by K. L. Slater
‘Yes, I made a decision… partly because of work.’ He glares at me and then softens his face when he realises Maisie is still watching him. ‘I thought it would be much easier for me to live over the other side of town… to make getting to work easier.’
Maisie frowns. ‘But will this still be your home?’ She turns to me. ‘Dad still lives here, doesn’t he, Mum?’
I look at him and raise an eyebrow.
‘Well… no, I don’t live here any more, not exactly. But I’m not too far from here, and I want you to come and—’
‘Why do you need to live somewhere else if it’s not far from here anyway?’
I study Maisie’s side profile, fascinated. Her still childlike podgy cheeks and upturned nose. All the features of who she’ll become are there now and she’s changing. Growing up by the day.
Her reasoning in questioning Shaun has stunned me. She’s challenging his banal, simplified explanation, interrogating him on what he wants to portray as a simple decision.
In some ways she’s not a child any more. She’s not easily misled and has logical questions that she expects answers to. I feel proud of her and, if I’m honest, a modicum of satisfaction at seeing my husband wriggling on the hook when he thought it would be so easy to tell his nice cosy story and leave the house unscathed.
‘It’s not that far but it’s nearer the motorway, poppet, so it’s far more convenient for work, you see.’
‘But you’re hardly ever here on weekends either,’ she presses him.
Shaun sighs and rubs the heels of his palms on his jeans. He looks at me, but I turn back to Maisie. Reach for her hand.
‘Well, it’s probably not quite as simple as it sounds,’ he says hesitantly. ‘You see, me and Mum, we’re… we’ve been going through a bit of a rough time and we thought the space would do us good.’
‘Are you splitting up?’ Maisie’s clear voice cuts through Shaun’s waffle. She looks at her father and then turns to look at me. ‘Are you?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘We are, my love.’
‘Emma!’ Shaun’s nostrils flare.
‘We need to tell her the truth,’ I snap back. ‘She’s not a little kid any more, Shaun. She can handle it.’
‘Yes, but you make it sound so… so final.’ He presses his lips together.
‘Sorry, am I missing something?’ I let out a bitter laugh. ‘I thought you’d made your mind up that you’re moving out. Aren’t you sure?’
‘Of course I am. Why do you always have to—’
He stops talking and we both look at our daughter, who is sitting there silently, sandwiches abandoned, staring vacantly into space.
I look meaningfully at Shaun, hoping he’ll join me in rescuing the situation for Maisie’s sake.
‘It sounds horrible, I know that, sweetie,’ I say, squeezing her hand. ‘But trust me, it will be better for all of us.’
‘I’ll see more of you, Maize,’ Shaun adds. ‘I’ll still be around loads.’
I don’t like the way he puts that. I can’t let him think he can just come and go whenever he wants, like he still lives here.
‘You’ll have set days when Dad will come and pick you up, and I’m sure he’ll have lots of great things planned for the two of you.’
‘You bet.’ Shaun sits down on the other side of Maisie and holds her other hand. ‘It sounds a big deal, but life will be better. Trust me.’
Maisie turns to him. Speaks quietly.
‘Piper’s mum, Joanne Dent… Is she your new girlfriend?’
If it wasn’t such a sad, dire situation, I would have laughed out loud at the way Shaun’s jaw drops.
‘I… No, not really. Not yet. I…’ He looks at me pleadingly.
‘She’s your dad’s friend,’ I say simply, and he nods gratefully.
‘That’s right, pumpkin. Joanne is my friend and she wants us all to go out for the day on Saturday. I know she really likes you and I bet you and Piper could be really good friends too.’
Maisie shifts in her seat and a sandwich falls off her plate onto the floor.
‘I don’t think we can ever be friends,’ she says. ‘I don’t think she likes me… and I can’t stand her.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
That night, for the first time in a long time, I dream I’m back at Clayton and McCarthy again.
