by K. L. Slater
She found a seat in the corner, away from crying children and fraught mothers. There were a lot of old people who looked thin and tired. It was a horrible place and she didn’t want to become ill.
Inside, she felt a dull ache of shame that she’d caused her mum such worry. At the same time, she didn’t know what to do about it.
Nobody liked her and Maisie could hardly blame them. It was true what she’d been told: the only chance she had to make things better was to become a slimmer, prettier and cleverer person. Being herself was just not good enough.
When she saw her body changing in the mirror, it felt like something good was happening. She was getting closer to her goal. Closer to being a girl her parents could love and be proud of. Yet the very thing that was worrying her mum and gran was the only thing she had to hold onto.
Not eating had become all she was good at, and maybe she would leave her alone if she did as she was told.
She had to do it for a little while longer. She had no choice.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Emma
I grab my bag and jacket and thunder downstairs and out of the office building, pulling the door closed behind me and pushing against it to make sure it has locked.
The cleaners come in three times a week, but today is not one of their set days, so I know there’ll be nobody here in the building until the morning, when one of the partners opens up.
Joanne never seems to be around these days, but I can’t say I’m disappointed about that. I thought she might haul me upstairs to discipline me for my outburst at the dance school, but so far I’ve had little reproof for it even from Shaun. It almost makes me more anxious.
I’m so grateful the work day is finally over and yet I’ve somehow managed to leave later than I should to pick up my daughter.
After Maisie’s doctor’s appointment this morning, I’ve been over-thinking the situation all day long. Do I play down her reluctance to eat, as per Dr Yesufu’s advice, or do I tackle it head on?
It’s often so easy to see what other people should do in a situation like this, but when emotions are running high, I’ve discovered that dealing with your own dilemma effectively is another thing entirely.
Driving to Maisie’s school this morning after we left the surgery, I said, on a whim, that if she wanted me to, I would speak to her dad about having a break from visiting Joanne’s house. Her face lit up at that, so I guess I must’ve done something right.
I push away thoughts of Shaun’s angry face when I confront him with her decision.
I half walk, half run towards the car, fishing blindly in my handbag for the keys. I don’t know how I’ve managed to forget the clock, however absorbed I’ve been in thinking through my problems.
I should have left fifteen minutes ago to be sure of arriving at the dance studio a few minutes before her class finishes. I know Mum is at her watercolour class tonight, which is held at a college on the outskirts of the city, so she’ll not be able to help out.
Soon as I get in the car, I’ll shoot a quick text over to Miss Diane to let her know I’ll be ten minutes late.
My stomach contracts when I realise this will be the third time this month. I silently swear to myself that it will be the last.
My fingers close on my keys and I press the button to unlock, but as I reach the car, all the urgency drains out of me. My posture deflates like a burst balloon and my jacket slips from the crook of my arm onto the gravel.
‘Oh no!’ I whisper.
The driver’s side back tyre is flat as a pancake. I stand stock still for a few moments, while I wait for a solution to present itself.
I bought the car a little while ago and one of the recurring niggles on my never-ending mental to-do list has been to join a vehicle rescue scheme. Periodically the task has surfaced in my mind, only to be repeatedly dampened down as I promise myself I’ll deal with it later. Of course, I never have.
And now this. The flat tyres on Shaun’s car a while ago niggle at the back of my mind, but I don’t allow my imagination any leeway.
I glance hopefully back at the building, as if someone who knows how to change a tyre might appear. But as I’m fully aware, I’m the last staff member to leave tonight.
Momentarily, I recall with regret that my go-to person for problems of this nature has always been Shaun. One panicky call from me and he’d appear as if by magic, sorting stuff out with the minimum of drama.
I’ve never learned how to change a tyre, had no reason to. But now, I realise, there are probably a hundred similar jobs I’ve always relied on him to step in on.
I could call a cab… if I hadn’t left my purse on the side this morning, knowing I had a banana and yoghurt in my bag and a fiver in the inside pocket.
