by K. L. Slater
I’ve lost weight without trying, even though I’ve been careful to eat regularly and cook myself and Maisie a meal each evening. The appetite just isn’t there.
It’s surprising the effect four or five pounds can have on the fit of your clothes when it just melts away without effort.
I find myself hoping Shaun has noticed, and then I remember Joanne’s svelte body and designer labels. I probably don’t look very impressive to him at all.
‘You look well,’ he says when I return with two lattes.
‘Thanks,’ I say, sitting down.
I don’t return the compliment, even though I’ve noticed he’s wearing a Hugo Boss navy sports jacket I haven’t seen before, and I recognise that fresh citrus scent again. It certainly makes a startling change from the dull, woody aftershave he’s worn since the first day I met him.
‘So, Joanne and I were talking about the girls last night.’ He jumps straight in. ‘They already know each other from dancing, but as Joanne says, they have different sets of friends. So she’s come up with a great idea to arrange a day together, all four of us, to give them a chance to get to know each other properly.
‘OK,’ I say, a little disarmed. ‘It’s important we discuss telling Maisie about you moving out first, though.’
‘I agree. Totally. But I think Jo’s suggestion could tie in with that quite nicely.’
Jo?! Last month I heard her tear a strip off an intern for calling her that.
‘I’m all ears,’ I say drily.
‘Jo’s daughter, Piper, is a sweet girl. I think she and Maisie will get on brilliantly.’
This is my chance to voice my concerns.
‘While we’re on the subject of Piper, are you aware she’s a bit of a madam? If you picked Maisie up from dancing a bit more regularly, you’d see her kicking off at her mother in front of everyone. It’s embarrassing.’
‘Oh!’ Shaun looks nonplussed. ‘I don’t know about that, but I’m sure Joanne has it under control.’
‘That’s just it, though; she doesn’t seem to have any control over Piper’s behaviour, which worries me if Maisie is going to be spending time in her company. And Piper sometimes wears clothes that are way too old for her, in my opinion.’
Shaun discounts my concerns with a flick of his wrist.
‘Joanne has suggested we all go to the Superbowl in town. It’s a good way for the girls to meet in a nice, informal way, and then we’ll go back to Jo’s place for food.’
‘And how does that fit with telling Maisie you’re moving out?’ I ask. ‘At the moment, she thinks you’re just working away.’
‘I was intending to tell her on Saturday. Just casually, sort of play it down.’
‘I don’t think that’s acceptable at all, Shaun.’ I push my coffee away. The thought of all that rich, creamy milk makes me feel sick. ‘Maisie is an intelligent girl, as you know. She’s old enough now that she’s bound to have questions, and she might well get upset. I think she needs to be in a safe environment like home when you tell her. Not in the middle of Superbowl.’
‘Oh, that’s disappointing.’ He deflates a little. ‘But I see your point, I suppose.’
‘I think bowling is a good place for her to get to know Joanne and Piper, but we need to tell her about us and about you moving out first.’ I tap my fingernail on the tabletop. ‘Perhaps Saturday is a bit of a rush. It’s a lot for her to take in; she gets the news that her dad is moving out and then within two days she meets his new girlfriend and her daughter.’
He shifts in his seat.
‘Like Jo says, kids are resilient. I think this stuff is best out in the open.’
‘I agree, but really, what’s the rush? Can’t you just wait another week or two?’
A couple of people at nearby tables turn to look at us, and I stare back, annoyed and confused as to why they’re taking an interest in our conversation.
‘No, I’m not prepared to wait just because you can’t handle it.’ He stands up, his coffee also untouched. ‘I was hoping you’d be reasonable about this, Emma, but I can see you’re intent on being as awkward as ever.’
‘Hang on!’ My mouth drops open. ‘Sit down, please, Shaun. I’m not being awkward; I’m thinking about our daughter, that’s all.’
‘Are you?’ He steps aside and pushes his chair under the table. ‘Are you really thinking about Maisie’s best interests here, or is it a case of being more interested in putting obstacles in my path?’
