And just the sound of her sister and this reminder of a different time, when she had sobbed upon discovering her dad had eaten her Curly Wurly, was enough to make her smile through her tears that just kept a-comin’.
‘Nothing’s the matter!’ She sniffed.
‘Yes. Ignore me. You do actually sound on top of the world!’
Ashleigh laughed and took a deep breath. ‘Have you got a minute?’
‘For you’ – her sister spoke slowly, sincerely – ‘I have two.’
‘I don’t know what to do,’ she managed to say, her voice no more than a strangulated whisper.
‘About what, my love?’
Her sister’s sweet and empathetic tone only made her tears fall harder. It seemed that once she started talking, she couldn’t stop, and it all came pouring out.
‘About everything! I want to spend more time with Evie! I do, but it’s not easy! Archie and I hardly see each other, we’re always working, and who has a bloody baby and names it after their dog? I mean, I like the name Ben, I do, but what the hell? This ismybusiness, my thing! How can someone just dump paperwork on my desk and tell me that’s how it is? Is that right or fair?’
‘Okay.’ She heard Remy take a deep breath. ‘Let’s take this one thing at a time.’
‘Okay.’ Ashleigh wiped her face and breathed deeply. She pictured crying in the cubicle of their loo in primary school and how her sister had been there, holding her tight. This was what Remy did, made everything feel a little bit better.
Remy
Remy shifted on the uncomfortable plastic chair as she stared at the closed office door in front of her, nervously looking from left to right, not wanting Bertie or Harper to spy her while she waited outside the head teacher’s office. It had been unusual for Ashleigh to call, and even more strange that she had been crying, babbling. She was usually so in control. Yet nice, nice that her sister knew that when she needed her, Remy would be there on the end of the phone.
You need to look after each other, always. You are, after all, miracles, two babies from one egg, rare and special!
Not that she’d entirely got to the bottom of her sister’s distress. Something to do with a dog called Ben, her accountant, and worrying that she didn’t spend enough time with Evie. It sounded like a typical case of overload and Mum guilt, which she understood. For her a hot bath and an early night usually did the trick. She’d no doubt get the full story when they went for lunch at The Plough. Guilt tingled in her veins at the fact that she’d been a bit less than enthused about her sister coming down. It was difficult to explain. She wouldalwayslove her, but it was hard, watching Ashleigh arrive like a well-groomed hurricane and upset the balance of everything. Her voice, opinions, manner, it was all a little forced, and if Ashleigh didn’t relax, no one did. No one could. As if she filled the room with an energy that crackled and kept them all on their toes.
A message arrived on her phone from Jamie.
What times kick off tnight?
His lack of etiquette and inattention to grammar and spelling bothered her more than it should. She chose to ignore the fact that had this exact same message been sent by Midge or anyone else, she would scarcely have noticed, but any contact from him ... It was as if she were predisposed to feel this intense level of irritation. The Jamie Aller effect. When they’d parted, she had spent a year, maybe more, riven with intense frustration that verged on dislike, sobbing herself to sleep with the grip of failure in her gut. Hindsight had taught her that Jamie wasn’t a bad person, just a selfish and unreliable one. Someone who was not and never was meant for her. It was a salient lesson not to confuse lust with love that she wished she had learned earlier. Not that she would change a thing, because they had made Sophie. Her heart flexed at the thought of seeing her later. The fact she and Jamie shared a child meant theywere bound forever, whether they liked it or not, and that was just the way it was.
Seven O’clock
She replied without any pleasantry that she was sure he would neither notice nor care about.
‘Remy! Hi! Sorry to have kept you waiting. Come in!’ called the jovial woman, who had had a hand in educating all three of Remy’s kids, as she blustered along the corridor.
‘Not at all. I’m just glad you could squish me in, Jane.’
She followed the headteacher into her small office that smelled of dust and disinfectant.
‘Sit! Sit! Sit!’ Jane pointed to the chair in front of her desk.
Remy sat.
‘Right, what’s up?’
She exhaled, trying to recall all the words and phrases she had practised on the way here, suddenly aware that it all sounded a bit meh, a bitis that it? She wished she’d phoned instead. Far easier to cringe and end the call unseen.
‘It’s Harper. She’s having a bit of a tough time.’
‘No! I’m sorry to hear that. In what way?’
She swallowed. ‘I don’t want to sound like one of those parents who wade in and whinge and try to fight their kid’s corner or make them seem oversensitive or like they can’t cope or ...’
