I scoop Molly into my arms and she nestles her face into my neck. ‘I want to play with Kayla,’ she sobs.
‘We’ll be back again another day, Heather,’ I say. I don’t mean it to sound as threatening as it does, I was just really looking forward to seeing Kayla.
‘Okay. Thanks.’ Heather smiles and closes the door behind us.
I’m reeling as I put Molly down and her small, chubby fingers wrap around my hand.
‘I’m really sorry, sweetheart. I know you wanted to spend some time with Kayla.’
Molly doesn’t reply. She sniffles and drags the sleeve of her coat under her nose.
‘I know,’ I say, trying hard to sound chirpy. ‘There’s a shop downstairs. Did you see it when we came in?’
Molly nods.
‘I bet they sell lollipops.’ I pull a silly face and hope I can extract a smile from my daughter.
It works. Molly grins and says, ‘Strawbee?’
‘Let’s go find out.’ I swing Molly’s hand back and forth as we skip away together.
Twenty-Nine
Charlotte
It takes forever to get home in evening traffic. Molly is asleep in the back of the car when I finally pull into the driveway.
I turn off the engine and flop my head back against the headrest. I’ve only closed my eyes for a second when there’s the tap of a nail against my window.
I open my eyes and sit up straighter. My nosey neighbour! I groan inwardly as I reluctantly lower the window.
‘Hello, Trish.’
‘Hey, Charlotte. I hope this is a good time.’
‘A good time for what?’
‘A quick chat,’ Trish says, with an irritating grin that tells me she knows full well there’s never a good time for one of her interfering chats.
I twist my head over my shoulder to check the back seat. ‘Actually, Trish. Molly’s asleep so—’
‘Ah, good, we can talk while she snoozes,’ Trish says.
‘Well, I should probably get her inside and settled,’ I say, turning back and almost crashing face to face with Trish because she has her head shoved in my window trying to glance back at Molly.
‘I won’t keep you long,’ Trish says. ‘I just thought you should know that I’ve been keeping an eye on the house and—’
‘My house?’ My eyes widen.
‘For neighbourhood watch,’ Trish says. ‘And, well, gosh I’m just not sure how to put this.’ Trish places her hand across her chest as if she’s protecting her heart. ‘I’ve seen Gavin with another woman.’
I hate that my face registers an oh-my-God expression before my head catches up and I say, ‘Heather. She’s he’s ex.’
‘Oh. Oh,’ Trish stutters.
Oh God, I groan inwardly. Why did I say that? That must sound worse than whatever Trish was thinking.
‘Their daughter, my stepdaughter, isn’t well,’ I explain. ‘Heather is staying with us for a while.’
Oh my God, Charlotte stop talking, I think as I watch Trish’s lips twitch as she savours that little nugget of juicy gossip.
‘Little Kayla?’ Trish says.
‘Not so little anymore,’ I say. ‘Kayla is fifteen now.’
‘Gosh, time flies.’
I nod, wondering when Trish will peel her nose out of my business and go back to her house.
‘Will Kayla’s mother be staying long? Here, I mean.’ Trish points to my house as if I need clarification about where I live.
‘I really have no idea,’ I say, realising that I really do have no idea how long I will be sharing my house with the woman my husband used to sleep with.
‘It’s just it’s an extra car to park and the cul-del-sac is already crowded enough. Neighbours are beginning to complain,’ Trish says.
‘Really?’ I reach for the door handle and push the door open, not caring if Trish has time to jerk her head back through the window or not. I stand up and tower over my short neighbour. ‘If anyone has a problem, they can talk to me.’
‘You know what people round here are like.’ Trish pushes her shoulders back trying to stand a fraction taller. ‘They expect me to do all the talking. Sometimes I wish people wouldn’t expect so much.’
I ignore Trish as I open the door behind mine and bend inside to unbuckle Molly. Molly hums and groans as I gather her into my arms. I duck back out, wrestling with my daughter’s floppy body. Balancing on one leg, I push the door closed with my foot.
‘So, if your guest could park her car around the corner where there’s more space, I know everyone would be very grateful,’ Trish drones on.
‘Shh, shh, sweetheart,’ I say, running my hand through Molly’s hair as she stirs; Trish’s talking is waking her.
