I made a decision on the way home from my morning with Ellie. I have nothing to fear from the life growing inside me. I am nothing like my mother; I am going to be a good mum. I am going to make sure my child never goes to school in the same uniform for two weeks in a row, or is so hungry that they wait outside the back doors of the kitchen until the breakfast club leftovers are put out. I’ve come to the conclusion that actually my childhood taught me exactly how to be a mother, by showing me all the things that are really important. Not the latest gadgets or the best TVs, but being tucked in at night and kissed before you fall asleep. Or warm baths filled with bubbles and cheese spread on crackers when you get in from school. A mum who forces you to do your homework before you play on your Xbox and punishes you if you are rude or unkind because she cares about how you turn out when you’re older. And I can provide those things, I’m sure of it. When you’ve grown up without love, it’s almost as though it fills up inside you; nowhere to direct it, but it’s still there, waiting to give to someone. That’s why I was so obsessed with helping the boy, and why I’ve got so attached to Ellie. I love Dan, but it’s not enough. I need to give my love to a child. I am going to have Dan’s child.
I’m going to tell him tonight. When I realised what was missing from my life, I decided that sooner was much better than later – before I talked myself out of it, or fear overtook me again. I went four miles out of my way to the supermarket to pick up all Dan’s favourite things for dinner, and a pregnancy test. If I’m going to do this, I don’t want him to know that I kept it from him, even for a minute. I’m going to tell him at dinner that my period is late and we will do the test together.
58
Imogen
The food is in the oven and I’m upstairs applying the finishing touches to my make-up. My face is red and blotchy from nerves and I’ve opened and closed the drawer with the pregnancy test in four or five times at least during the day. If it’s possible, I’m more nervous this time than I was the first time I did one.
‘This looks amazing,’ Dan comments as he sits down at the dinner table. ‘And so do you.’ He frowns. ‘Wait, have I forgotten our anniversary?’
I smile. ‘If you’d forgotten our anniversary for the second year in a row, you would be wearing that dinner, not eating it.’
‘Then what? You haven’t got a promotion already? Or is it bad news? Is this buttering me up to tell me you’ve been fired?’
I laugh. ‘I’ll pretend I’m not insulted by the insinuation that I’d only cook you a nice meal and put lip gloss on because I’ve been fired.’
I pour him a glass of wine and top up my orange juice, wondering if the fact that I’m not drinking when there’s a bottle open will be enough of a clue for him. After so long agonising over the decision to keep the baby and tell Dan, I didn’t expect to feel this giddy with nerves. I was so sure earlier, but sitting here ready to pee on a stick, I feel my old apprehension resurface. Once I say the words out loud, there will be no taking them back.
‘So, Mike phoned me today.’ Dan’s voice breaks into my thoughts.
‘Mike?’
‘From the newspaper. About the column?’
I nod through a bite of teriyaki chicken. ‘Mmm, I remember.’ I swallow. ‘What did he say?’
‘That he pitched the column to the team and . . .’ When Dan smiles, his eyes are sparkling. ‘I’ve got myself a job.’
‘Dan, that’s wonderful! I know you said we don’t need the money, but it’s great for you to be able to get out of the house for a bit.’
Dan chuckles. ‘Well, it’s a newspaper column, so I’ll be submitting it from my trusty home office. But it means I have a few more contacts and it’s something different, so that’s great.’
‘It is, really great.’ And I have some more great news. Just say it, Imogen . . .
From the cupboard under the stairs the phone begins to ring. I groan and start to get to my feet. Dan holds up a hand.
‘Let me. Probably cold callers. I’ll tell them to fuck off – you’ll engage them in polite conversation.’
He appears back at the table. ‘It’s for you. I think it’s the girl.’
I freeze. There is only one girl Dan could be referring to. And the last time Ellie called the house, Hannah Gilbert ended up dead. Don’t be ridiculous, I tell myself. She’s fine now. All that stuff is in the past.
‘Hello?’