I worked there for two years. I enjoyed my job and my colleagues were all pleasant and easy to get along with. Except for one paralegal, Damian Murphy.
He made no secret of his burning ambition to become a fully qualified solicitor, and separated himself from us lowly minions in the admin department, acting as if he was a cut above the rest of us.
In the dream, I’m in the staff car park at the start of the day. Except it isn’t the staff car park, it’s suddenly a very busy supermarket car park, in that way dreams have of lurching from one reality to another.
My heart is racing and I’m anxious because every time I go for a space, someone else beats me to it.
Then I’m teleported somehow into the office building to find I’m one of the last ones in. The others are all scurrying around like soldier ants, following orders barked at them by Damian.
‘Afternoon, Emma.’ He glances pointedly at the wall clock. ‘The boss has asked me to check the court report you compiled yesterday. Shall we say…’ He looks at his wrist watch. ‘Ten minutes at my desk?’
When I look down at the floor, the report is scattered in torn pages all around my feet.
‘I don’t know what silly game you’re trying to play here, Emma, but some of us are serious about this case. Some of us are serious about our careers.’
The pages at my feet turn into hissing snakes, squirming and sliming over and around my shoes.
‘Emma?’ I look up at the curt tone and see Damian tapping his watch. ‘Where are your notes?’ Again and again he repeats it: ‘Where are your notes? Where are your notes?’ And each time he speaks, his voice gets slower and lower, like an old record slowing right down, and when I look up at him, his eyes glow red and his skin is burned and his teeth are…
Suddenly, there is a line of vehicles in front of me. My recollection of the dream clicks off like a light and I’m very firmly back in the present.
‘Shit!’ I jump on the brakes and stop about an inch from the car in front as it slows for the lights.
I open the windows and drag in some air, feeling sick at the near-miss. It was just a nonsensical dream, that’s all, and I need to treat it as such. No sense in trawling through it all again.
What happened at Clayton and McCarthy is in the past and it needs to stay there. Sorting my life out now is where my energy needs to go.
I force myself to focus on my driving, and when I arrive at the office, I don’t go to my desk as usual. Instead, I keep climbing the stairs to the second floor.
There have been times in the past, when I was wrestling with the realisation that things were going wrong in my marriage, when I’d lie awake for hours with Shaun fast asleep beside me.
They were long, lonely nights, when I’d turn everything over in my mind relentlessly, never arriving at any conclusions, just taking a kind of masochistic pleasure in reliving the harsh words and heated arguments, reviewing the promises we’d both broken.
There was never a constructive outcome, just the abject tiredness that followed, dragging myself through the day-to-day work and the stresses of family life that would not abate.
I feel just as exhausted now, but I can’t shirk from doing what needs to be done.
I walk down the carpeted corridor and head for Joanne’s office. I see her look up through the glass wall, see her expression darken when she spots me.
She has her phone in her hand, and she puts it down and bends her head to the paperwork strewn on her desk, feigning absorption in her work.
I tap on the door and she looks up again. The dark expression has gone and has been replaced with a look of faint irritation. She is wearing her usual natural ma
ke-up, but her face is drained of colour.
‘Emma,’ she says as I push the door open a little way.
‘Sorry to bother you so early, Joanne,’ I say. ‘I just wanted a quick word… if possible.’
‘Again?’ she says pointedly. ‘I’m sorry, Emma, but as you can see’ – she waves a hand at the copious paperwork in front of her – ‘I’m up to my eyes in case files.’
I don’t know why, but I find myself ignoring her obvious rebuttal. I step inside the office, closing the door behind me. Her eyes widen.
I clear my throat. ‘I just wanted to say that Shaun and I told Maisie last night. About you and him, about him moving out of the house.’
Her hands, about to sort through the papers yet again, freeze above them instead.
‘You really don’t need to update me on every conversation you two have. Shaun keeps me up to date with all the salient details.’