‘I miss Kayla,’ Molly mumbles in her sleep.
‘Me too,’ I whisper. ‘Me too.’
I think Trish is still talking as I turn my key in the front door. I turn on the step and face my neighbour whose lips are moving but I’m so tired I don’t even hear the words coming out of her mouth.
‘Goodbye, Trish,’ I say, turning back, stepping inside and slamming the door so roughly behind me the whole frame rattles.
I’m shaking as I place Molly on the couch in the sitting room. I pull off her shoes and take the throw from the back of the couch and drape it over her.
‘I love you, Mammy,’ Molly says, snuggling into the soft throw.
‘I love you too, my little princess.’
I flick on CBeebies and think about the bottle of red wine beside the fridge. The doorbell rings and I ignore it. I’m certain it’s Trish wanting to rant at me more.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and hit call on Gavin’s number as I make my way into the kitchen.
‘Hey you,’ my husband’s voice says after a single ring.
‘That was quick,’ I say.
‘I had my phone in my hand reading a text as your call came in.’
I’m comforted and calmer just hearing Gavin’s voice. ‘I’m just about to open some red and get a start on dinner. How do fajitas sound?’
‘Eh. Maybe just make something for yourself and Molly,’ Gavin says. ‘I’ll get take away later.’
‘What? Where are you?’ I ask. ‘I thought you’d be on the way home by now.’
‘I was. But Heather called. Kayla had a fall today.’
‘I know. Poor thing.’
‘Heather asked me to come in,’ Gavin says.
‘Oh. Is Kayla awake?’
Gavin pauses, and I guess he’s picked up on the surprise in my voice.
‘Molly and I were at the hospital earlier but Kayla was asleep.’
‘Ah, that’s a pity,’ Gavin sighs. ‘Kayla will be disappointed she missed Molly.’
‘Molly was disappointed too,’ I say. ‘I had to bribe her with a lollipop.’
Gavin chuckles. ‘Molly’s answer to most things is sugar.’
‘If Kayla is still asleep why are you going in? Would it not be better to wait until the morning when she actually knows you’re there?’
‘I think Heather could do with the support, to be honest,’ Gavin says. ‘She sounds completely worn out.’
I stop talking. I could do with the support. I’m completely worn out. I’ve barely seen Gavin in weeks. Molly hasn’t seen him at all because he’s gone in the morning before she wakes up and she’s in bed again before he makes it home.
‘Charlie, you there?’ Gavin says.
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘So, I’ll see you later, okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘Love you,’ Gavin whispers.
I hang up and slam my phone down on the kitchen counter. I grab a glass out of the cupboard and unscrew the lid on the wine and pour until it’s nearly flowing over the top of the glass. I guzzle a huge mouthful, followed by another and another. The glass drained, I set it on the counter and decide I better get on with making dinner before I pour any more or I’ll be pissed. I’m already light-headed.
I open the fridge an
d I’m just pulling out the vegetable crisper when there’s a thud in the sitting room followed by a high-pitched squeal and crying, and I hurry in to find that Molly has rolled off the couch.
Thirty
Heather
I turn my key in the lock, but the door doesn’t budge. Wiggling it doesn’t help much, and I’m afraid if I twist too hard the key will snap. I step down from the doorstep and sweep my eyes over the house. Everything is still and there are no lights on downstairs. There’s light on the landing but the bedrooms are all in darkness.
I really don’t want to ring the doorbell and wake Charlotte or Molly. I pull my key out of the door and I’m considering sleeping in my car when the door rattles from the inside and slowly creaks open.
‘You’re home,’ Charlotte says, as she swings the door back. ‘Oh.’ Her face falls and she pulls her already closed dressing gown a little tighter across her chest. ‘It’s you.’
My cheeks sting. I was already embarrassed, assuming I’ve woken her, but she makes her disappointment that I’m not Gavin so obvious, I’m not really sure what to say.
‘Sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you. I couldn’t get my key to work.’
Charlotte shakes her head, but her eyes are sleepy and even if she wasn’t upstairs in bed, I’ve clearly disturbed her from napping on the couch or something.
