Chapter 18

Wednesday, 27th October

‘It’s number eight you’re wanting?’

The man, the cab driver, stares at me huddled into my coat in the rear of the taxi. His gaze falls to my hands, the shredded mess of paper towel in my lap grabbed from the ladies’ toilet in A&E. I’m better now, the diazepam quietening it all down, the tension, in my shoulders, neck and jaw, melted away. He looks out through the front passenger window. Low cottages huddle close together along a street no more than a car’s width. A light has come on behind a front door, it opens, a woman in a dressing gown hurries towards us, the driver looks back at me expectantly.

The taxi door opens.

‘There you are, love. I’ve been that worried.’

I get out of the taxi, rummage through coat pockets, my jeans, find a note, some coins, pass them across to the outstretched palm, look into the man’s face. I’ve no idea how much I owe him, but it must be okay, he’s nodding, a farewell wave. Shirley has her arm about my shoulders guiding me. We head towards the brightly lit threshold.

‘Come into the kitchen. I’ve just made a brew. I couldn’t sleep a wink for worrying.’

Her voice is hushed, a hurried whisper as she pushes the front door closed, takes my elbow, tugs me along a short hall into a tiny, low-ceilinged kitchen. Her voice is soft and undulating, the words like a warm bath, wash over me. She pulls out a chair. I sit, watch her getting mugs, milk, sugar.

‘Where’s Sophie?’ I ask.

Shirley glances at me, continues to pour tea, one mug, then the next.

‘Asleep, upstairs. She’s alright.’

She puts a mug on the table in front of me. A pile of Sophie’s drawings are anchored beneath an iPad.

‘I’ve tried to keep her busy, poor little thing.’

‘Has she said anything, about what happened?’

‘Not much, but I didn’t like to press her. Something’s not right though.’ We stare across the table at one another. ‘I thought it might be better if she chats to you, when she’s ready. Your husband called. They had a chat and she was a bit better after that.’

‘You’ve spoken to Mark?’

‘Haven’t you, love?’

I shake my head, words gather in my brain, I try to slow them down, put them into order. Shirley’s hand is warm on mine. I take a breath.

‘I left messages, but I couldn’t get hold of him. My phone’s flat now.’

‘Well, he knows what’s happened. He spoke with Sophie and says he’ll be here.’ Shirley looks at the clock on the wall, a cockerel, its legs swing back and forth. ‘He should arrive later this morning.’

It’s 1:13am. I’ve lost track of time, it flowed by as I waited in A&E, a side ward, waited and waited for news.

‘George boarded up the French windows temporary for tonight. He’s back in the morning. He’ll re-glaze them for you then.’

Shirley looks towards the kitchen door, a stair-tread squeaks, feet pitter patter along the hall.

‘I’m not surprised she’s awake, poor little soul. She kept asking when you’d be back.’

The kitchen door is ajar, it moves a fraction, doesn’t open.

‘Sophie?’ I say, starting to stand. The door flies back, bangs the wall, my daughter hurls herself at me and onto my lap.

‘Where’s Tom?’

Her breath is hot on my cheek, her lips brush my ear, arms clamp around my neck.

‘He’s on the children’s ward for tonight so the doctors can keep an eye on him. They need to make sure his asthma’s okay.’

I hug Sophie, feel her shivering, a small skinny bag of bones. I bite my lip as my eyes sting.

‘I’m worried about him cos he’s not got Blue Duck.’ Sophie lets go of my neck and holds the sagging rag toy between us.

‘Don’t worry, he was sleeping when I came away. We’ll take him with us to the hospital when we pick Tom up.’

I smudge warm tears off her cheek with my thumb. ‘Mrs Cooper says you’ve been busy,’ I say, looking towards the drawings. Sophie grabs the iPad.

‘Shirley bought me a new game. Look! I’m on level three already! Tom will think it’s so cool.’

The screen lights, bright colours, an electronic tune starts up as Sophie’s brow creases in concentration. I look across the table, raise my eyebrows as Shirley smiles.

