by K. L. Slater
I spot Piper standing directly behind her and it looks as if she’s whispering something in Maisie’s ear, but as the girls step outside, Piper melts back into her own crowd. I recognise some of the girls in there as one-time good friends of Maisie.
My daughter descends the steps in front of the studio. There are no friends at all around her today, giggling together and showing each other pics of their favourite celebs or funny animal videos on their phones.
Her face looks drawn and pale, as if she’s been sitting quietly, not flushed like usual from bopping around.
She spots the car and runs down the steps and along the pavement without looking back.
‘Did you leave class on your own again today?’ I ask lightly when she opens the door.
She stuffs her dance bag down at her feet and folds her arms in a huff.
I start the car and pull a banana and a small carton of orange juice from the door pocket on my side.
‘Piper is now officially friends with all my friends. Every single one.’
‘Oh. Well that’s all right, isn’t it?’ I keep my voice light. ‘You can have the same friends.’
She shakes her head. ‘We had to get into friendship groups for a dance exercise and Piper got all my friends in hers and then said there was no room for me.’
I pass the fruit and drink to Maisie, but she gently pushes my hand away.
‘Not hungry.’
I toss the banana and drink onto the back seat, glancing at Maisie’s bony wrists protruding from the baggy grey sweatshirt that she never seems to take off these days.
But as Dr Yesufu suggested, I don’t comment on her appetite. In the absence of any better advice, I have to listen to him and try a different tactic for a while at least.
‘I wish Dad would dump Joanne so I don’t have to see her any more.’ Maisie scowls.
I’m trying hard to see both sides, I really am.
I suppose it’s natural that there’s a bit of rivalry between the pair of them. Two little girls with big personalities thrown together. Things are still very new and take some adjusting to.
‘You never know, you and Piper might become closer in time.’ I smile at her, but her scowl doesn’t shift.
It’s hard to know what to say for the best. I can understand Maisie being a bit peeved and feeling proprietorial about her dance classes; she’s been going for a full year now. But she has to understand that her friends being involved with Piper doesn’t mean she has to take a step back.
‘Maybe you two can share friends like you do other stuff. You go to Joanne’s house now and I bet you play with Piper’s stuff while you’re there and watch TV in her bedroom.’
‘No,’ Maisie says firmly. ‘She’s selfish. Joanne tells her to share but she won’t, and Piper said on the first day I went there that I’m not allowed in her bedroom.’
I open my mouth and close it again.
I’m obviously not asking the right questions when Maisie comes back from Joanne’s house. I was under the impression that the two girls got on OK; both Shaun and Joanne have led me to believe that.
I stop at traffic lights and lay my hand on my daughter’s arm.
‘Don’t worry about it, poppet. You can make an effort with your friends and everything will come right again, I’m sure.’
‘That’s just it, though. All my dance friends think she’s brilliant. She bought a bag of these glittery pom-pom hair slides for everyone when she started the classes. Now everyone really likes her.’
Clever. No doubt that’s Joanne’s doing, designed to get Piper in everyone’s good books from the off, and it sounds as if it worked.
‘She’s told everyone she’s going to get the part of Dorothy off me. But I don’t think Miss Diane will let that happen.’
I glance at my daughter, notice her troubled expression. It would be easy to wave her concerns away as nothing, but this stuff is the most important thing in the world to her right now.
She must feel as if she’s battling against Piper’s instant popularity with her dance friends, and now with her own dad, too.
‘Just remember, everyone there likes you too,’ I tell her. ‘You’ve got lots of friends and you’ve been going a long time, so if you feel pushed out maybe it’s just a blip. Let’s invite some of them over to the house like we used to do. You’ve always been popular there and Miss Diane has obviously rewarded your loyalty and hard work.’
Maisie sighs and says nothing. When I look at her, she doesn’t seem at all convinced.
After a few moments, she speaks.
‘There’s something else too.’
‘Oh yeah?’ I say, dreading what might be coming next. ‘What’s that?’
‘I heard Joanne talking to one of the other mums, telling her that they’ll be moving. Once Dad has sold his house.’
When we arrive home, it’s a relief to just get inside and take a few deep breaths.
After Maisie’s revelation, I had to really focus on my driving and the road. I felt disorientated, a bit dizzy even. At one point I thought I’d have to pull over, but then Maisie opened her window and the fresh air brought me to my senses.
When we get inside the house, I walk into the kitchen, tossing my keys on to the counter and sweep a few errant crumbs with one hand into the other.
I throw them into the bin and when I look up, out of the window, a sharp movement near the hedge catches my eye. I narrow my gaze as I try and focus.
I can’t discern an exact shape, but it looks to me like there is someone crouching behind the hedge, watching the house.
I swallow down a knot of panic and rush to the patio doors, unlocking them and flinging them open in one swift movement.
‘Who’s there?’ I call, my voice wavering slightly despite my efforts to sound assertive.
I stand stock still for a few more moments, but the shadowy bulk I could swear I saw there has gone.
I close the doors and lock them. Despite it being daytime, I pull the curtains and lower the kitchen blind.
‘Are you OK, Mum?’ Maisie asks from the doorway.