‘Imogen? I’m sorry . . .’ Ellie’s voice is breaking and I can hear her holding in the sobs.
‘What are you sorry for, honey? What’s happened? What have you done?’
‘Done?’ Ellie sounds confused. ‘Nothing. I meant I’m sorry for calling your house. I got the number from the phone book . . .’
‘So what is it, sweetheart?’ I mentally kick myself for assuming that Ellie is calling because she’s done something wrong. Way to show you trust the girl.
‘It’s Mary. We had a fight.’
‘What about?’ Is Mary okay? Is she still alive?
‘Naomi added me on Snapchat and Mary said I was stupid for wanting to be her friend. She said Naomi only wants to get close to me so she can do something mean and awful. But that’s not true, is it? Isn’t Mary being horrid? She’s jealous and she doesn’t want me to have any friends. I want to come and live with you.’
My heart sinks. This is my worst fear; I knew I was letting Ellie get too close and I always worried that one day I would have to face this subject. And how do I tell her that Mary is probably right? That Naomi Harper is a troublemaker and girls like her rarely do anything to be kind to the strange new kid. I can see why Mary is warning Ellie to be guarded. She is just trying to look out for her in the only way a fifteen-year-old knows how – a little heavy-handed and ham-fisted, but her heart is in the right place.
‘Ellie, hon, you know that isn’t possible. The people in charge won’t let it happen. People can’t just go around adopting children because we like them; there is a whole system that has to be followed. And that’s beside the point. You can’t run away from a family every time you have a fight. Families fight all the time. You need to sort things out with Mary. She loves you.’
‘No she doesn’t.’ Ellie’s voice is sullen and sulky.
‘You know that’s not true,’ I cajole.’ She cares for you very much and has been a wonderful sister to you. And sisters fight a lot.’
‘Do you have a sister?’
‘No.’ I think of all the times I wished I had a sibling, a comrade who understood what life was like for me when I was small. Someone else to bear the brunt of my mother’s depression and her painful indifference towards me. Someone to talk to. ‘But I always wanted one. And sometimes I’d make believe me and my imaginary sister had had a fight just so we could go on a make-friends outing.’
‘What’s one of those?’
‘You know.’ I smile. ‘A secret adventure, just the two of you. That’s what sisters are for, sharing adventures. And being best friends. Soooo, I think you should go and make friends with Mary. I’m sure she’s sorry about what she said.’
I hope that is the case. Mary seems clever enough to realise that she might have gone about things in the wrong way, and hopefully now they have both calmed down, nothing bad will happen to her.
You need to stop thinking like that, Imogen Reid. You’re as bad as Hannah Gilbert.
‘Okay. But she’s wrong about Naomi. She wants to be my friend, I know she does.’
‘I’m sure that’s true, sweetheart.’
Oh God, I hope it’s true.
59
Ellie
‘I got this for you.’ Ellie holds out the T-shirt shyly, braces herself for the sniggers from the small group of girls. Naomi takes it, stares at it blankly for a second, looks confused.
This is it, Ellie thinks. She’s going to pretend she’s never heard of Limitless. She’s going to make me look a fool in front of her friends.
‘You got this for me?’ Naomi says, quite stupidly. That’s what
Ellie said – why does she look so confused? ‘But I . . . I’ve been . . .’ Her mouth opens and closes like a fish. ‘Thanks, Ellie, that’s really nice of you.’
Ellie beams. She knew she was right about Naomi, and she knew Mary was wrong.
‘It’s signed,’ she offers, pointing at the T-shirt. She knows she should just take the win and walk away, but she wants to bask in this moment a little longer. The warmth of Naomi’s smile is like a thousand suns.
‘Wow, thanks! You’re really cool, you know that?’