‘We made a bed for Mummy on the sofa, didn’t we, Sophie.’

Sophie glances at Shirley, nods and smiles, back to the screen.

‘I didn’t think you’d want to be heading over to Haverscroft at this time of night.’ Shirley looks over the top of Sophie’s head. ‘It’s a bit of a squeeze, but I’m glad of the company.’

‘I can’t thank you enough, Shirley.’ There’s a wavering in my voice, I pick up my mug, take a sip.

‘It wouldn’t have felt right with you and the children at the house on your own.’ She drinks her tea, her cheeks flushed, I’ve underestimated how distressed she is over all that’s happened.

‘Where’s Riley?’ I say.

Sophie wriggles off my lap, hands the iPad to Shirley.

‘His basket’s in here with Mrs Cooper’s cat.’ Sophie dashes off into the hall as she speaks.

‘I didn’t know you had a cat.’

Shirley’s laughing. ‘Come and meet Hercules,’ she says, getting to her feet.

Sophie kneels beside the hearth in Shirley’s sitting room fussing Riley. An enormous ginger tomcat is curled asleep next to the dog’s basket.

‘He passed away shortly after I lost Nick. I couldn’t bear to part with him so I had him stuffed.’

Shirley shakes out a duvet, plumps a pillow on the sofa. ‘There’s a throw here if you’re chilly, but I think you’ll be warm enough. There are some logs in the basket for the fire. Make yourself at home.’ She looks towards a low table beside an armchair, ‘Phone’s there if you need it, bathroom’s at the top of the stairs, first left.’

‘You need to be back in bed, Sophie,’ I say, aware that Shirley looks shattered.

‘Can I sleep with you?’

Shirley and I exchange a glance.

‘Just this once.’

Sophie jumps on the sofa and I tuck the duvet around her.

‘Would you mind if I borrow your iPad, Shirley?’

She looks at me, one of her long stares, smiles and nods. ‘I’ll nip off to my bed. Sophie knows the password, don’t you, love.’

 

Sophie’s asleep already, her arm crocked about Riley’s neck when I carry a mug of coffee through to Shirley’s sitting room. I throw a couple of logs into the embers of the fire and get settled on the sofa with Sophie’s head in my lap. I send Mark an email.

 

Sorry I’ve missed you, mobile’s flat. We’re at Shirley’s tonight, picking Tom up tomorrow lunchtime. He’s on the children’s ward, he’s okay, just keeping him in to be sure. I’m on Shirley’s number if you need to contact me. If not, I’ll keep you posted tomorrow, see you around 7pm.

Kate x

 

Mark will blame me for Tom’s dunk in the pond. Maybe, in part, I am at fault. How long had I left them unsupervised, absorbed in Mark’s file? Five, ten minutes, certainly no longer. They’ve played out for an hour or more at weekends when we’ve been busy working on the house. But what was it I saw? Clouds scudding across a brittle blue sky, light and shade, shadows shifting across the garden? Or something different, something I won’t be able to convincingly explain to Mark, or a court, if it comes to that. I can’t be sure what Mark intends to do. If he decides to leave and make an application for the twins to be with him, I must be coherent.

I google solicitor’s firms, find Amy, a fellow trainee from years back, now a partner in a niche firm specialising in family law. I send an email, ask if she might spare me a few minutes’ advice. I trawl through websites, get the basics about the Children Act 1989, court orders, when and why they make them. As a lawyer, I see how the solicitor’s email builds Mark’s case, trashes my care of the children, my inability to focus on the day to day, my mental health, the children’s best interests. I’ve never spoken about it, not to Mark, the GP, not even the quiet and patient counsellor. It worried me, my inability to speak about her, to seek any help or advice. Now I’m relived it’s my secret.

The iPad glows bright in my lap, the curser blink, blinking in the search engine box. The room is dark, silent save for Riley’s snuffled snores, the puttering of the fire. My fingers hover, brush the screen. Where to start? I type Haverscroft House into the search box and press the return key.