‘Thank God you’re home! Your mum rang, she’s on her way over,’ Tom calls as I open the front door.
‘You didn’t tell her our plans, did you?’ Knowing Tom doesn’t know my password, I lay my laptop on the table in the living room and head for the kitchen, stretching and wishing I didn’t have to wear my work trousers to go to the library. Just one more consequence of lying.
‘Do I look stupid to you?’ Tom hands Grace to me and I wrap my arms around her with a moan of pleasure. She pulls my hair.
‘No … and there’s no reason to tell her anything until we’ve made a decision.’ I tickle Grace’s chin and she babbles at me. ‘Hello to you, baby girl. I’m so glad you’re up to see me.’
‘She’s wide awake.’ Tom smiles at her. ‘She had a nice long lunchtime nap for a change.’
‘Good girl! So, did Mum say why she was coming over?’
‘No. I think she’s just feeling lonely.’ Tom switches on the kettle. ‘Tea?’
‘I’d rather have wine.’
‘You can if you want.’ Tom tilts his head at me, and I shake mine.
‘No, I’ll stick to tea.’
‘Coming up.’
The doorbell rings and Grace jerks in my arms, excitement lighting her face. ‘She’s here.’ I carry Grace into the hallway. ‘Let’s go and see Grandma, shall we?’
‘Hello darling.’ Mum gives me a hug, squeezing me a little too tightly.
‘Are you all right, Mum?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She doesn’t step back. ‘It’s just … who knew a date could be so difficult?’
‘The day after tomorrow.’ I squeeze her in return, and she frowns a little.
‘Would you like me to bring over some healthy meals next time I come, darling? You can put them in your freezer, it’ll save you the hassle of cooking.’ As I suck in my stomach, suddenly self-conscious, she takes Grace from me and lifts her to the light. ‘Why is Grace dressed like a plumber? Why isn’t she in one of the pretty dresses I bought her?’
I bite my lip. Grace is in a cute pair of cream dungarees. ‘Tom dresses her, Mum.’
‘And I think she looks lovely.’ Tom is standing behind me now. ‘Would you like a cup of tea, Alison?’
‘Yes, please.’ Mum carries Grace into the living room. ‘I’ll be in here with Grace.’
Tom strides back to the kitchen. ‘Go and sit with your mum, I’ll bring the tea through.’
Mum is on the sofa with Grace on the floor in front of her, commando crawling after Frankie-Lion who appears to have fallen from the chair. It’s a new thing she’s started doing and it’s adorable. I’m trying not to think about what it means for her next. Crawling, walking … leaving me.
‘Where’s Tom with the tea?’ Mum raises her chin and I twist so that I can see into the kitchen. Tom grimaces over the counter at me, taking his time.
I raise my voice enough so that he can hear. ‘He won’t be long.’ Then I turn back to Mum. ‘I’m glad you came over, I was going to call. I know it’s hard for you this week …’
‘As a matter of fact, I came to see how you were doing.’ Mum folds her hands. ‘After all that business with the police, I wondered if you’d considered talking to Gillian?’
Tom comes in with two cups of tea, puts them on the coffee table, picks Grace up and puts her in the bouncer. She claps, then yells as Frankie drops to the floor. Tom hands him back and I sense immediately that she will love this new game. I’m proven right when Grace hurls Frankie back on the floor and looks at Tom with pleading eyes.
‘Actually,’ I look at Tom and then at Mum, ‘I have spoken to the doctor about counselling, but there’s a six-week waiting list.’
‘I see.’ Mum smiles at Grace, then turns to me. ‘Well, Gillian’s better than some NHS navel-gazer. You’ll have to go and see her.’
Tom hands Frankie back to Grace then takes my hand. ‘We really can’t afford it, Alison.’
Mum almost smiles. ‘I’ll pay, of course. It was my suggestion. And I can come to the first session with you if that’ll help. I know how you hate talking about things that bother you.’
‘You’ll pay?’ Tom glances at me.
‘I’m sure Gillian will give me a reasonable rate.’
