that this was his daughter’s plot, waiting for them on the pavement like a proud father, to smile, nod and thank them for a job well done. He’d been a little devastated when they finally moved in and the team moved on. It made her smile even now.
How she loved this moment in her day, knowing her family, bar Sophie of course, were all safe and sound inside, feeling smug at having completed her double shift with satisfied tiredness clinging to her limbs, keen to walk into the chaos and hear about everyone’s day.
Her phone flashed with a message from her mother.