‘Shaun, you’re being unreasonable. I—’
‘If you want to see who the unreasonable one is here,’ he says snidely as he walks away, ‘then I suggest you take a look in the mirror.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Shaun texts me ten minutes after walking out of the café to say he’ll be at the house at 6.30 so we can tell Maisie together.
It angers me how he arrogantly picks the time and expects me to be free at his convenience. But I force myself to send a simple text back to say it’s fine.
I’m treading on eggshells with him at the moment. He’s displaying personality traits that are the polar opposite to the ones I’ve lived with during our marriage. There is no sign of the dithering and self-doubt that plagued him and irritated me for years. Any such weaknesses seem to have melted away overnight.
Sadly, as I know only too well, those old insecurities have a habit of popping right up again just when you think you’re rid of them for good.
For now, though, Shaun is flying high and seems to be giving himself full credit.
I’m due to pick Maisie up from her dance class at six o’clock, so that will give me time to feed and water her before Shaun arrives for our chat.
I get out of the car and walk around it to the front door, stopping dead as I pass the corner of the house. The small opaque side window, the downstairs loo, is broken. When I inspect it, I see it’s still in one piece but fractured, cracks radiating out from a central puncture. There’s no glass on the floor and no sign of a rock or stone. In fact, it looks just as if someone has punched the glass in temper.
I shiver and rush around the front of the house to open the door. Inside, I peer at the glass from the inside. The middle of the window bows in slightly where contact has been made.
I feel sure the window is too small for anyone to climb through, but still. Tendrils of dread begin to stir in my stomach and I leave the tiny room and close the door behind me.
There’s probably a perfectly simple explanation that evades me at the moment. I make a real effort to push the troubling thoughts away. I can’t go back to that place. I just can’t.
I throw myself into making Maisie’s favourite chocolate spread sandwiches for tea. I’m making an exception tonight and skipping our usual hot meal – I have no appetite and I’m certain food will be the last thing on Maisie’s mind once her dad gets here.
I can’t second-guess how she will react to the news. It makes it more difficult as Shaun and I haven’t actually discussed how we’ll approach it.
I feel fairly confident that, if it’s done in the right way, Maisie is happy and confident enough that she’ll take it all in her stride and cope admirably. That’s been my experience of her attitude to change so far, at any rate.
I take a sharp knife from the block and cut the sandwich into four dainty triangles, the way Maisie likes them.
But I pull the knife away too sharply and it nicks the edge of my left index finger, drawing blood.
I curse and suck the tiny wound while I open the kitchen drawer and pull out a packet of plasters, awkwardly wrapping a small one round my finger.
I place her sandwich on a plate and wrap the whole thing in cling film before putting it in the fridge. I’m so clumsy lately. I broke the wine glass and yesterday I dropped a plate, which bounced painfully off my foot before breaking in two on the kitchen floor.
Distraction, that’s what it is. I shouldn’t be dreading this conversation with Shaun and Maisie; I ought to welcome the chance to get things o
ut in the open so we can start to work towards a new routine for our lives.
I hate all this turmoil and unfamiliar territory; I’m exasperated by the broken window I just discovered. I need more stability and less confusion.
Otherwise, I’ll start to feel weird again.
Maisie bounces out of class, over to the car.
‘We had to do jumping jacks for ages and Miss Diane chose the best three – and I was one of them!’
‘Brilliant! Well done.’ I lean over and kiss her on the forehead. Her shiny dark curls bounce at the side of her beaming face and her cheeks are ruddy and round, bunching up either side of her nose.
The relative peace and calm of the car interior is zinging with energy and I can’t help but smile.
‘What’s for tea?’ Always her first question when she’s told me how the class went.
‘Well, you might be surprised to hear that you’ve got chocolate spread sarnies and a bag of crisps.’
‘Seriously?’ She throws me a sideways glance to check if I’m joking.
