‘Hi, sleepyhead.’ Sophie smiled brightly as Claire wandered bleary-eyed into the kitchen the next morning.
‘God, what time is it?’ Claire blinked around, disorientated. Despite the lack of wine, she’d slept heavily, dreams of her mother haunting her as they always did. Normally she dreamed of her mother smiling and happy, crouching beside her as she pointed out the pretty birds in the garden – greenfinches, robins and fat wood pigeons – then immediately unsmiling and angry. This time, though, it had been different. Like a thin wisp of smoke on the air, it was already escaping her. She remembered one bit of it: her mother’s expression when she’d fallen. Her eyes had been pleading, her face ridden with guilt as she lay broken at the foot of the stairs. I’m sorry, my darling, she’d whispered. I tried to stop him. To stop him doing what? Claire tried to make sense of it.
‘Nine forty,’ Sophie supplied, snapping her from her reverie. ‘I take it you slept well?’
‘Like a log.’ Claire stifled a yawn. ‘I could have slept the clock round.’
‘That will be the shock catching up with you.’ Sophie glanced at her sympathetically from where she was sliding a baking tray into the oven. ‘You’ve had an awful lot to deal with. You’re bound to be exhausted.’
‘I must have been.’ Claire stretched and massaged the back of her neck. ‘Thanks for the bed for the night, Sophie, and for the shoulder. I think it did me good to talk about things.’
‘No problem,’ Sophie assured her, reaching for the kettle to pour water into two mugs. ‘That’s what sisters are for. Where’s Ella?’
Claire noted the sisters reference and decided she didn’t mind. She felt stronger having someone on her side. ‘In the lounge, snuggling Cinder. I’ve a feeling someone might be mithering me for a cat when we get back.’
‘Uh oh, sorry.’ Sophie winced apologetically.
‘Not your fault. She loves furry things. All the more so if they’re live furry things.’ Claire smiled. ‘I might consider getting her one once I know what I’m doing. It will be company for her, and better than a dog, which I suspect she was hankering after. That’s not really feasible now I’m on my own. I’ll probably have to go back to work sooner rather than later.’
‘I can see a dog would be a problem, having to leave it.’ Sophie’s eyes flicked downwards as she carried the coffee to the table. Placing the mugs down, she looked up again. ‘You do have me,’ she said with a hesitant smile. ‘If you need help with anything, I mean. I’d be more than happy to help out if I can.’
Claire studied her for second. She looked so hopeful, it was heart-rending. ‘I know you would,’ she said, giving her another small smile. ‘Something smells scrummy.’ Nodding towards the oven, she changed the subject.
‘Fresh croissants,’ Sophie said, now looking pleased. ‘I nipped out while you were sleeping. They’re warm, but they need another minute. Grab a seat and I’ll bring them over.’
‘You don’t need to wait on me, Sophie,’ Claire said, though actually she was quite enjoying it. It was usually her running around after everyone else.
‘Make the most of it,’ Sophie insisted. ‘I think you’ve earned it, don’t you?’
Claire plonked herself gratefully down. She had earned it, she supposed. ‘I was wondering…’ she said hesitantly as Sophie pulled the croissants from the oven.
‘About?’ Sophie slid the pastries onto a plate and glanced across to her.
‘Your mother,’ Claire went on cautiously, aware how painful the subject was.
Sophie nodded, her expression telling Claire she’d expected her to ask again. ‘She died in a car accident,’ she said, walking across to place the croissants on the table and then going back for smaller plates. ‘A motorbike came straight at her. Mum skidded to avoid it, the car flipped and…’ Shrugging sadly, she came back to the table. ‘The driver of the motorbike was drunk, apparently. Some people thought he did it deliberately, but… I don’t suppose we’ll ever know.’
‘Deliberately?’ Claire felt a chill of trepidation run through her, and her mind went immediately to her dad’s old BSA sitting in his garage.
‘He was an ex-boyfriend.’ Sophie’s eyes were full of pain and sadness. ‘They say he was jealous of her involvement with…’ Trailing off, she glanced at Claire worriedly.
