Madelaine Baines closed the front door and rested her head against it. She was utterly spent – drained of energy, her throat dry – but she was happy. It had gone better than she could ever have expected.
Sliding the deadlock into place, Madelaine gathered herself and dragged her bones to the kitchen. There she was heartened to see a brightly coloured note lying on the breakfast bar. Written in felt tip, it read: ‘Well done, SuperMom. You’re the greatest!!!’ Bordered with pretty flowers, and written in her daughters’ spidery handwriting, it made Madelaine’s heart sing.
She had toyed with allowing them to come to the vigil, but in the end had decided against it. They had school tomorrow and she didn’t want to upset them unnecessarily, so Paul had stayed home with them, with strict orders to let them watch the minute’s silence, then take them up to bed. Clearly this had been enough, however – the sight of the hordes of well-wishers clutching candles impressing them sufficiently to put pen to paper.
Picking up the note, Madelaine located the magnet they had bought at the Grand Canyon and attached the drawing to the refrigerator. The sentiment made her blush, but actually the girls were right – she had achieved something. Where there was panic and fear, now there was determination and resolve. It gave her a warm feeling, almost taking the edge off her crushing fatigue.
Grabbing a glass of water, Madelaine padded up the stairs. The house was totally quiet – the twins were almost certainly fast asleep and, by the sound of the gentle snoring emanating from the master bedroom, Paul was too. Madelaine felt a little pang of disappointment, as she joined him in the spacious room – part of her wanted to sleep of course, but another part wanted to share her triumph with someone, to process the many and varied emotions she felt.
There had been a little disruption towards the end – a teenager fainting in the front row – but other than that everything had passed off exactly as Madelaine had hoped. There had been many tears of course, but also applause for the contributions the two Chicagoans had made to city life before their untimely deaths. The minute’s silence had been impeccably observed, the speeches rousing, and though she wouldn’t say it out loud, Madelaine felt her own efforts had been on the money. The crowd seemed to appreciate her words, and as they drifted away, consoled and encouraged afresh, Madelaine had had a moment to reflect on a job well done. Shortly afterwards, the phone calls had begun – from radio and TV stations, the press. She was now due to appear on WGN news tomorrow morning, followed by an interview with the Tribune. It was dizzying and, if she was honest, a little exciting too.
She was tempted to turn the TV on, keen to see how the local news channels were reporting the vigil, but that would have to wait until tomorrow. She was too tired even to pick up the remote, so, crossing the bedroom to her side of the bed, she lowered herself gently down on to the mattress and carefully, quietly, switched on the bedside light.
She turned to Paul, to see if she’d disturbed him, but he hadn’t stirred. Satisfied, she began to undress, unbuttoning her blouse and tossing it into the laundry basket, before removing her earrings. She placed them on her bedside table, next to her glass of water and as she did so she spotted something. Her favourite family photo – of the four of them rafting in Montana – was out of place. Normally it was perfectly positioned so she could lie in bed and drink in the heart-warming image of happy days gone by. But now it was marginally off kilter, facing slightly away from the bed, so she could only make out the girls.
Madelaine paused. The cleaner hadn’t been in today and Paul never ventured over to this side of the bed – her face creams and health serums scaring him off. It must have been the girls then, but why would they be messing around her bedside table? There was little of any interest for them here – iPads not being allowed in bedrooms.
It was a small mystery, but that is what it would have to remain, because Madelaine was far too tired to work it out now. She would ask the girls in the morning, and was already looking forward to hearing what awkward excuses they would make up to cover for their intrusion.
Smiling to herself, Madelaine shed the rest of her clothes, then slid into bed. With one last, happy look at the photo, now correctly positioned, Madelaine leaned over and switched out her light, plunging the room into darkness.