Her eyes dart next door to her PA’s office, but Anya has her back turned to the glass dividing wall and is currently absorbed in an animated telephone conversation.
‘Can I sit down a moment, Joanne?’
‘I think I said last time you were here, I’d rather not discuss personal business whilst at work.’
She pushes her phone a little further away from her, and I can see on the large lit screen that she’s been looking at Facebook.
She taps the end of her pen on the table. ‘But just so you know, Shaun did tell me you’d all had a chat.’
Of course he did.
‘He said Maisie took it well. I’m very much hoping the girls will get on.’
Maisie’s comment about the girls disliking each other echoes in my head, and I push it aside. ‘We told Maisie about your trip out at the weekend. Obviously she was a little shocked, but she knows you and Piper from dancing, so you won’t be complete strangers. I just…’
‘Yes?’
‘I just want to reiterate that Maisie is a sensitive child…’
‘We’ve been through this before, Emma.’
‘… and Piper, she seems used to getting her own way. Maisie is used to boundaries and—’
‘I don’t want to listen to this.’ She stands up and stalks over to the door, holding it open. ‘Your daughter isn’t extra special, Emma, or, according to Shaun, extra sensitive. It will do her good, I’m sure, to get away from… to get out a bit more.’
I burn with fury as I imagine Shaun telling Joanne that I’m paranoid and that Maisie will be better off away from me.
‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.’ Joanne turns back to her desk. ‘As I’m sure you have too,’ she adds.
Back at my desk, and buoyed by the intimacy of our recent conversations, I pick up my phone and open Facebook.
In the search bar at the top, I type in her name.
Three small profile pictures for people called Joanne Dent load underneath my search and I immediately spot that the top one is her.
The cover photo is blank and the profile picture can’t be expanded. Disappointingly, I see there is no visible detail on her profile page. Her information is locked down pretty solid.
In some ways, it’s not at all surprising; I’ve always known Joanne is a very private person. I wouldn’t have dreamed of contacting her on Facebook previously, but that was before she struck up a relationship with my ex-husband and my daughter.
We are now bound together in ways I couldn’t have envisaged, and for obvious reasons, Joanne’s private life is of paramount interest to me.
My finger moves to the top of her page, and before I’ve really given it any thought, I find myself clicking on the Add Friend button.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Val
‘You look really lovely, darling.’ Val sat on the edge of the bed, watching Maisie study herself in the mirror.
‘I don’t like these jeans.’ Maisie pulled at the denim. ‘I’ve had them for ages now, Gran. I bet Piper is wearing something brand new.’
Val didn’t like the sound of this other girl very much, child or not. Three pets in the last year, all sent to new homes now, apparently. A little fashion horse at the age of ten and, according to Emma, a bit of a diva at the dance studio, too.
‘Never mind what she has or hasn’t got. You don’t need new clothes to look perfectly lovely.’
Maisie stepped away from the mirror and gave a heavy sigh.
‘I feel a bit sick. I wish I didn’t have to go out with them today.’
‘Nobody’s said you have to go, you know that. You’re choosing to go because it will be nice to spend the day with your dad and to meet his new friend and her daughter, who’ll hopefully become one of your friends in time, too.’
‘Joanne is Dad’s girlfriend,’ Maisie corrected. ‘He’s saying they’re just friends because he thinks I’m stupid.’
‘Whatever, it doesn’t really matter.’ Val found she couldn’t quite acknowledge her son-in-law getting involved in another relationship so soon. ‘I’m sure Joanne and… Piper, is it? I’m sure the two of them will be feeling equally nervous about making a good impression on you.’
Maisie pulled a face. ‘You don’t know her, Gran. Piper doesn’t get nervous about anything.’
Val stood up and drew Maisie into her arms. Her little granddaughter was becoming more grown up every day, but sometimes everyone needed a cuddle.
‘I think I’ve heard quite enough about Miss Piper. I’m far more interested in the very clever, very beautiful Miss Maisie.’
