by Kerena Swan
Perhaps she should attempt to walk to the corner shop. She’ll need more margarine and she’s getting low on eggs. She’d quite like to have one of those supermarket lorries come around with boxes of food like they do at the house up the road. She fancies looking at pictures and clicking at stuff on one of those iPad thingies. She’ll ask Max about it.
Ivy checks her purse for money and pulls on a thick wool coat. She hasn’t been out for some time and feels quite excited by the prospect. She has no audience now to portray frailty to. She was getting bored with that anyway. Pulling the front door shut behind her, she walks slowly but steadily along the path deep in thought. How can she get near Sophie again?
37
How much?! I study the price below the three-bed semi being displayed in the estate agent’s window. I can’t believe property values have increased to such a level around here. It makes me feel more secure financially now that I know I have some equity in my house and for the first time I’m grateful to Mum for persuading me to use Nana’s money to buy it even though I have a big mortgage. I need some positives in my life. Since the call from Max all colour has seeped from my world. Even the smallest task seems to take a huge amount of effort, as if I’m wading through treacle.
Soon after Max and the social worker called, I left the office on impulse saying I wasn’t well and needed fresh air. No one tried to stop me. Karen looked more surprised than anything and Gwen just followed me with her sympathetic gaze. At least my urgent tasks have decreased slightly now that I haven’t got Ivy to worry about. I just need space to think about what’s happened. I hadn’t realised how much I’d pinned my hopes for the future on Max and I’m angry with myself for being so weak-minded. From now on I’m going to make a better life for myself and my girls and not wait to be rescued by someone else.
I’ve walked away from the direction of Max’s office as I don’t want to bump into him. I pause at a travel agency and look at the cards displaying bargain-price holidays. They are still way beyond my budget and my spirits dip further. I’d love to take my girls abroad where we could swim and sunbathe and make sandcastles. The weather in England is so unpredictable and the only time we had a holiday was a weekend in Bournemouth when it turned grey and drizzly. Mia still insisted on going to the beach in between the spells of rain and we made shapes out of wet sand, squatting in our jackets as it was too damp to sit down.
The next window is a recruitment agency. There are loads of jobs for carers on display. No wonder we’re short-staffed if we’re competing with all these employers. I read through them quickly to check the rates of pay and see our agency is paying less than the others. Hopefully the new wage laws will iron that out. I see an advert for a Care Organiser and notice the wage is a bit more than mine but it’s not enough to warrant changing jobs for. I like my job most of the time. I don’t want to find myself in a place I’m not happy at for a few more pounds a week.
‘Sophie! I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?’
I turn around to find Anna, my closest friend from school, standing behind me. Her wild, curly hair blows across her face and she drags it back impatiently from her wide smile. She looks lovely, as always, in a neat skirt and jacket. I beam at her and we give each other a hug. She holds me at arm’s length and peers intently at me and I cringe inwardly at the obvious scrutiny. I hope she can’t see any unhappiness etched on my face.
‘Why haven’t you returned my calls or answered my texts lately?’
‘I’m really sorry, Anna. It wasn’t intentional. It’s just that I’m usually in the middle of something and I promise myself I’ll call later then I just don’t get five minutes free.’ This sounds like a lame excuse even to my own ears. There have been brief moments later in the evening when I could have called her back, but I couldn’t always face her barrage of questions or hear about her latest exciting holiday. Anna doesn’t have kids and has the double bonus of freedom and disposable income. I try not to feel envious of her because I have two beautiful daughters but it’s hard to listen to her raving about Niagara Falls, the Caribbean, or the latest ski resort when it’s raining outside. We used to be close but now don’t have much in common.
‘Let’s go and grab some lunch. My treat,’ Anna says. I’m tempted to say no as I don’t want to play the role of the penniless friend. She’s been at my house and seen the colour drain out of my face when a bill arrived.
‘Come on, I insist,’ she says, seeing my indecision.
She grabs my elbow and pulls me forcefully towards the nearby café. I laugh at her impetuousness. Anna always seizes the moment which is why I enjoy her company so much and I am hungry. I left my sandwiches behind in the office when I rushed out. Anna chooses a table near the window and I inhale the delicious smell of toasted cheese and ham. Five minutes later I’m nibbling at a long string of cheese stretching out of my hot Panini like spaghetti and chatting avidly. I forget how much fun she is to be with and I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch lately. She’s exactly what I need to lift my spirits today.
‘How’s the job going? she asks.
‘It’s good. I enjoy it. The pay isn’t great, but it never is in this line of work and my boss can be a bit fierce, but the elderly folk are lovely.’ An image of Ivy’s cheerful face floats into my mind and I feel sad that I won’t see her again.
‘Have you thought about working with children? You were training to be a paediatric nurse at one point.’
‘Until Tilly came along.’
‘Didn’t you get a qualification?’
‘Not in nursing, no. I’d like to go back and finish the course sometime or at least get some form of qualification. I’ve done my NVQ Level three but that’s not enough to progress up the career ladder. Have you got an exciting vacancy on your books working with children then?’ Anna works for a recruitment agency and earns a fortune in commission.