‘Bernard?’ Clare finished, her throat thick.
Nodding cautiously, Sophie pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘Mum saw him for years off and on. I think she was very much in love with him.’ She paused, appearing to take stock, while Claire thought of her own mother, how she could have borne it; how either of the women could.
‘The car caught fire. Mum didn’t stand a chance,’ Sophie continued, swallowing emotionally. ‘The ex-boyfriend went to prison, but he’s out now. You do wonder, don’t you, about the justice of him having a life when my mother was so cruelly robbed of hers.’
‘Oh my God, Sophie…’ Shocked to the core, Claire stared at her. She had no idea what to say. ‘That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.’ She reached for the hand Sophie was absent-mindedly dusting crumbs from the table with. ‘Did he plead guilty?’
Sophie shook her head. ‘He denied it. He was there that night, in the pub where Mum worked. Witnesses said he was there most nights, hanging around her; that he often said she would regret the day she finished with him. The landlord said he’d been drinking steadily and that he’d overheard them arguing.’ She stopped and pulled in a shuddery breath.
‘There wasn’t much evidence, I gather,’ she went on quietly after a second. ‘The tyre tracks were inconclusive, but there was part of a number plate that the police were able to match to his bike. He said he used that road often and that he’d skidded there once before. A witness from a cottage just past where it happened said they saw him riding off at speed after the car caught fire, though, so…’
Claire gulped back a hard lump in her throat. ‘Oh Sophie, that must have been so awful for you,’ she said, horrified and aching with hurt for her. Yet also relieved. For a second, she’d imagined… She wasn’t sure what she’d imagined, but her own mother’s words – What happened was because of you, Bernard Harvey! Live with the consequences. I have to – her drinking, her deteriorating mental health had come petrifyingly to mind.
‘It was.’ Sophie smiled sadly. ‘They’re going to be pulling the pub down soon,’ she added, almost as an afterthought. ‘It’s already half demolished. I find that quite upsetting too, to be honest. I spent most of my early childhood in that place. It was lovely in the summer. The gardens at the back were really pretty. Not so much in the winter. It was cosy, but a bit gloomy.’
Claire remembered it well. And the woman with the red-painted lips and the leopard-print shoes. Sophie’s mother. Her father’s lover. She swallowed heavily.
‘I went there a few times after it closed. I even stayed there for a couple of weeks before I got this place,’ Sophie went on.
‘On your own?’ Claire looked at her, surprised. ‘Didn’t you find that a bit… haunting?’
‘Not really.’ Sophie shrugged, unperturbed. ‘I suppose some people would, but it made me feel closer to her somehow. I swear I could hear her laughing from behind the bar sometimes. She had a nice laugh, bubbly,’ she added sadly, and then pressed a finger to her lips and nodded towards the door.
Claire followed her gaze to see Ella standing there with her arms full of cat. A remarkably patient cat, considering that its bottom half was dangling precariously floorwards and its top half was in danger of being hugged to death.
‘Mummeee…’ The little girl’s voice was her best wheedling one, and her eyes were in beguiling mode as she leaned her cheek to nuzzle the bewildered-looking animal.
‘We’ll see,’ Claire said.
Ella looked up, her eyes wide with surprise. ‘How did you know what I was going to say?’ she asked.
‘I’m a mind-reader,’ Claire told her with a smile. ‘I’m also sensing you’re hungry. Come on.’ Exchanging amused glances with Sophie, she patted the chair next to her. ‘Come and have some chocolate croissants. No, not the cat,’ she added as Ella pondered how to scramble up with her arms wrapped around it. ‘Pop Cinder down, sweetheart. You can have another cuddle with him before we leave.’
‘It’s a her, Mummy.’ Ella sighed despairingly and bent to plop the cat down. Cinder immediately made a sharp exit to the lounge.
‘Better go and wash your hands, lovely,’ Sophie suggested. ‘Cats are cute, but they do catch mice. Better not swallow any germs with your croissant.’
‘Oops.’ Ella dutifully about-faced to the bathroom, leaving Claire thinking that Sophie was more proficient at parenting than she was.