She planted a kiss on the top of her granddaughter’s head and Maisie looked up gratefully. ‘Thanks, Gran.’
‘Now,’ Val said, checking her watch. ‘You’ve got a few minutes to pack any bits you might need in your bag. And don’t forget your inhaler.’
Maisie nodded and began to gather her things together, while Val went back downstairs and stood in the lounge, looking out onto the road.
It was a shame Emma couldn’t be here to see Maisie off. She’d agreed to work on Saturday morning, apparently, to compile stuff for an urgent case that had just come in.
If Val didn’t know better, she’d think that Emma’s only priority was her career. That was where she seemed to focus all her efforts and time these days.
Val knew her daughter thought the world of Maisie, but just lately, she seemed to have developed the dubious strategy of pushing away thoughts of her broken marriage by throwing herself into her job.
Val had tried to broach the subject with her several times recently, but it seemed that Emma always conveniently remembered something pressing she had to do before scurrying off.
Today wasn’t simply a trip out to the bowling alley. It was a very big deal for Maisie.
It was going to be hard for the child: a whole day stretching in front of her, knowing she’d be seeing her father in the company of a new woman and her daughter. It would be all too easy for her to feel as if she’d been replaced in her father’s affections by this girl Piper.
Val prayed that wasn’t the case.
Shaun had seemingly planned a day where they could have fun with little pressure. Sometimes Val felt that he seemed far more level-headed and mindful of their daughter’s well-being than Emma herself was.
At that moment, his oversized Audi drew up outside the front hedge.
Val could see there was someone in the passenger seat – Joanne, she presumed – and also a small face pressed up against the back window. Piper.
‘Maisie,’ she called, waving at Shaun through the window. ‘They’re here!’
Chapter Thirty
Maisie
When her gran called up that it was time to go, Maisie sat down on the end of her bed, closed her eyes and swallowed down the lump of sick in her throat.
She really didn’t want to spend the day with Piper Dent and her mum. She’d much prefer to be going out with just her dad. They’d have so much more fun.
Since he’d left home, stuff that used to be ordinary suddenly felt very different; awkward, e
ven.
When she thought back to life only a few months earlier, it seemed so relaxed and easy. Why did everything have to change?
‘Maisie, they’re waiting!’ her gran called again. ‘Come on.’
Maisie sighed, hooked her small pink rucksack over one arm and made her way down.
At the bottom of the stairs, Gran was waiting with a smile. She produced a large bag of Haribo Starmix, Maisie’s favourite, and tucked it into the top of her rucksack.
‘A little treat for you and your new friend.’ She smiled, and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Have a lovely time, my darling.’
‘Thanks, Gran,’ Maisie murmured.
Her throat felt dry and scratchy. Perhaps she was coming down with something. That was the phrase her mum always used when she felt a bit off-colour.
If she got ill whilst they were out, her dad would have to bring her back home. That would surely spoil the day for everyone, and Maisie thought it might be better just not to go in the first place.
‘Chop chop, off you go then.’ Gran opened the front door wide. ‘Give my love to your dad, sweetie.’
Maisie walked out of the house and down the path towards the car as her dad jumped out of the driver’s side, smiling, and waited at the gate to greet her.
She didn’t have a clear view of Joanne from here, but she could see Piper’s pert little nose pressed up against the window. Her breath had misted up the glass and settled like a little ring of fog around her mouth.
Maisie gave her a grin as she reached the gate and hugged her dad, but Piper didn’t smile back.
It took about twenty minutes to get to the bowling alley. It was located on a retail park with a large parking area. Maisie was the first to get out of the car.
She drew in a big breath of clean fresh air.
She’d felt trapped during the journey. Joanne had persisted in asking her lots of questions about all sorts of things: school, dancing and what Maisie’s hobbies were.
‘She loves reading, don’t you, Maize?’ Shaun said in a jolly voice.