‘Not on our books, no. But a friend of mine works at an agency for children with disabilities and one of their team leaders is moving to Ireland in a month or two. They don’t usually advertise for staff as all their recruitment seems to be word-of-mouth personal recommendations. They’re fantastic to work for and pay more than other places. Do you want me to find out a bit more for you?’
‘Can I think about it? I don’t have much experience in that field.’
‘Yes, you do! Your first placement was in a children’s hospice, remember.’
I do remember. I really struggled to cope with the emotional trauma of caring for children with life-limiting conditions. Seeing their happy, smiley faces and knowing they didn’t have long for this world was heart-breaking but not as hard as watching the suffering the parents went through. No one wants to outlive their children.
‘I’m not sure. I really like working with the elderly but can you e-mail me some information and I’ll take a look?’
‘I’ll send you a link to their website. How are the girls?’
‘They’re great. Hard work at times, but fun to be with. They keep me young.’ I tell Anna about some of the funny things Mia says and the imaginary games we play, of evenings cuddled on the sofa with Tilly, and she looks at me with a strange expression.
‘You’re so lucky, Sophie. Your life sounds amazing.’
‘Really?’ I’ve only ever thought of my life as ordinary before. Anna actually sounds envious. ‘Tell me about your latest holiday,’ I say to redress the balance.
Anna brightens and launches into a description of a safari where the giraffes poke their heads in the dining room window and share your lunch. It all sounds incredible to me and I can’t decide if I’d enjoy that or not, although Mia definitely would.
‘So, is there a new man in your life yet?’ Anna asks suddenly.
I’m not prepared for this and flounder with my answer. Why has Max suddenly rejected me? I can feel the disappointment showing on my face and can tell from Anna’s expression that she’s noticed. As I sit and dab at sugar granules with the tip of my finger I find myself te
lling Anna all about Max – his perfect manners, warm smile and caring, thoughtful ways. Then the sudden shock when he cancelled our agency.
‘It’s maddening, isn’t it, when your knight in shining armour turns out to be a prat in tin foil,’ Anna says, and I burst out laughing.
I’m definitely going to answer Anna’s messages in future. She’s such a tonic. We’re getting our coats on to leave when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Looking at the screen I see it’s Max and my heart skips a beat. Anna sees my reaction.
‘Something important?’ she asks.
‘Only Mr Bacofoil,’ I say and press the ‘end call’ button.
38
Max’s heart plummets when Sophie cuts his call. Oh God. He quickly types a text instead.
Sorry if I’ve caused you trouble at work. Can we meet so that I can explain?
He hits the send button and sighs. He knows he’s done the right thing keeping Sophie away from his nan. He wishes he could keep everyone away from her but that’s not possible. Maybe if he gets her back into the day centre, amongst a lot of people, she’ll settle down and behave like a normal human being again.
Max enters his office and is immediately struck by the grim atmosphere. Joyce is looking at him carefully, no smile or warm greeting like he usually receives. Damn. He forgot to get her cakes. It can’t just be that, though. He looks around the room and sees his boss, Michael Cuthbert, sitting behind his desk and he doesn’t look happy.
‘Where have you been, Max?’ he asks.
Quick, think of something. It’ll probably make things worse if he tries to invent a cover story so he might as well embellish the truth.
‘I’m really sorry. I had a call from my nan to say she wasn’t well. I’ll make the time up by working later this evening.’ This seems to be the best approach as Michael looks somewhat mollified.
‘Joyce and I have just been saying that you don’t seem to be quite yourself lately. Is everything all right?’
‘Yes, yes. Everything’s fine.’ Bugger. They’re picking up on his stress levels. He’ll need to be more careful.
‘We’ve had Mr Poulton on the phone. He says you didn’t show up on Saturday for their second viewing. Care to explain?’
‘That’s not strictly true,’ Max says. ‘I did call him to say I couldn’t make it. I had a terrible headache. I can reschedule for later today if that helps.’
‘Right. Give him a call now and see if he’s free.’
Michael has lost the frown and is looking a bit more relaxed. Peacock House could earn him a lot of commission so Max can understand his annoyance. The property has been on the market for some time and deals have fallen through twice so he’s very keen to sell it. The owner is threatening to go to another estate agent although if he wasn’t demanding such a high price it would have sold by now.
Max knows he’s not been giving work his full attention lately and it clearly shows. He promises himself he’ll do better in future. He’s taken Michael’s goodwill too far and needs to focus on his reputation of being the best negotiator. Maybe if Sophie won’t see him he’ll be more committed to his work. He’s determined not to hang around outside her house anymore. Not seeing her will be his punishment for bringing her near to his nan. When he’d suggested her agency, he’d thought Sophie would just plan the support and he’d liaise with her. He hadn’t expected her to provide the care herself.
Max calls Mr Poulton and arranges to meet him and his wife that afternoon at Peacock House. He’ll have to ensure they don’t go too near the caravan. He has no choice now. He’ll have to move the body tonight or tomorrow. Why did he think he could leave the girl there in the first place? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He sits at his desk mulling over what he needs to do then brings up Safari on his phone. He can’t afford to have this Internet search on his computer browser history.