There’s no time to ask the cab driver to stop by the house first for my purse, and in the meantime, the seconds are ticking by while I continue to dither.
I swallow my pride, grab my phone and call Shaun. Fully expecting the day to get worse and it to go to voicemail, I’m shocked when he actually answers.
‘I’m stuck at work with a flat tyre, and Maisie’s dance class has just finished,’ I bluster, furious at myself for appearing so rubbish in the face of what is probably his now seamlessly organised life. I’m pretty sure Joanne would never neglect something like rescue cover. ‘And Shaun? Someone has vandalised the garden.’
‘What?’ He’s incredulous.
‘It’s true. Ask Maisie. She found the plants torn out, and after the window, well, I’m worried someone might have—’
‘Calm down, Emma, focus on what’s important here. We need to talk, but now’s not the time,’ he says levelly. ‘Joanne is on her way over to the dance school to pick Piper up, I’ll ask her to pick Maisie up too.’
‘No! Can’t you do it?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. It doesn’t take two of us to pick up the girls and Jo will nearly be there now. Maisie can stay here with us tonight. Doesn’t sound as if you’ll be home yourself any time soon.’
He ends the call before I can explain that that’s not such a great idea. Perhaps Joanne didn’t tell Shaun exactly what I’d accused her of: damaging my daughter. Unpleasant bits of conversation are slowly coming back to me. I don’t want Maisie going around there any more. Shaun will need to take her out on his own, or come to the house to visit at agreed times. I have to try and get things back on a level, get Maisie into an ordinary routine.
Unless I call Shaun back, he won’t know all this, but the last thing I want is to keep Maisie and Miss Diane waiting any longer.
So I just stand there staring at the flat tyre. Feeling the most alone and vulnerable I have for years.
I finally get home about 7.30. By 7.45 I’ve changed into my comfies and I’m sitting with a coffee in the kitchen. There’s nothing I can do for Maisie now she’s with Shaun but still, I feel like I’ve betrayed her in a way.
I press the soles of my feet down onto the tiles and relish the warmth of the under-floor heating that kicks in automatically at four o’clock each day. I don’t bother closing the curtains. It’s too dark to see outside now, and when I stare at the glass, I see myself reflected back.
I get up and pull the blinds. You never know who might be out there, watching and waiting.
It was a sobering moment earlier, when I finished speaking to Shaun and realised I had nobody to call for help or advice.
People seem to have drifted away, out of my zone of acceptable contact. Friends, acquaintances… there is simply no one to turn to in an emergency.
I ended up googling a local garage who offered a relay rescue service. Within an hour, they came with a tow truck that wasn’t required. The mechanic changed my tyre and issued me with a handwritten invoice for eighty pounds for his trouble.
He was a stocky, gruffly spoken man with flecks of silver peppering his sandy hair, and wore a navy boiler suit, its poppers open to accommodate a stout belly sheathed in a T-shirt that looked as if it hadn’t been white f
or some time.
‘Don’t give credit normally. But seeing as you work here, we can sort something out.’ He crouched down to inspect the tyre, pinching at its flat edge. ‘Can’t see anything obvious; it’s maybe a slow puncture.’
‘Is it possible someone could have done this deliberately?’ I asked him. ‘It happened a few weeks ago too.’
He looked up at me and grinned.
‘Anything’s possible. I see a lot of strange things in this job, the pickles folks get themselves into.’ I tried not to look at his rotten teeth. ‘Depends if someone’s got a grudge against you, love. Anyone come to mind?’
Chapter Forty-Eight
I can’t think of a reason to stop Maisie visiting Shaun at Joanne’s house.
She wasn’t happy when Joanne picked her up from her class last week. I started to explain about my dilemma with the car but she just won’t hold a proper conversation with me these days.