Ellie feels like her face might crack from the width of her smile. She spent hours last night practising the signature of each band member, tracing the ones she’d found on the Internet in pencil, then going over them in pen before finally attempting them on the T-shirt. They didn’t look great but she figured signatures would look different on shirts to paper anyway. That’s what she and Mary argued about – her foster sister caught her practising the signatures and asked her why she was doing it. When Ellie explained that she’d stupidly told Naomi Harper she knew someone in the band and that she was forging the autographs to give the shirt to her, Mary overreacted ridiculously, telling her that she shouldn’t be giving gifts to someone who had treated her so badly, how she was always going to be a doormat if she didn’t stand up for herself and how Naomi would never change and not to trust her. Ellie was upset and furious all at once. How dare Mary be so cruel? She had no idea what it was like to spend every day lonely and outcast. Mary had plenty of friends, so who was she to tell Ellie not to make an effort?
‘It’s nothing.’ She shrugs now, afraid to be too eager, afraid to play it too cool. ‘I just don’t know many other people who like them, so I thought you might like it.’
‘I love it.’ Naomi motions at a spare seat at the table. ‘Do you want to sit with us?’
Ellie wants to sit with them more than anything; she wants to fit in and laugh and giggle and just have real friends again. But she is scared. This has gone perfectly, exactly as she played it out in her mind last night, over and over, imagining the best possible scenario – and sometimes the worst; she couldn’t help it – and she’s petrified that the longer she stays here, the greater the chance that she will say something stupid, and all will be lost. So instead, she plasters on a look of deep regret and shakes her head. ‘Sorry,’ she says, putting on her coolest voice. ‘I’ve got lunchtime detention with old Fathead. He thinks it was me who let those frogs out in the biology room.’
‘And was it?’ Naomi asks, a faintly impressed look on her face. Ellie shrugs.
‘I’m not admitting anything.’ It wasn’t her.
Naomi grins. ‘Well thanks for the shirt. Maybe you can sit with us when you’re finished being a rebel and all that.’
Ellie grins back. She has to turn away now or she might cry.
60
Imogen
‘I really don’t know what to say.’ Florence beams. ‘The difference in Ellie since you came to work with us has been phenomenal. And the extra work you’ve been doing with the children since losing Hannah . . .’ Her words tail off.
‘It’s been a difficult time for everyone who knew her,’ I say gently. ‘But I’m glad I’ve been here to try to help. Is there any word on when Evan . . .?’
Florence shakes her head. ‘I’m not sure he ever will return, if I’m honest. People in this town have long memories and strong opinions. The students, the parents . . . let’s just say I’ve already had more than one complaint about his continued employment at the school.’
I frown. ‘What exactly are you expected to fire him for?’
Florence sighs and shakes her head. ‘I don’t suppose they particularly care about the whys and wherefores. They see an injustice and expect it to be fixed. The fact that Hannah was meeting Evan behind her husband’s back won’t be forgotten in a hurry. And she’s not here to blame, so I’m afraid poor Evan will bear the brunt of that legacy for as long as he stays here. Which I doubt will be much longer,’ she confides, her eyebrows raised.
‘Are he and his wife still together?’
‘I have no idea. He hasn’t been in touch since he told us he was taking some time off – his doctor signed him off and I told him to take as long as he needed. It’s barely been a month; I don’t expect him back any time soon – like I said, if he returns at all.’
‘Florence . . .’ I don’t know if I should ask about Evan’s possible involvement in Hannah’s death – I still barely know Florence Maxwell, and the last thing I want after her singing my praises just moments ago is to lose her trust and look like a gossip, but I’ve been looking for a way to talk to her properly ever since Hannah’s death, and I might not get another chance. Florence seems to sense what I’m going to ask and nods to the sofas in the corner of the office.
‘Come on,’ she says, motioning for me to join her. ‘If we’re going to get serious, we should at least get comfy first. Coffee?’
‘Tea, please.’ The request is automatic and I have to make an effort not to touch my stomach. After chickening out of telling Dan the other night, I can’t afford for anyone to guess before I find the opportunity again. I want it to be perfect. I want to make up for keeping it from him for so long.
I take a seat on the sofa and Florence brings over my mug of tea.