Her hands duly washed, but still dripping wet, Ella returned to have them quickly dried by Sophie on some kitchen towel.
‘Can I talk to Daddy today, Mummy?’ she asked, as Claire hoisted her up onto the chair, and then fetched her some juice.
Heck. She’d forgotten to turn her sound back on. ‘When we’ve finished breakfast,’ she promised, ferreting her phone from the pocket of the dressing gown Sophie had kindly offered her the use of. Checking it, she found several texts and missed calls from Luke. He’d obviously been desperate to get hold of her.
‘Everything okay?’ Sophie enquired, noting her worried expression.
‘Yes, fine,’ Claire said, smiling as Ella’s shrewd gaze slid between them. Immediately the phone rang again. ‘I’d better take this,’ she said, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet.
‘Claire? Where the bloody hell have you been?’ Luke demanded as soon as she accepted the call.
Claire was tempted to hang up there and then, but restrained herself with Ella looking on. ‘I’ve told you where I am, Luke,’ she said, politely but tightly. ‘Is there a problem?’
He emitted an incredulous laugh. ‘Yes, there’s a problem,’ he growled, making no attempt to hide his agitation. ‘I hear you screaming Ella’s name, then the phone goes dead. I text you to be told she’s been to the hospital. I call you and text you at least another thousand times and get a short reply telling me nothing except to basically piss off and stop bothering you. So yes, I’d say there’s definitely a problem, wouldn’t you?’
Her heartbeat ratcheting up, Claire cautioned herself to stay calm. ‘Did you want something, Luke?’ she asked him.
‘Yes, Claire,’ he grated, ‘I would quite like to know how my daughter is, if that’s okay with you.’
‘She’s fine, as I mentioned in my text.’ Claire kept her tone civil, though she wasn’t sure how. ‘Would you like to have a quick word with her?’
‘If it’s not too inconvenient for you, yes,’ Luke answered caustically.
Claire ignored him, going to Ella instead. ‘Daddy wants to say hello, sweetheart. Don’t be too long, though. We have to get washed and dressed, don’t we?’ Handing Ella the phone, she turned away, her teeth gritted as she tried to quash the anger blooming in her chest. Why was he behaving this way? What did he possibly hope to gain by practically hounding her?
Calming herself with several slow breaths, she cocked an ear to glean what she could from Ella’s side of the conversation.
‘No, we were sleepy, so we stayed in bed,’ Ella said, from which Claire gathered he’d commented about her not being dressed yet.
Silence followed as Ella listened. Then, ‘I fell in the sea,’ she said, and Claire inwardly flinched. She had no idea how he would interpret that.
‘No, I didn’t have my armbands with me,’ she went on. ‘I was all right, though,’ she quickly assured him. ‘Auntie Sophie came and got me.’
Claire went back to her. ‘Say goodbye now, sweetheart. Mummy needs to get on.’
Ella looked up from the phone, her wide blue eyes cloudy with confusion. Also a touch of resentment, which did nothing to improve Claire’s mood. This was so unfair – on Ella and her. She hadn’t caused this situation. Luke was the one who’d cheated. Yet his aggressive attitude was making her feel that she was in the wrong.
‘When will I see you, Daddy?’ Ella asked, causing Claire’s heart to twist. ‘Promise?’ she added, her voice small. Plainly, she was reluctant to let him go.
‘Say bye-bye, sweetheart,’ Claire encouraged her.
‘Bye, Daddy,’ Ella obliged, her eyes now brimming with tears. ‘Love you too.’
Standing up, Claire pressed the phone to her ear. She was grateful when Sophie came to the rescue, taking Ella’s hand and signalling towards the lounge.
‘Thanks,’ Claire mouthed, and waited for them to disappear before turning her attention to the questions Luke was now firing at her. She was glad Sophie had been considerate enough of Ella’s feelings to put the TV on, thus drowning out the conversation she was about to have.
‘Claire, this is ludicrous,’ Luke was saying, his tone now a mixture of agitation and frustration. ‘You shouldn’t be taking anything that woman says at face value.’