‘I told you I didn’t want to go and you said you’d sort it, Mum,’ she says sulkily as she shuffles into the hallway. ‘But you haven’t sorted it and I’m going there more and more.’
‘At least you’re getting to see your dad quite a bit,’ I offer, but realise it sounds a bit dismissive. What can I do? Shaun won’t hear of anything being amiss with the arrangement and somehow, it’s become my problem when it’s all his doing in the first place.
I swallow down the twisty feeling I have inside, we kiss goodbye and I wave her off as Shaun’s car drives away. I don’t lie around downstairs, surfing endless crap on the Sky channels, but go upstairs to the study to work.
I have a really productive morning, easily completing the important tasks I’m responsible for on our current cases.
It’s one of those gorgeous winter days when it’s fine and sunny, and although I can sense the cool backdrop of winter lurking, there’s a faint warmth to the day, particularly in the big kitchen living space, flanked as it is by the French doors and their floor-to-ceiling expanse of glass.
At lunchtime, I take the trouble to set a few bits out on a wooden platter… just for one. Italian meats, a few olives, some sun-dried tomatoes and a sliver of Manchego I still had in the fridge. I slice up a small ciabatta roll and sit at the breakfast bar with the doors slightly open to enjoy the sharp freshness of the air which serves to clear my head a little.
It’s nice to feel like a grown-up and it makes me realise that I don’t really buy much food for me; I buy the stuff Maisie used to love and put an extra portion out for myself.
Why did Shaun and I never make the effort to enjoy a simple lunch like this together at weekends? We became like ships in the night, our only aim to cover care for our daughter. As if we – our relationship – never mattered.
After lunch, I lie on the sofa and read. I actually read! For all of ten minutes before I stop with a jolt and a panic that somehow I’ve forgotten to do something. But no. I haven’t forgotten anything. My case work is done, Maisie is safe with her dad… It’s simply a luxury I’ve never known but which I certainly intend to embrace from now on.
I spend the afternoon catching up on weeks’ worth of cleaning and ironing. Not such a luxury, but by late afternoon, as I sit with a cup of tea and a biscuit, the satisfaction is palpable.
It’s so true that small tasks can give a sense of achievement far beyond their perceived importance. Little pleasures, like a short nap, time to enjoy a simple lunch without multitasking. Just giving myself some time for me, rather than family, home or work.
It sounds silly, and of course I know on an intelligent level that there’s more to life than work. But it’s only now, at the ripe old age of thirty-four, that I’m finally understanding that simple stuff can enrich my life. Better late than never, I guess.
I jump up at a banging on the front door. Glancing at the wall clock as I dash into the hallway, I see it’s only just turned four o’clock.
I agreed with Shaun for Maisie to be back by six so she has time to have her bath and relax a bit before bed, and to be fair, he’s kept to our agreed timings since I expressed my annoyance after her late return from their farm visit.
I open the door and jump back in exaggerated surprise.
‘Well, I didn’t expect you back yet!’ I say in jest.
Maisie stumbles into the hallway. Her eyes are dark and haunted, and she doesn’t say a word as she slides past me like a shadow.
‘Whatever’s the matter?’ I look behind me, but she’s already darted into the depths of the house. Shaun stands there looking blank, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. ‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘The girls have had a nice afternoon, at a swimming party. One of Piper’s school friends whose mum said Maisie was welcome to go too. Apparently Maisie knows her from dancing.’
‘But Maisie didn’t take her swim stuff to yours.’
‘She borrowed one of Piper’s swimsuits.’ He shrugs.
‘OK, so they had a nice time at the party… then what happened?’
‘Nothing happened. Jo picked them up, and when Maisie got back, she just said she wanted to come home.’
I look back over my shoulder, but the house is quiet. Wherever Maisie is, she’s unusually silent.
‘Did you ask her why she wanted to come home early… if anything was wrong?’
‘Of course I did! I can perform parental duties perfectly well when you’re not around, you know.’
I wait for his defensiveness to ebb.
