‘You think I’m jealous?’ Her voice had gone up an octave; it was ugly, unattractive, and entirely possible. It was a horrible thought that she might be reeling from no longer being Guy’s number one. Not that she had ever wanted him in that way, never. But it really wasn’t that complicated when she analysed it; Guy had been the person whosawher, invited her to join the gang, caring less about who she was, or how she had got there. He had simply included her the moment he’d met her, and yes, loved her, he had lovedher!He had picked her on merit, and it was the first time since starting St. Jude’s that she didn’t feel she had to fight for approval or friendship; he had simply offered it. To have it withdrawn even only slightlymade her feel just like that young girl with the fear of exposure jumping in her gut every time someone called her name.
‘Maybe, or a little oversensitive.’ He sipped his gin.
‘I don’t want to be.’ She pushed out her bottom lip, feeling vulnerable and slightly ashamed, wanting Archie to see her as strong and capable, all the things he and the Fitches most admired.
You can’t underestimate the importance of independence and self-reliance, strength, especially when there’s a crisis. It’s the difference between surviving or sinking. I learned that ...
‘I know, but it’s human nature, a fragile thing.’
‘Alright, sensei. When did you get so philosophical?’
‘Hello, Mummy.’
She spun around at the sound of her daughter’s voice. There she was, not asleep. Ashleigh was aware she needed to say ...something!
‘Hi, Evie, how are you?’ Her tone was overly enthusiastic, false and jarring.
‘’M okay.’ Her daughter shrugged and walked over to Archie before leaning on his leg. ‘I’m tired, Dad.’
She noted the physical interaction between the two, he so comfortable with the child resting on him as Evie leaned, trusting him to catch her if she fell. It was an ease Ashleigh didn’t feel, often a little awkward, self-conscious when Evie was close to her in this way, as if the child were, in so many ways, a stranger. She wished it were different, wished she could reach for Evie’s hand and hold it tightly in the way she saw Archie do, wished she weren’t so overly aware, so hesitant, nervous with a ridiculous and misplaced embarrassment that she didn’t know how to overcome, and a horrible feeling in her gut that she was a fraud and didn’t deserve any of this lovely life. Waiting, waiting for that instant and glorious maternal bond to kick in. She hoped it might happen soon, for all their sakes.
‘You want me to carry you up to bed before I go out?’ Archie put the empty glass in the sink.
Their daughter nodded and rubbed her eyes. ‘Marguerite is cleaning my bathroom.’
‘Oh, well, she can head off, now I’m home.’ Ashleigh smiled brightly, falsely.
‘I wish she could stay with me sometimes,’ Evie added quite nonchalantly, as Archie lifted her on to his arm, words that Ashleigh found hard to hear because Marguerite was only there when she wasn’t, and if Evie wanted Marguerite to be there more, then ... was Evie saying she’d rather Ashleigh wasn’t at home? Again, she smiled broadly lest she give away her thoughts, knowing she had to keep that oversensitive, green-eyed monster at bay. To keep smiling, to stop her mask from slipping and revealing to the whole wide world that she was an imposter.
‘Sleep tight, Evie.’ Her words were a little calmer now.
Her daughter stared at her over her dad’s shoulder as he carried her from the kitchen. Ashleigh lifted her hand in a small wave, wanting so badly for the child to wave back.
She didn’t, and the absence of it sent a shard of glass to pierce her heart.
‘Yep.’ Ashleigh spoke to no one as she opened the fridge door and reached for the hummus. ‘A bit of a shitty day.’
Remy
Remy ran the washcloth over her face, and was, as ever, slightly icked out by the grime and sludge-coloured mascara smears that she transferred from her face.
‘I know I need to be more patient, but Mum really annoyed me today.’ She leaned out of the tiny en suite and spoke to Midge, who was already in bed, flicking through the channels of the TVon the wall, no doubt trying to find any of the sports that were his preoccupation.
‘That’s not news. She annoys you every day,’ he pointed out without lifting his eyes from the screen.
‘True. I guess I should have said she annoyed me more than usual today.’
‘What did she do, promise you decent spuds and then at the last minute swerve on the deal and give you oven chips?’
She angled her head and stared at him. ‘No, but if she had and did so at the end of a very trying day with only the smallest amount of energy left for the task in hand, then I’d have absolutely forgiven her, because I’d think she was doing her best and, in fact, I’d be grateful for her cooking me anything at all, smartarse.’
‘Oooo-oooh! Someone’s tetchy!’ He gave her that grin, the one that spoke of love and attraction and she knew was just for her. It was his superpower and could disarm her with no more than a glance, a word, a kiss.
‘Moving on.’ She turned back to the mirror and tilted her face to the right to better see the healed wounds that marked her.
Oi!
This was the sound, the gunshot that still echoed in her thoughts and had the power to pull her under into a nightmare or to leave her shaking on a sunny day when she was safe. A powerful sound that had changed the course of her life, and Tony’s.
