Surely asthma wasn’t catching?
‘You’re having a panic attack,’ the nurse told her, and talked her down, helping her to calm herself until she could breathe easily, and afterwards she had felt rather foolish, as if everyone might think she had been looking for attention.
From then on the anxiety would visit her when her stress levels were high and her resistance low, particularly if she’d not had enough sleep. She’d resisted medication and learned to control it herself, but it was hard. She tried to hide the extent of it from Dom, but that added to her stress levels and he’d found out in the end. Life seemed to become a cycle of asthma and anxiety, with some brief periods of respite in between. Until Willow’s symptoms had eventually settled, thanks to better medication and management.
Yet Laura felt sad. She had wanted a little more time to be normal with her daughter. To have a few extra months that weren’t fraught with worry. The majority of Willow’s childhood had been so high octane and dramatic, and then for the past year it had been coursework and exams and the dread of results.
There would be the holidays, she consoled herself. This wasn’t the end.
She could see by the digital clock on the television that it was gone one. The hotel room was hot and stuffy, but she couldn’t quite be bothered to get out of bed and open the window. She began to sing the soundtrack from The Sound of Music in her mind. At last, by the time she reached ‘My Favourite Things’, she managed to fall into a fitful sleep.
6
Laura woke with a start at six the next morning to see Dom staring up at the ceiling.
‘Hey,’ she whispered.
He turned to face her.
‘I woke up at four and couldn’t get back to sleep,’ he said. ‘Typical, isn’t it? When you really need to, you can’t.’
‘What’s the matter?’ She brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes.
‘Oh … nothing in particular. Just life. Work. Willow. Overtired.’ He smiled at her.
She held out her wrist.
‘I love my bracelet,’ she said.
‘Good.’
‘Want a cup of tea?’
‘No – I think I’ll try and get another hour.’ He burrowed down under the duvet and plumped up his pillow, turning onto his side away from her.
She slid out of bed and went to fill the kettle. She knew she wouldn’t sleep now. She looked over at Dom, wondering what he’d been thinking about, then wondered if Willow was awake yet. Probably not.
She looked out of the window, at the ancient red brick of a bigger, grander hotel than the one they were staying in. Be good to my girl, she told the city.
The three of them went down to the hotel dining room for a full English breakfast: huge plates of bacon and egg and black pudding, with mugs of Yorkshire tea, served by a cheery waitress who couldn’t do enough for them.
‘Take note,’ said Dom. ‘You can’t beat Northern hospitality.’
Laura had mentioned her Airbnb idea, and he’d thought it was a good one. Now wasn’t the time to discuss it, though.
‘Here,’ said Laura, putting a parcel wrapped in silver tissue paper on Willow’s side plate. ‘This is for you. Don’t get too excited. It’s just something silly.’
Willow opened it while eating her toast and marmalade. Inside was the notebook. Willow flipped it open and as she began to read, she realised what it was.
‘Oh, Mum,’ said Willow. ‘That’s so lovely.’
‘What is it?’ asked Dom.
‘Our family recipes. Mum’s copied some of them out for me.’
‘There’s a letter too,’ said Laura. ‘But you might not want to read it until I’ve gone.’
‘I’m going to read it now,’ said Willow, unfolding it.
Laura watched her face as she read.
‘Are you trying to make me cry?’ teased Willow, and wiped away a tear.
Dom picked up the notebook and flicked through it.
‘What a lovely idea,’ he said.
Laura shrugged. ‘She probably won’t have time to use it.’
‘I so will,’ Willow contradicted her. ‘This will make me friends. The way to a student’s heart is through their stomach. Everyone knows that.’
Dom looked at Laura in admiration.
‘Why didn’t I think of something like that?’
‘Cos you’re a bloke, Dad,’ said Willow. ‘Blokes aren’t thoughtful and sentimental.’
‘Yes, they are,’ said Laura, shaking her charm bracelet.
‘Oh yes!’ said Dom, looking proud. ‘Get me, in touch with my feminine side.’
After breakfast, the three of them headed out from the city centre to the university campus, driving past the huge lake with its colony of ducks and through the maze of roads until they found the right accommodation block.