‘She said she just felt tired,’ he says, his voice dropping back to its usual octave. ‘That’s all. We wondered if you’d drilled it into her that she had to come home early.’
‘No. I haven’t.’
‘It’s bound to affect her, Em. Your paranoia.’ He stares at me. ‘These outbursts of yours… I feel like I hardly know you any more.’
‘I’d better go and see if she’s all right.’ I start to close the door. ‘Bye then.’
Just before it clicks shut, he calls out: ‘Emma?’
I open it again and stick my head out.
‘Don’t do that thing you always do.’
‘What thing?’
‘Make a big deal out of it with Maisie,’ he says, pulling his car keys out of his jacket pocket and jiggling them in his hand. ‘She’s fine and nothing happened. OK?’
I press my lips together and close the door without answering.
I’ve seen my daughter virtually every single day for the last ten years, and if there’s one thing I know for sure at this moment, it’s this:
Maisie is most certainly not fine.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Maisie sits neatly and quietly on the end of the couch, as if she’s somehow trying to make herself look smaller.
Her hands are folded in her lap, her rucksack is placed on the floor next to her shoe-clad feet, and she stares vacantly out of the glass doors at the garden beyond.
This is not usual behaviour for the girl who used to be bursting at the seams to tell me about her day. The television would be on within minutes of her arrival and the house filled with her singing and laughter. That seems like a long time ago now. Things have certainly changed, although she still won’t talk about it.
‘We can watch a film together later if you like.’ I sit down at the other end of the couch to give her some space.
She doesn’t look at me or answer, so I mirror her posture and we stare out of the window at the blossom tree’s bare branches, which wave slightly in the breeze. Just a few months ago they were a riot of pastel pink and green, decorating the lawn with petals.
‘Would you like a glass of juice?’ I ask after a few minutes.
She turns her head and looks at me with a forlorn expression. ‘Water, please,’ she croaks.
‘Water?’ I grin, trying to lighten the situation, although inside I feel a heat burning. ‘Are you on a health kick?’
She doesn’t answer, and when I take the drink over, I notice she’s slid her feet out of h
er shoes and bent her legs up onto the seat cushion. It’s a sign she’s relaxing a little, but I’m careful not to interrogate her, in line with Dr Yesufu’s advice.
‘I’ve got lots of work done today while you were with your dad,’ I volunteer.
‘I was hardly with Dad,’ she says quietly, staring down into her glass.
‘Oh, that’s right. He said you went to a party with Piper?’
I phrase it as a question to encourage her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. Her eyes gravitate to the window again.
‘It’s getting cooler out there,’ I remark. ‘No pretty pink petals on the blossom tree now.’
She nods, solemn.
‘Has Joanne got a big garden?’ I venture. ‘With a lawn and trees, I mean?’
‘She lives in an apartment at the top of an old house; Linby House, it’s called. There are massive gardens around it but they’re for everyone to use, not just her.’
‘Ah, yes. Communal gardens.’
After a beat of silence, Maisie speaks again. Her voice sounds choked.
‘I didn’t want to go to the party, but Dad said I had to.’
‘He did?’ I’m shocked.
‘He said I should go because I’d enjoy it, but I didn’t want to go because although it was a girl from the dance school, she hadn’t invited me. Only Piper.’
‘That’s probably because she goes to Piper’s school,’ I suggest. ‘It doesn’t sound as if she minded you tagging along.’
‘I don’t think she wanted me to go, but Joanne called her mum and said they were stuck with me for the day and could she bring me along.’
I swallow. ‘I’m sure she didn’t say she was stuck with you.’
Maisie stays quiet and I feel like I’ve just discounted her opinion.
‘At least you must have known some of the other girls from dancing.’
She nodded. ‘There were a few people there from ballet, and Miss Diane came to watch them do a dance they’d practised.’ Maisie hesitated. ‘I think the other girls hate me because I got lead role in the Christmas show.’