‘Seriously,’ I confirm. ‘Relaxed tea tonight because your dad is coming over.’
‘Over from where?’ She takes a sip of water from the cooler flask I have waiting for her after class. She’s thoughtful for a moment before her face lights up. ‘Can we all watch a film together?’
I swallow. ‘I’m not sure there’ll be time for that. I mean, he’ll be home for just a little while before he has to go off to work again.’
Her smile dims. ‘He’s always working. He’s hardly ever home now.’
I start the car, check the mirror and pull out into a gap in the traffic. As we gather speed, I notice Joanne Dent’s Mercedes parked in its usual spot on double yellows outside the dance studio’s door.
I crane my neck to look as we pass and see she isn’t at the wheel.
‘Well, he’ll be home for a while tonight, so that’ll be nice.’
Maisie doesn’t reply, and I’m reminded of how awkward it’s going to be if she doesn’t get an explanation soon about why Shaun is always absent.
Our daughter is a smart cookie. She deserves to know the truth and she’s obviously already noticed things are changing.
I can only fob her off for so long. I should feel relieved, not anxious, that we’re speaking to her tonight.
‘So, who were the other two students Miss Diane picked out?’
Her bouncy energy has dissipated, and from the way she stares straight ahead at the road before answering, I guess she’s less than satisfied with my answers about Shaun’s brief visit tonight.
‘Carly and Piper,’ she says flatly.
My heartbeat races a little at the mention of Piper’s name.
‘That’s nice,’ I remark.
‘Piper wasn’t the best, though,’ Maisie says bluntly. ‘Pia was much better, but Piper always gets picked for stuff because of who her mum is.’
It does surprise me that Joanne obviously expects special treatment for her daughter, just because she owns the premises. She’s quite low-key at work but seems to have a blind spot when it comes to anything to do with Piper.
‘That’s a bit unfair,’ I say gently as I slow the car and join a queue of traffic at the lights. ‘I’m sure Piper is a good dancer and I wouldn’t think Miss Diane would pick her if—’
‘Miss Diane picks her because of who her mum is and also because Piper sulks like anything if she isn’t chosen,’ Maisie complains. ‘She’s already telling people she’s going to get the role of Dorothy in the Christmas show.’
The Wizard of Oz is the annual dance show this year. It’s a big event for the school and, thanks to ongoing sponsorship from Walker, Dent and Scott, is usually quite a glitzy affair with a generous budget.
‘I’m sure the roles will be fairly chosen,’ I say mildly. ‘After all, Piper was Annie last year so it’s only fair for someone else to have a turn in the spotlight.’
‘I bet I end up being a boring Munchkin,’ Maisie says crossly.
This is not the best way for our conversation to go, I reflect as I turn the car into our road. Maisie was bright and in a good mood when I picked her up, and somehow I’ve succeeded in turning that around so she’s now moody and quiet.
She sits up straight and leans forward, straining against her seat belt.
‘Dad’s already here!’ She instantly brightens.
Shaun’s outsized Audi fills the driveway and I feel a snag of irritation that he’s acting as if he still lives here. I always parked on the road in front of the drive, in line with Shaun’s theory that any car thieves in the area would be interested in his car rather than mine. But now, it’s most definitely my spot.
On top of this, a good few days ago I asked him, and then when that didn’t work, I told him, in no uncertain terms, not to use his door key and to text in advance if he was coming to the house instead of just turning up.
As soon as the car stops, Maisie’s door flies open and she jumps out and races up the drive. The front door opens and Shaun holds out his arms for her to run into. I feel relieved she hasn’t noticed the broken window. I don’t want her worrying about it.
I reach into the back seat to retrieve my handbag and also to grab Maisie’s dance bag that she left there in her rushed exit.
I trudge up the drive and Shaun, still locked in Maisie’s embrace, looks over her head. ‘Hi. What’s the long face for?’
‘That conversation we had about your key?’ I say cryptically so Maisie won’t pick up on it. ‘Remember?’
