‘Mum!’ Jem came thundering down the stairs, making my heart pound. I was on edge. I couldn’t believe what had happened – there was so much mess to clear up and I kept thanking my lucky stars that Jem had got out of bed just minutes before the tree fell. If she’d been in bed when the window shattered … well, it didn’t bear thinking about. I would have to find the cat that she’d got up to find and give it a special treat to say thank you.
Now I turned to see her bounding down the stairs, beaming from ear to ear.
‘Look!’ she said, waving something in my face. ‘Look what I found.’ She held up a small, dirty glass bottle with a wax seal.
‘What is it?’
She grinned. ‘It’s a witch bottle,’ she said triumphantly.
‘A what?’
‘A witch bottle. It was under the window frame in my room. I only found it because of the tree.’
Intrigued, I took it from her, turning it over in my hand. ‘What’s inside?’
She shrugged. ‘Don’t know. I need to look it up properly. Cassie’s mum might know who to ask.’
‘Oh god, it’s a school day,’ I said, suddenly remembering. I gave her back the bottle. ‘What time is it? Lord, it’s almost eight. You need to get dressed.’
‘Or I could stay here and help clean up?’ Jem said hopefully.
‘That’s very thoughtful of you but no, you need to go to school.’
‘Worth a try.’ She grinned at me again. ‘Eva might need me? Where is she?’
‘Gone back to bed,’ I said. ‘Her actual house is fine, apart from the broken window at the back. She said she’d keep the living-room door shut until it’s boarded up and get some sleep.’
Jem nodded. ‘I’m glad she’s okay.’
‘Me too.’
‘I’ve put all my stuff in your room. Is it okay to put my uniform on in there?’
‘Course it is,’ I said, looking down at myself. I was all dusty from clambering about over the debris in the garden. ‘I suppose I should have a shower, too, before this Rory gets here.’
‘He’s coming then?’ Jem said as I shooed her upstairs and followed myself.
‘He is. He says he can board up your window and make sure it’s all safe and watertight until a glazier can come out. And he’s going to do the same for Eva.’
‘He sounds nice.’ In my bedroom, Jem carefully put the grubby bottle on my dressing table, then she pulled off her dusty clothes and headed – totally unselfconsciously – into the bathroom where she turned on the shower.
‘He is nice,’ I said honestly, as she closed the door. ‘Don’t be too long in there. I need to shower too.’
While I waited for her to come out, I sat on my bed and examined the witch bottle. It had a design in the glass, but I couldn’t see what it was because it was encrusted with grime and dust. It needed a wash before Jem took it to show Cassie’s mum. I held it up to the light, trying to see what was inside, but I couldn’t tell. It wasn’t liquid, though – I could feel whatever it was rattling around against the glass.
‘What were witch bottles for?’ I asked Jem as she came back into the bedroom, wrapped in my towel and started pulling on her uniform without bothering to dry off properly.
‘Don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’ll take some pics of it and have a look online.’
I gave her a hug and smoothed her hair away from her face. ‘I’m so glad you went to find that cat,’ I said.
She made a face. ‘I know, right? I keep thinking about what could have happened if I’d been in bed.’
‘Don’t.’ I shuddered.
‘I hope the cat’s all right,’ Jem said. ‘I never actually saw it so I thought maybe I dreamt it.’
‘I saw a cat out there the other day. I’ll keep an eye out.’ I looked at the clock next to my bed. ‘You need to go. Take some money out of my purse and get some breakfast on the way. Come straight home.’
‘I will.’ She kissed me on the cheek. She danced off down the stairs, slamming the front door behind her. I checked my face in the mirror, considering putting on some make-up to look more presentable when Rory arrived. Then I changed my mind. Who cared what he thought of me?
I had a quick shower and put on a scruffy old sweatshirt that I wore when I was painting or gardening, and some jogging bottoms. I was supposed to be working in Edinburgh today, but I rang young Mr Langdown and explained what had happened. He was very sweet – as he always was – told me to take the day off, and even said if I had any trouble with the insurance company to let him know.
Rory had said he was very busy, obviously, so I wasn’t sure when he’d turn up. To distract myself, I set about clearing up in Jem’s room. It was such a mess – broken glass everywhere. Her curtains were torn and the walls wet from the rain that had blown in. Her mattress was wet too. I stood in the centre of the room, looking around in despair. My poor girl had put up with so much and now this. She’d had a big bedroom in our house in Edinburgh with a huge wardrobe, an en-suite bathroom and a double bed. Her room here was tiny. She had a single bed, a little wardrobe, some bookshelves and a desk. But she’d worked really hard to get it how she wanted, forcing herself to be positive and even joking that it was better than her old room because if she finished the book she was reading when she was in bed, she could get a new one from her shelf without getting up. She had been so brave through all the shit, and I was fiercely proud of her. But now this had happened and I couldn’t stand to think of her having to be brave again.
Jem had already gathered her duvet up, taking most of the broken glass with it, so I shoved it into a black bin liner. Maybe we’d go to the shops after school and buy a new one. I could put it all on my credit card and just cross my fingers and hope the insurance company covered it. It would be worth the risk to make sure Jem didn’t have to go without.
I vacuumed up the rest of the glass and took down her torn curtains, bundling them up in a bin liner too. Then I carefully took the photos and pictures from her wall and laid them on her desk, weighing them down with a pot of pens. We could print them out again, I thought. And I’d seen some nice pictures on Etsy that she might like. We’d make her bedroom better than it had been before.
Completely exhausted, I sat down with a thump on to the floor. I didn’t miss Alistair himself. Not really. Sometimes I missed what we’d had, years ago, when he’d been an aspiring TV reporter and I’d been working all hours as a duty solicitor. But I didn’t miss what he’d become – arrogant and self-obsessed. Our marriage had been off for years, really. Not surprising when I thought about what he was up to when he wasn’t at home. We barely saw each other and when we did spend time together it was at events or awards ceremonies – all for show.
I did, though, miss having someone there to share things with and now I felt that more than I had for ages. The responsibility of having to deal with all of this – making sure Jem was all right, re-doing her bedroom, getting the paint brushes out again, dealing with the insurance company, getting quotes for repairs – weighed heavily on my shoulders. It was okay for bloody Al, I thought wildly and fairly illogically. He’d just sodded off to prison. It was me who had to pick up the pieces of our life. Me who’d had to sell the house and find somewhere new to live, and a new job, and a new school for Jem. Prison was a breeze compared to all that.
I found myself crying, angry tears that felt warm on my cold cheeks. I wiped them away, annoyed. I didn’t let myself cry very often because I knew self-pity got me nowhere. And actually back when the first allegations came out, I had realized quite quickly that if I started crying, it was hard to stop.
‘Come on, Tess,’ I said out loud, shivering in a blast of cold air through the broken glass. ‘We need to get that window sorted out.’
I went into the bathroom and washed my face and then I put on some make-up to try to make myself look a bit better, after my little cry. Finally, I went downstairs to put the kettle on. As I got a mug out of the cupboard, there was a knock on the door and there was Rory.
‘I heard you had a broken window,’ he said cheerfully. Then he looked at my face – clearly still a bit blotchy – and winced. ‘Rough morning?’
‘Pretty shit.’ I stood back to welcome him in. ‘Cup of tea?’