‘It’s none of your business,’ Claire snapped, feeling tearful already. What right did he have to question her?
‘Do you have any proof she is who she says she is?’ Luke went on. ‘Have you checked her out? Properly, I mean, before allowing her access to Ella? What’s her full name?’
‘Obviously I have,’ Claire lied. That was what she was doing here. But she wasn’t answerable to him.
‘I’m driving over there,’ Luke announced.
‘Don’t you dare!’ Claire hissed furiously. ‘What are you, my keeper? I’m Ella’s mother. I’m perfectly capable of looking after her.’
‘And I’m her father,’ Luke shot back. ‘And I have every right to know what the hell is going on.’
Claire clenched her free hand so hard her fingernails dug into her flesh. ‘Yes, and a very caring one,’ she pointed out, growing more angry and disbelieving by the second.
Luke sucked in a breath. ‘That’s not fair, Claire,’ he said, more quietly. ‘I didn’t want any of this to happen.’
Claire almost laughed at that. ‘No, you just wanted a quick shag.’
‘Claire, don’t. I didn’t… Nothing happened. Why won’t you listen to me?’
Did he really expect her to believe that, given all that was happening now? Claire’s mind boggled. Could she have been more wrong about him? She’d scoffed when Sophie had compared him to her abusive ex, but now… This was manipulation, pure and simple. What did he want from her? ‘A one-night stand,’ she went on, her voice quavering, though she was trying hard to control it. ‘Sums up how you feel about women, doesn’t it?’
‘Could we just stop this please, Claire?’ Luke asked, after a charged pause. ‘Can we not just talk properly?’
Claire noted his more conciliatory tone. It had probably occurred to him that she had something he wanted. The text that would save his bacon. ‘I’m hanging up,’ she said, her own tone flat. Her emotions flat. She couldn’t do this. She simply didn’t have the energy.
‘Claire, wait…’ There it was, the desperate edge to his voice.
‘No, Luke. We have nothing else to discuss. Please stop texting me and calling me and threatening me. I—’
‘Threatening?’ He laughed, astonished. ‘Come on, Claire. I’m concerned about Ella, that’s all. You too. I just—’
‘I’m going,’ Claire repeated firmly. ‘And don’t worry, I’ll go to the police station – but only because I care about my daughter and what the impact might be on her if I don’t.’ She ended the call without saying goodbye. She felt as if her heart was tearing apart inside her.
She didn’t realise Sophie had come back into the kitchen until she slipped an arm around her shoulders. ‘Okay, lovely?’ she asked her softly.
Working hard to hold back her tears, Claire answered with a short nod.
‘I heard… some of it,’ Sophie said, then tensed as Claire’s phone rang again. ‘Do you want me to take it?’
Claire nodded a second time. She couldn’t trust herself to speak. If she did, the tears would come. Ella was safely in front of the TV, but still she couldn’t take the chance she might wander in and find her mother sobbing her heart out.
Sophie turned slightly away as she answered. ‘She doesn’t want to talk to you,’ she said bluntly, and cut the call. Then she turned back, her eyes full of concern. ‘I’m sure he’ll ring again if he has any genuine concerns about Ella, but it’s your choice whether you want to speak to him, Claire, and when. Just a suggestion,’ she added, ‘but maybe you should send him a text telling him you’ll change your number if he keeps messaging you. Sometimes you have to meet threats with threats. At least then he’ll know you mean it.’
Claire wrapped her arms about herself, feeling inexplicably cold suddenly. ‘Thanks, Sophie,’ she said, now immensely glad to have her in her corner.
‘Mummy,’ Ella called from the lounge.
‘Coming, sweetheart,’ Claire called back. ‘Could I ask you a favour, Sophie?’
‘Anything,’ Sophie assured her.
‘The texts Luke sent.’ She nodded towards the phone Sophie was still holding. ‘Would you mind deleting them?’ She didn’t want Ella reading them, but neither did she want to have to look at them herself. She didn’t want anything to do with him right now.
What she needed to do was get her tyre fixed, go home, and learn how to live on her own. If Sophie could do it, she could. And at least she did have Sophie now.