Max skips his lunch break to demonstrate his commitment to the job and drives over to meet the prospective buyers. Mr and Mrs Poulton have completely changed their opinion of Peacock House. They’ve visited a few other places locally and have realised the potential of the old place. As they walk round, they see features they were blind to previously and admire the ceiling roses, light streaming through long windows and garden views from every direction. It’s ironic how Mrs Poulton doesn’t have a funny feeling about the place now. This time there’s a valid reason for her to have the creeps but she wanders happily from room to room deciding what furniture can go where and what colour schemes she’d like.
‘They do a stunning range of Georgian paints in Farrow and Ball, Geoffrey,’ she says to her bemused husband.
He’s as surprised at her change of heart as Max is.
‘We can split this middle room into two en suite bathrooms to create two guest suites. Oh, imagine the house parties we can have.’
Her rapturous expression isn’t mirrored by her husband, but he smiles at her, clearly satisfied that he’s made her happy.
‘We’ll make an offer,’ says Mr Poulton and Max’s heart sinks.
Damn. He won’t be getting any sleep tonight now. Max phones the owner and within five minutes a price has been agreed. The Poultons are clearly not short of funds. At least Michael will be pleased.
‘I’d like to take a quick look around the garden before we go,’ Mr Poulton says, heading for the back door. Max suppresses a knot of anxiety, plasters on a smile and finds the key.
‘Needs a fair bit of work,’ Mr Poulton remarks. ‘We’ll have to get a gardener in to sort it and get that ugly caravan removed, unless the current owner can do it? It’s a bloody eyesore. In fact, I think they should remove it. I don’t see why I should have to worry about it.’
‘I’ll get it sorted for you.’
Max’s mind races as he works out a plan for tonight. Time isn’t on his side and if he waits too much longer the body will be quite disgusting and difficult to move. As they walk back up the garden, Max is pleased to see the trails of different footprints being left in the grass and soil. At least he has a legitimate reason for being here. Ah, now that gives him another idea.
On his way back to the office he parks a couple of streets away and walks down the alley he used the other day as a short-cut. He wrinkles his nose at the unpleasant smell of urine overlaid with chip fat from kitchen extractors. He takes carrier bags out of his pocket that he brought for the task and, after a quick look round to make sure no one is in sight, he swiftly picks up a few beer cans and dog ends using one bag as a glove then goes back to his car. He takes a wet-wipe from the glove box and fastidiously wipes his hands even though he hasn’t touched anything. Just being in that alley makes him feel grubby.
39
I can’t believe how much better I feel. Meeting Anna brightened my day and we’ve promised each other we’ll go out one evening to see a film and have a drink. She says it’s about time I did something for me and I think she’s right. My whole life revolves around the kids, work, or household chores. The only break I get is when I visit my parents. I’m going to sweet talk Tilly to babysit for me when I get back.
Of course, I’m kidding myself here. The real reason I feel giddy with happiness is because Max called and then left that text. He cares enough to want to explain. Perhaps it isn’t over, after all. I feel bad about hanging up on him but there’s no way I could have spoken to him in front of Anna after everything I’d said. I’m going to walk around for a bit and think about what to say then find somewhere quiet and call him. I’ve decided to go back to work later and say I feel better. I don’t want Karen to think I’m the sort of person who runs away from problems and confrontations. I’ll tell her I took painkillers and my headache’s gone.
I reach a small park and go through the tall iron gates to find a bench in a shaft of tepid sunshine away from the growl of traffic. I can still hear it in the distance but now it’s mingled with birdsong and children’s voices laughing and squealing in the playground. I brush leaves off the wooden seat, pausing to admire the jewel-li
ke colours, then sit down and dial Max’s number. It rings several times and I start to fear he doesn’t want to speak to me. When he answers, he sounds out of breath.
‘Is this a good time to call?’ I ask.
‘Anytime is a good time for you to call,’ he replies.
His voice is like caramel sauce; warm and sweet, and he sounds genuinely pleased to hear from me. My heart lifts and I can’t help smiling.
‘I’m so sorry about ending the care for my nan,’ he continues. ‘I hope I didn’t get you into too much trouble. Can I meet up with you to explain? I feel awkward saying stuff over the phone.’
‘Of course. I’d love to see you and hear your excuses,’ I laugh. I don’t care about Karen being annoyed now. I’m so thrilled that I’m going to see Max again. ‘When would you like to meet?’
‘I can’t make it today, more’s the pity,’ he says. ‘I need to work late. Are you free late tomorrow afternoon?’
‘I’m planning on taking Mia to the river to feed the ducks and maybe hire a rowing boat. You’re welcome to join us, if you like that sort of thing?’
‘I can think of nothing I’d like to do more,’ he says, and I can tell he’s smiling as he speaks.
We arrange a provisional time and place – we need to check we can take time off work – then reluctantly end the call. I feel like a silly teenager and don’t want to hang up first. I remember years ago talking to Harry saying, ‘No, you hang up,’ and he replied, ‘No you hang up’ and the call went on for ages. I laughed when I overheard Tilly saying it to her boyfriend the other week.