I swallow. ‘It’s really kind, Mum. But, if you’re willing to pay … maybe we could find our own therapist. One who specialises in post-natal—’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Mum claps her hands. ‘I’ll make an appointment for later in the week. How does Friday sound?’
Tom stiffens. ‘Friday isn’t good.’ He catches my eye. ‘I mean … shouldn’t we be focusing on you this week, Alison?’
Mum shakes her head. ‘Don’t be silly, Tom, Bridget is my daughter and she needs this …’
I can’t help glancing at the iPad. Behind its darkened screen the Rightmove website is right there, a silent accusation. ‘It’s just that we’re going away on Friday. We’re staying with Neil and Sam, in Clitheroe.’
Mum freezes and her knuckles whiten on her teacup. I’d forgotten her dislike of Neil. ‘The one who dumped you.’
‘That was years ago, Mum. He’s Tom’s best friend.’
Tom stands, one hand on my shoulder. ‘And Grace’s godfather. We’ve arranged to go and see them.’
‘In Lancashire, I suppose.’ Mum looks at me. ‘Up North.’ She rolls her eyes.
‘We like it up there, don’t we, Bridge?’ Tom’s look is icy. ‘In fact—’
‘Tom, no!’ I try to speak over him, but he ignores me.
‘We’re going to look at houses while we’re there.’
For a moment the room is silent and then Mum’s cup crashes onto the floor, splashing tea in a brown arc which soaks my shoes and the carpet around us. She stands, like an old lady, levering herself up from the chair one joint at a time. ‘You can’t,’ she says eventually. ‘You can’t leave me! This week of all weeks. How could you do this?’
‘Mum, I’m sorry. Tom wasn’t meant to—’
‘So, you weren’t even going to tell me?’ Her brown eyes are wide and horrified. ‘When was I going to find out? When the removal van arrived? When I received the change of address card? When I turned up to pick up Grace and some stranger answered the door?’
‘Mum, it’s not like that.’ I reach for her and she steps back, as if I’ll hurt her with my touch. Tears are gathering in her eyes. She’s shaking. ‘I didn’t want to tell you until we’d made a decision. We haven’t made any—’
‘And I get no say in this?’ She clenches trembling fists. Her rings stand out like knuckle dusters, diamonds glittering. ‘I look after Grace once a week so Tom can go to “school” and I get no say!’
‘We’ve only just started talking—’ I gasp.
‘And what about Tom’s school? Suddenly he doesn’t want to write anymore, is that it?’
‘I can finish my course remotely,’ Tom murmurs.
Mum staggers as if he’s hit her. ‘How convenient.’ Then she looks at me and her eyes are no longer tearing. ‘I forbid it.’
Tom snorts a laugh. ‘You what?’
‘You heard me. I forbid it.’ Sharp lines crack her face powder. ‘How dare you even consider this? When will I see Grace? Do you expect me to move as well?’
‘No, Mum.’ I hang my head.
Mum looks at Tom. ‘I assume this is all about you. I won’t give you money, so you plan to take my daughter and granddaughter from me.’
‘OK, that’s enough.’ Tom starts towards the door as Grace, who has been staring from one adult to another, begins to cry. ‘I think we should cut today’s visit short. Bridget’s a grown-up. You can’t forbid her to do anything and this is nothing to do with your money. It’s about us and what’s right for our family.’ He’s holding the living room door open, gesturing as if to send her through it by the force of his will.
‘And moving to the middle of nowhere is good for Grace, is it? Being away from her family, from art and culture and—’
‘Mum, stop.’ I lift Grace into my arms. My own chest is heaving. ‘Please. I can’t bear this. Stop it, both of you!’
Mum looks at us and she looks suddenly very old. ‘Do you want me to go, Bridget?’ she asks, tremulous. ‘Is that what you want?’
I hesitate, unable to answer.
She hangs her head. ‘You want to take Grace away from me.’
‘Mum, it’s really not like that … I’m so sorry.’
She walks slowly towards the door. There she pauses and turns back to look at me. ‘I’ll book the appointment for Thursday then, if it’s all right with your husband.’ She says husband as if she’d much rather call him something else. ‘I’ll just have to get over the fact that it’s your dad’s anniversary.’