‘You have a key?’ she says.
‘Gavin gave it to me a couple of days ago. Didn’t he tell you?’ I say, wishing I hadn’t brought it up because clearly he’s forgotten to mention it and Charlotte is pissed off. I wonder if I should offer to give it back to her. I don’t really need a key; I’m never here unless either Gavin or Charlotte are home.
We both look up at the sky when a loud clatter of thunder rumbles overhead.
‘How’s Kayla?’ Charlotte asks, moving aside to let me in as an angry sky warns us it’s about to rain.
‘Not great,’ I say, shivering as the night wind clings to my bones. I wish I had a heavier coat than the leather biker jacket I grabbed when I left Cork in a panic.
‘Oh.’ Charlotte seems surprised; I thought she understood earlier that Kayla wasn’t well today.
‘She was awake and talking to Gavin when I left, but she didn’t touch her dinner and I know by her face she’s in pain even if she’s too stubborn to admit it.’
Charlotte shakes her head and her eyes round. ‘You know, Molly and I had fajitas tonight. There’re leftovers in the fridge.’
My tummy growls at the mere mention of food.
‘They’re vegan, of course,’ Charlotte warns, nodding firmly. ‘It’s a new recipe I got online, but you’re welcome to them.’ She twitches, unsure. ‘If you’re hungry, that is.’
‘Really?’ I say. ‘That would be great. I’m starving.’
‘Didn’t you get something to eat at the hospital?’ she asks.
I shake my head. ‘Didn’t really get the chance. I was in the canteen earlier, but I was so busy with muffins and the manager from hell – I just, sort of forgot… and then Kayla fell and…’
‘What’s the manager’s problem?’ Charlotte asks, switching places with me as I step inside.
‘Ugh, long story,’ I say, not wanting to get into it.
Charlotte stands on the doorstep for a couple of seconds, turning her head left and right and left again. A second clap of thunder, louder and angrier than the first, shakes the sky and Charlotte jumps.
‘Um, is everything okay?’ I ask.
‘Where are you parked?’ Charlotte asks, oddly.
‘Erm…’ I point, towards the opening of the cul-de-sac. ‘Around the corner. Is that a problem? I can move.’
‘No, no, no. Everything is fine.’
‘Ooo-kay,’ I say.
Charlotte is so odd, I think. Gavin’s mother must love her.
After a weird amount of time when I’m not sure if I should head into the kitchen and pop fajitas in the microwave or wait for Charlotte to lead the way, she finally closes the door with a ferocious bang. I cock my ear and listen for Molly upstairs. She doesn’t stir, and I don’t realise I’m holding my breath until Charlotte is right beside me in the hall.
‘Fajitas.’ She clicks her fingers, and even though this is her house she’s somehow inadvertently let me know she feels as weird as I do.
‘Thank you,’ I say, following her into the kitchen.
I pull out a chair from the table but stop it halfway between the table and me. I wonder if I should offer to help; although there’s not much to reheating fajitas. Or maybe I should just sit and let her plate up. I wonder what would make her comfortable. I know neither will help me.
‘Erm, don’t suppose you’d like a coffee?’ I ask.
‘No.’ Charlotte doesn’t elaborate, and if I felt awkward before, now is positively painful.
Charlotte places a plate of shrivelled fajitas in the microwave. A flash of lightning strikes and illuminates the whole garden for a split second and the kitchen lights flicker as if shivering with fear.
‘Oh God, I hope the power doesn’t go out,’ Charlotte says, turning on the microwave as if she’s racing time. ‘Molly is terrified of the dark.’
‘Do you usually lose power in a storm?’ I ask, trying to sound casual while panicking inside about how on earth I’m going to bake a couple of dozen brownies and muffins without an oven.
‘Depends how bad the storm is.’ Charlotte shrugs, looking out the window for clues about how the weather might behave.
The microwave beeps, demanding attention, but both Charlotte and I are staring out the window at the torrential rain that’s erupted and is pounding the patio with large, angry drops.
‘Drink?’ Charlotte says suddenly, breaking into my worried thoughts.
I nod. ‘That’d be great Thanks.’
‘Red or white?’