‘You couldn’t let me in because you weren’t here,’ he says simply.
‘You knew where I was, though. You could have waited in the car for a few minutes,’ I say, looking pointedly at the driveway. ‘I’ll have to move into my spot once you’ve gone.’
He kisses Maisie on the top of her head. ‘Oh, we’re in for a fun evening, aren’t we, poppet? Sounds like Mum has got dragon breath again.’
Maisie laughs heartily and takes his hand, and they both disappear into the house, leaving me on the path, loaded down like a donkey.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Inside the house, I dump the bags near the door, slip off my shoes and walk into the kitchen, ignoring the mail that Shaun has obviously picked up from the floor and placed on the side table.
I swallow down my annoyance at his arrogant attitude and instead resolve to make our talk with Maisie a success. She is what’s important here.
Maisie dashes past me, up to her room, to grab something to show her dad and I seize the opportunity to tell Shaun about the broken window.
He walks into the hallway and I follow as he opens the door to look at the fractured glass.
‘Luckily it’s not broken,’ he says mildly. ‘Probably a bird flew into it or something.’
‘A bird? It must’ve been going at speed to do that damage, and I’d have expected to have seen it dead or injured on the path.’ I hesitate. ‘It looks to me like someone has punched the glass,’ I whisper, to avoid Maisie hearing. ‘But who would want to do that?’
‘Exactly. You answered your own question, Em. Maybe time to knock off reading those crime novels of yours, eh?’ He laughs. ‘I’ll sort out a repair, don’t worry.’
Maisie bounces back into the room with her English exercise book and the silver star that Mrs Tetley gave her for her story about a rabbit with a misshapen foot who dreams of becoming a dancer. I confess it brought a lump to my throat when I read it.
‘Wow!’ Shaun’s mouth falls open. ‘This is amazing, and you know what, I know two people who would love you to read it to them.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, a good friend of mine, a lovely lady called Joanne, and her daughter Piper – you know them from dancing, I think?’
Maisie stares.
‘Piper Dent, you mean?’ she says incredulously.
Shaun’s eyes dart my way but he doesn’t look directly at me.
‘That’s her! I happen to know that Joanne and Piper love stor
ies and I reckon they’d adore this one.’
I stand in the doorway, hands on hips. Is he intending to tell her all on his own?
‘How do you even know what they like?’ Maisie demands.
This might be a key moment, but I’m not going to let him cut me out of the conversation. We agreed to tell Maisie together.
I walk to the fridge and pull out the sandwiches I prepared earlier.
‘Hello. Mind if I join you?’ Predictably, Shaun misses my sarcastic intent. ‘Coffee?’
‘Sure,’ he says, looking back at Maisie, relieved, I think, by the interruption. ‘Thanks.’
I hand Maisie the plate.
‘Thought you said I can have crisps, too?’
‘I think you mean, Thank you for the sandwiches.’ I frown. ‘I’ll get your crisps now.’
‘Thanks,’ she mutters as I walk to the cupboard, but not before I turn and catch her rolling her eyes at Shaun behind my back. I really don’t like the way this is going.
I fill the kettle, flick the switch on and carry Maisie’s crisps over to the seating area.
‘There you go, pumpkin.’ I hand her the packet. ‘Dad’s come over so we can all have a chat together.’
‘Dad thinks Piper Dent would like to read my story,’ Maisie says mutinously, opening the crisps.
‘I’m certain she would,’ he says.
‘Yeah, right. She’s not interested in anyone but herself.’
Shaun sits up straighter amongst the soft cushions, but his shoulders slump a little and I spot that he is chewing the inside of his top lip.
Maisie takes a small bite of a neat triangle of bread, her eyes never leaving her dad’s face.
‘The thing is,’ he begins. ‘You know I’ve got lots of work on now, right, Maisie?’
She nods.
‘Well, me and Mum decided it might be easier if—’
No way. I’m not letting him pull this dirty trick.
‘Your dad has made a decision, Maisie.’