‘I like this,’ I remark, touching a finger to a small statue of a Buddha sitting on the coffee table between us. ‘I don’t remember seeing it before.’
‘It was over there.’ She gestures at the shelves to the left of the office door. ‘I got it down the other day to look at it. Hannah gave it to me.’ She looks as though she is struggling not to break down.
‘I’m so sorry about what happened,’ I murmur. ‘I can see how close the pair of you were.’
‘It’s a small town. We worked together, we socialised together. I gave her the job here and we became good friends. Although not good enough for her to tell me . . .’
‘To tell you about Evan?’
Florence looks past me, her eyes focusing on a point on the wall. A classic coping strategy in emotive situations. Does she blame herself? Does she suspect Evan Hawker?
‘I never had a clue. And yet afterwards I found out just how brazen they’d been. Did you know they left messages for one another in a tree on the school grounds?’
‘I had heard,’ I admit.
‘Don’t you think that sounds unusually risky? Schools are full of the most inquisitive minds you can come across – teenage ones. To leave notes in such a blatant place, it’s like they wanted to be found out.’
‘Part of what makes an affair so much more exciting than a relationship that everyone knows about is the fear of getting caught. People take incredible risks. I’m sure Hannah and Evan justified it by saying to themselves that the hollow was too high up for people to see, or that no one would have any way of knowing who the notes were between even if they were found. It sounds much more like something a teenager would do anyway – it could easily be passed off as one of the students.’
‘And yet someone did find them, didn’t they?’ Florence asks softly. ‘Because Hannah was lured to that building. Apparently Evan told the police that the flat was their regular meeting place but he’d never left a message for her to meet him that night. The only reason she would have been there was if someone had left her a note purporting to be from him.’
‘Unless she was there to meet someone else?’
Florence looks horrified. ‘No way. Hannah and Evan – well, I can just about believe it. Now that I look back, there was always a certain degree of flirting between them, although I still find it hard to believe that someone as socially awkward as Evan Hawker could lure one woman into bed, let alone two at the same time. No, Hannah might have convinced herself that she was in love with Evan to justify cheating on her husband, but there is no way she would have betrayed him with multiple partners.’
If she says so. Hannah managed to fool her friends, her family and her husband; who’s to s
ay she wasn’t harbouring an addiction to infidelity? Although if she was seeing someone else, surely someone would have said something by now. Anyone she was involved with would be a suspect.
‘Well if she hadn’t arranged to meet someone else there, and they were convinced no one had rumbled their message system, then there was only one person who could have known that Hannah was going to be at the flat that night.’
‘You mean Evan, don’t you?’
‘Who else is there, Florence? I know you want to think the best of your colleague, your friend, but—’
‘Sam could have found out. Or Veronica.’
‘Evan’s wife? Do you think either of them is capable of murder?’
‘No,’ Florence says. ‘But then I don’t think Evan is either.’
‘Is there any way it could simply have been an accident? Could she have slipped? Fallen down those stairs?’
‘That’s how the police are treating it,’ Florence replies. ‘As an accident. But no one can explain why she was there in the first place. What the hell was she doing in those flats that night?’
I shrug. ‘We might have to live with the fact that no one but Hannah will ever know.’
‘Oh I don’t believe that for a second,’ Florence says. ‘Someone knows.’ She lets out a huge artificial sigh, stands up and places her coffee cup on the table. ‘Anyway, I’m sorry to have burdened you with all that. I didn’t ask you here to talk about what happened to Hannah. I wanted to tell you that I’m going to request that you become our school advocate – if that’s okay with you, that is?’
I frown. ‘School advocate?’
‘Gosh, sorry, I forgot you were new to all of this.’ She smacks the side of her head in a mock ‘silly me’ gesture that doesn’t suit her. ‘We tend to use Place2Be quite regularly. The school doesn’t have the budget for an in-house counsellor, but it’s important to keep things consistent for the children, and I’d like to put in a request to your supervisor that when we use the service in the future, you are our first port of call. It’s quite normal.’
The Foster Child Page 18