‘Yes, fine. Come in here, I want to talk to you.’
‘I didn’t mean to make you sad when I told you about the house,’ she says, observant as ever.
‘OK, Maisie. I’m going to ask you a few questions and I want you to think really carefully before answering.’ Her eyes widen. ‘You’re not in trouble, it’s just very important you tell me exactly what you can remember and that’s all. It’s fine to say if you can’t remember. Do you understand?’
She nods and sits next to me when I pat the seat cushion.
‘Where was Joanne when she spoke about Dad selling the house?’
‘She was over by the main doors, talking to Carly’s mum. I’d left my water bottle there and went to fetch it before our barre exercises.’
‘That’s good. Now, this bit is really important. Can you remember exactly what was said?’
She frowns, thinking for a moment.
‘When I walked behind them to get my bottle, Joanne was describing a house.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She said, “The kitchen is massive, and it’s got five bedrooms and a stream running along the bottom of the garden.” Then she said, “We’ve just put an offer in” or something like that.’
I nod.
‘Then Carly’s mum said, “When are you moving?” and that’s when Joanne said, “As soon as Shaun can sell his house.”’
I bite down on my back teeth when I imagine those two privileged women, money coming out of their ears, talking nonchalantly about private business that affects Maisie and me. The fact that some random mum at dancing gets to hear that Shaun is trying to sell the house before I do makes the blood in my veins literally boil. And Joanne talking about it like that at the dance studio, in front of people I’ve known for years…
‘Mum! Stop it!’
Maisie pulls at my hand and suddenly I’m aware of a sharp pain where my thumbnail h
as carved into the skin of my finger, drawing a thin crease of blood to the surface.
‘Sorry.’ I tuck my hand under my thigh. ‘What did you hear after that?’
‘Nothing,’ Maisie says. ‘I had to run back to join the others before the exercises began.’
‘OK. Well, you did the right thing in telling me, poppet.’
‘Have we got to sell the house, Mum? Where will we live?’
It breaks my heart to see the furrows on her brow. These are not worries any ten-year-old should be grappling with.
‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation,’ I say. ‘She was probably talking about someone else.’
‘She definitely said it was Dad and she meant this house. Will we have to move out soon?’
‘I don’t know, Maisie!’ I snap without thinking, and her face falls. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m just tired. I’ll make you a sandwich and then I’m going to have a little lie-down while you watch some television.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ she says, her voice flat. ‘I’m going to my room.’
When she’s left the kitchen, I snatch up my phone and text Shaun.
I need to speak to you TODAY. If you don’t come, I’ll drive over to Joanne’s.
Chapter Fifty-Four
When Shaun arrives at the house, he takes great interest in the hallway, and generally glancing all around as he walks into the kitchen.
It occurs to me he’s calculating what needs to be done in order to get the place fully saleable.
‘Just as you left it,’ I remark, letting him know I’ve noticed.
He smiles bashfully. ‘Of course. I was just thinking what a big place it is. Anyway, what was it you wanted to talk about? It sounded urgent.’
‘I’ll get to that in a minute.’
We walk into the kitchen and I realise I’ve left the curtains and blind drawn.
‘Had a migraine and shut all the light out?’ he quips.
‘No. I thought…’
He stares at me, waiting.
‘I thought I saw someone in the garden earlier.’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Em.’ He sniffs. ‘Some things never change, eh?’
It’s a jibe, a slur. He doesn’t believe a word I say any more, but I force his comment out of my mind. There are more important things at stake here.
I make two coffees and take them over to the seating area.
‘Maisie is upstairs in her room. I can call her down if you like; I didn’t know if you wanted to talk first.’
‘That would be good.’ He nods. ‘I wanted to discuss a few things, but firstly, the house.’
‘What about it?’ I say sharply. ‘Surely we both agree that Maisie needs all the stability she can get right now. First you leave, and now… well, I know you wouldn’t want to sell up. You wouldn’t do that to her.’
‘It’s a big place, Em,’ he sighs. ‘Far too big for the two of you, and then there are the bills associated with a large house: council tax, heating. The list goes on.’
‘So you want to sell because you’re worried about my bills?’
‘Well, I am paying half of them,’ he states tartly.
‘But nobody asked you to leave.’
‘Emma!’ he snaps, and then gathers himself, softening his voice. ‘I don’t want this to be a slanging match. I just need to tell you that things are changing, and this is one of them. I want to sell the house.’
‘Well. It’s nice of you to tell me, but actually, I already knew.’
He blinks at me.
‘Maisie overheard Joanne telling one of the other mums at dancing. She was crowing about your new place having five bedrooms and a big garden with a stream running through it.’
‘Shit.’
‘Shit is right. That’s how it made our daughter feel.’
‘I can understand that. I’ll certainly speak to Maisie about it.’
‘Maybe you should speak to your girlfriend, too. Tell her to keep her mouth shut in public places… if she can resist bragging about her wonderful new life.’
I’d like to ask why he even needs money from the sale of this house. Joanne has enough funds to buy it outright, I’m sure. But I know the answer; she wants to see commitment from him, wants to cut me out of his financial responsibilities completely.