I nod wordlessly and Tom holds the front door open as she leaves.
He starts back into the living room, but I block the doorway. ‘How could you? We agreed not to tell her until we’d actually decided something.’
‘Bridge … I’m sorry. She wound me up.’
‘Well, you don’t have to see her on Thursday, and I do! You saw how upset she was, she’s terrified of never seeing Grace again. I wanted to be sure before we told her. Now … I don’t know if I can go through with it. She might never speak to me again.’
Grace squirms in my arms. She doesn’t like my tone. Tom sighs. ‘She wouldn’t really not speak to you again, you know.’
I put Grace back in her bouncer carefully, as if she might break. ‘You don’t understand …’ I speak without looking at him. ‘You didn’t meet me until spring term.’
He comes nearer. ‘You were serious about her not speaking to you for a month? I thought you were joking. Exaggerating.’
‘It’s always been that way.’ I stare at the floor. It needs hoovering, there are crumbs under my toes. ‘She cares about me a lot. I used to think she might care too much. But if I did something wrong, she’d pretend I didn’t exist until I fixed it.’ I swallow. ‘It sounds like I’m complaining. I’m not. She never hit me, not ever, and I learned to behave. But this might be unforgivable.’
Tom touches my shoulder. ‘Bridge …’
I raise my eyes to Grace, who is absorbed by the mirror on her bouncer, and take a deep breath. ‘It’s … well, it’s one reason I think I might be such a lunatic right now. I know about genetics, Tom.’ Now I look at him. ‘What if I kill myself, like Dad did?’
Tom freezes; not even his chest moves with his breath. It’s as if he’s paralysed. I plunge on.
‘Or, if I don’t, what if I end up getting so cross with Grace that she stops existing to me? I hated that so much when I was growing up but eventually Grace is going to talk back to me, or whatever, and then what do I do? I don’t know anything else!’
‘Shit, Bridge, I had no idea.’ Tom puts his arms around me. ‘You’re not your mum. There’re plenty of ways to teach Grace how to behave: positive reinforcement, time-outs, the naughty step, one-two-three, sticker charts. We’ll buy some books and read up. Why didn’t you tell me that’s what was bothering you?’
I press my lips together. Finally, I answer. ‘I didn’t want you to think I’d be a bad mum. I was worried …’ I clench my fists against his back. ‘I was worried you might not want a baby with me.’
‘Fuuuck.’ He says it on an exhale. ‘Have you … have you actually thought about killing yourself?’
I don’t answer. I don’t like lying to him.
‘Jesus, Bridge.’ He tightens his hold on me as if I’m flying away and he is the only thing keeping me on earth. ‘The counselling will help, it has to. But not if your mum’s in the room. How are you going to talk to her friend with Alison sitting right there?’
‘Maybe she’ll just get me settled in. You know, have a quick chat, pay, then leave.’
‘Even if she thinks you’re moving away? You don’t think she’ll want to talk about that?’ I bite my lip and Tom stiffens. ‘I really want this, Bridge. We need to get away from here.’ He never spoke in that tone, almost pleading. Never.
I exhale shakily. ‘I can’t see a way of doing it without hurting Mum. But … I suppose we could still go on Friday if we make up a story.’ I feel nauseous at the idea. Lying to Mum. What am I thinking?
Tom grins, surprised. ‘You mean tell her we aren’t going to Lancashire and go anyway?’
I bite my lip. ‘We’ll have to say we’re going somewhere in case she wants to come over. Maybe you could tell her we’re having a weekend away because I already got the day off work?’
‘Sneaky!’ Tom pulls me in for a kiss. ‘I am sorry.’ He hesitates.
At that moment Grace decides that she’s had enough of being ignored, and starts a loud, demanding wail. Tom lets go of me to scoop her up. Then he hands Grace to me. ‘Give her a cuddle while I make dinner.’
I stand in the middle of the living room, cuddling Grace and dreading Thursday. What can I say to Gillian? I need her to help me, but I don’t want to say anything to upset Mum. And what if Mum finds out that we’re lying to her?