‘Wine?’ I ask, exhaustion and hunger catching up with me. ‘I don’t really mind.’
‘Okay.’
Charlotte pours the remainder of one bottle of red into a glass before opening the microwave and lifting out the plate that I know by her expression is much too hot to hold. She drops it onto the countertop and fetches another bottle of wine from the rack above the fridge.
‘I only have red,’ Charlotte announces as if that’s some sort of failing.
‘I like red,’ I say, wondering why I said that. I do like red wine, but I really don’t feel like alcohol right now. I really need food, water and sleep.
Charlotte fills a second glass and sets one down on each side of the table. She walks away again to retrieve the plate of shrivelled fajitas and reluctantly places them next to me.
‘They looked better earlier,’ she says.
‘They look great,’ I say. I’m lying and we both know it. But they do smell good and I wonder if I should wait for Charlotte to sit down before I tuck in.
Charlotte ignores the wine she’s poured for herself and walks back to the sink. She pulls on a pair of bright-yellow rubber gloves as if the washing up is suddenly important.
‘Gavin loves fajitas,’ she says, turning on the taps.
‘I know,’ I say, biting into a fajita. They may not look like much but they taste great.
‘I was keeping those for him.’
I stop chewing and look down at the plate that Charlotte has suddenly made clear is her husband’s dinner.
‘I’ve been keeping dinners for Gavin and then throwing them out when he doesn’t get home.’ She sighs.
I begin chewing again, too hungry to be polite.
‘I’m not sure why I bother, really,’ she says, staring into the sink. ‘It’s usually so late when he gets home that he’s too tired to eat.’
I swallow. I’m not sure if Charlotte is blaming me or if she just wants to vent and I’m the only person here to listen.
‘It’s exhausting,’ I say as Charlotte drags steel wool vigorously over and back against a baking tray. ‘For all of us.’
‘Molly misses him,’ Charlotte says.
‘They were amazing,’ I say, placing my used plate on the countertop next to the sink. ‘Thank you.’
Charlotte snatches the plate out from under my fingertips and ducks it under the water. ‘I’m glad someone got to enjoy them. Do you have any idea when Gavin will be home?’
I look at her blankly and wonder why she’s asking me that question and not him. I shrug. ‘I think he’ll wait till Kayla’s asleep. I hope so, anyway.’
‘Yeah,’ Charlotte says. ‘I’m sure he’ll text.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, my eyes weighing heavy with tiredness. I walk back to the table and reach for the wine. I surprise myself with how easily the first mouthful slides down. ‘This is really nice.’
‘It’s French,’ Charlotte says. ‘And organic. I only drink organic. Anything else gives me a headache and an even worse hangover. I think it’s the sulphites.’
‘I’m not sure what a sulphite is, but it doesn’t sound good,’ I say.
‘It’s just a chemical. And I think there’s enough chemicals in our life without adding more. If I can eat and drink healthily, I do.’
‘But isn’t alcohol technically a poison?’ I say.
Charlotte turns away, but I don’t miss her roll her eyes as she does. ‘Do you need to charge your phone or anything?’ she asks, pointing towards a socket with a charger plugged in. ‘You know, in case the power goes.’
‘Yeah. Good idea,’ I say. ‘I bought a power bank in the hospital shop the other day but suppose I should keep that for emergencies.’
Charlotte nods and I know she’s stopped listening. She peels off her rubber gloves, hangs them over the edge of the sink and walks over to the table to fetch her glass of wine. ‘Right. I’m knackered. I’m going to go watch some telly. You’re welcome to join me. Help yourself to s’more wine too, if you like. I don’t plan to get up again once I sit down.’
My glass is still full to almost overflowing and something from the fajitas is repeating on me. I tell myself that half an hour of telly could be good. It might help me unwind rather than lying in bed tossing and turning for hours the way I’ve done the last few nights. I take another mouthful of wine, and another, and I can feel myself slowly relax. I wonder if Charlotte is onto something with this sulphur business because this is genuinely nice. I tilt the glass slightly and give it a little swirl the way they do on those posh cookery shows. The wine swirls more vigorously than I mean it to and a smidge splashes out over the edge and onto the cream porcelain floor tiles.
The Forever Gift Page 16