‘Point taken,’ Shaun says quietly. ‘Listen, before I pop up and see Maisie, there are a couple of boxes I want up in the loft. Just photographs I took that I need for my new portfolio. Is it OK if I—’
‘Take what you want,’ I say curtly.
He empties his pockets out on the kitchen worktop and leaves the room. I hear him pad softly upstairs and push the loft trapdoor open, a light rumble as he pulls down the ladder.
I pick up our cups and take them over to the sink.
He’ll want my agreement to sell the house, but I won’t give it. Not today. Why the hell should I make it easy for them?
Yet deep down, I know selling up is best all round. Although Shaun pays half the bills, in reality, I know before long, I’ll struggle on my own. If I could cut my outgoings, and I had a bit of money behind me from the sale of the house, I would perhaps feel less vulnerable financially.
Maisie and I could get one of those new compact eco-houses a few streets away from the embankment. Or even a neat two-bed apartment in the new Trent Basin development.
The idea of a new home feels good. Positive, in a way. Perhaps it’s the fresh start Maisie needs to get back on track and find herself again.
But I’ve no intention telling Shaun my thoughts for a day or two at least.
I load our dirty cups into the dishwasher and walk over to the seats again, pausing to run my fingertip over Shaun’s smooth black leather Hugo Boss wallet that I splashed out on for Christmas last year.
It’s ludicrous how pleased I feel that he’s still using it. It’s like I’ve scored a point over Joanne, somehow.
He’s left his car keys here too. A tiny Perspex box full of coloured mints, his late grandad’s penknife that, when opened out, has every tool you could ever need, and he’s left something else.
Two Yale door keys complete with a little plastic tab. Handwritten on the white label is: Linby House.
The keys to Joanne’s apartment.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Maisie says she feels too ill to go to her dance lesson. She’s been off school all day and Mum kindly came over to the house to look after her.
Later, I leave Maisie in bed with my mum pottering around in the kitchen and drive to the dance studio.
I’m at a loss as to who to speak to for advice. What I need is someone who knows Maisie well. Someone who can give me their opinion about whether my daughter really is ill.
I park a bit further up the road than my usual spot. The last thing I want is for any of the other mums to see me and get chatting. I need to wait until I can catch Miss Diane on her own again, when everyone has left.
Within a few minutes, the students begin to spill out of the doors. There’s no ruddy-faced, happy little girl with dark curls and a winning smile. My car door is not wrenched open with a bubbly account of the lesson before she even takes her seat.
My Maisie is in bed, lying listlessly like a wilting flower. A passing phase or not, I can’t just leave her there, waiting to see if she recovers. As her mother, I have to do something. I have to listen to the alarm bells that ring in my head all day and all night.
Miss Diane emerges from the studio doors and waves a few of the girls off. I groan as a couple of the more gossipy mothers approach her, praying they don’t stand there for long.
My wish is granted. Miss Diane seems to excuse herself and disappears back inside the studio. I wait until the two mothers and their daughters walk away, and then I get out of the car and walk quickly towards the building.
I try the closed external doors and breathe a sigh of relief that she hasn’t locked up yet. I slip inside and walk through to the main hall where the classes take place.
>
Miss Diane is crouched down unplugging equipment from the wall. I’m wearing soft-soled shoes, and she doesn’t hear me approach.
‘Hi, Miss Diane, could I have a quick word?’
She gasps and stands up quickly, her hand flying to her throat.
‘Oh, it’s you again, Emma. I thought it might be Joanne…’ She smiles nervously and I wonder if she’s also living on her nerves because of Joanne Dent. ‘Is everything all right? We missed Maisie tonight.’
Unbidden, my eyes prickle and I nod, blinking the emotion away.
‘Oh no, what’s wrong?’ She slides an arm around my shoulders, and to my shame, I feel hot, salty tears roll down my cheeks and drip from my jawline. ‘Come and sit down.’
I follow her to a couple of wooden chairs against the wall, sit down and take the tissue she offers me.
‘Sorry,’ I snivel. ‘I don’t know what’s come over me. I just…’
‘Take your time. I’m in no rush to get away. I’ll go and lock the main doors so we aren’t disturbed.’ She glides across the sprung wooden floor, light and graceful in her shell-pink ballet slippers. The exact delicate colour of Maisie’s own.
Two minutes later, she’s back and hands me a glass of water.
‘Now. How is Maisie?’
‘She’s… not good. She won’t get out of bed.’
Miss Diane looks taken aback. ‘Is she ill?’
‘The doctor says probably not, but I think she is. She isn’t eating properly, she’s lost all her spirit. It’s as if…’ It’s too awful to say.
‘Go on.’
‘It’s as if she’s lost her love for life and just wants to… be left alone.’ I dab at my runny nose. ‘I came here again because I couldn’t think of anyone else who knows Maisie as well as you. Her class teacher at school has been off sick for weeks and they have a supply teacher in, you see, and Maisie has begged me not to involve the head teacher.’
‘Of course,’ she says softly, sitting down beside me. ‘I’m glad you came to see me again. As it happens, since I’ve been keeping a closer eye on her, I have noticed a change in Maisie’s behaviour.’