The car park was already buzzing with arrivals. The other fathers looked resigned, lugging suitcases and boxes of books. The other mothers looked as if they were swallowing down their hysteria, just like Laura, and were scrutinising the other students for tattoos and indications of substance abuse in case they were to lead their little darlings astray. The new students all looked fresh-faced and optimistic and reassuringly normal.
Willow’s block was square and modern, and housed a dozen or so students with a communal kitchen. Her room was on the ground floor – Laura had requested this when they filled out the accommodation form in case she ever needed to get to hospital quickly. It was small, equipped with a single bed and a desk and a tiny cubicle with a sink, shower and loo.
‘Well,’ said Laura, trying to see the best in it, like someone faced with an ugly baby in a pram. ‘It’s small, but we can do a makeover. Come on. All hands.’
Laura made up the bed with soft bedlinen sprinkled with pale-blue stars. Dom strung up fairy lights and set up Willow’s computer and docking station. Willow unpacked her books and pictures and put Magic Rabbit in his rightful place on her pillow. She had decided it was OK to bring him. She could always hide him if necessary.
Laura tucked the first-aid cabinet she’d bought from Ikea on the bookshelf and made sure all Willow’s emergency medication was inside. She’d checked for triggers, but everything seemed very clean. There was no dust or mould spores; no crouching cats; and there were plenty of ‘No Smoking’ signs so there’d be no passive smoke drifting into Willow’s bedroom. All her bedding was hypoallergenic.
Her brain was racing, trying to think of every eventuality. She knew she was feeding her anxiety, but she couldn’t help it. She’d done this for years. It was her default setting. She could tell Dom knew she was getting jittery. If she got overanxious, he would step in. He knew the signs as well as she did.
She felt calmer when she saw how delighted Willow was with her room.
‘Thanks, guys. It looks awesome.’
Laura thought how very far it was from her light-filled bedroom at home, with its creamy walls and stripped oak floorboards and the pretty French wrought-iron bedstead. But everyone here was in the same boat. The rooms were all identical.
‘Let’s go and check out the kitchen,’ she suggested.
‘Shouldn’t we head off? Willow can do that,’ said Dom.
‘Course I can,’ said Willow.
‘It won’t take five minutes. I just want to see.’ Laura could sense Willow and Dom exchange glances, but it was important to her, to know exactly what her daughter’s life was going to be like.
The kitchen was huge but a little stark, with strip lighting and grey lino. There were three stainless-steel sinks, five fridges and plain white cupboards for the students to share, as well as a number of bins, which would no doubt soon be filled to overflowing.
Laura looked around the kitchen, telling herself it was fine.
‘Do you want to choose a cupboard?’ she said brightly to Willow, who rolled her eyes with a small smile and indicated the nearest, not bothered which one she had.
Everything looked spartan and municipal at the moment. By the end
of the week it would be in glorious chaos. Laura could imagine everyone sitting round the table and the sinks piled high with cups and plates.
She unpacked the plates and the mugs she’d bought for Willow. There had been no point in spending a lot – they’d soon get broken or find their way to someone’s else’s room – but she’d bought the prettiest she could find: cream with pale-blue and green spots.
Then she took all the things she’d been making over the last few days out of the cool box: Tupperware boxes full of roasted vegetable couscous and Coronation chicken to keep her going. She’d brought some jams too, and some lemon curd and marmalade. A jar of granola made with honey from up the road went into the cupboard. Finally, she pulled out the tin of red velvet cupcakes she’d made for Willow to share as an ice-breaker with the other students and put it on the table.
‘Oh my God, did you make all this stuff?’ another mother asked. ‘You’ve put us all to shame. I just brought Pringles and Jaffa Cakes.’
‘I’m a bit of a feeder,’ Laura grinned ruefully.
By this time there were half a dozen students in the kitchen. There was one particularly sensible-looking girl, in navy-blue track pants and a hoody – sporty and healthy and smiley and a bit like Jaz. Laura wanted to draw her to one side and whisper to her: Willow has asthma. Chronic asthma. She’ll have an inhaler on her and there are spares in her room. Please watch out for her.
But she didn’t. Because that was inappropriate and very possibly a trigger in itself, given the potential embarrassment factor.
She caught Willow dart a pleading ‘get her out of here’ look at her father, and felt hurt.
‘Let’s go, darling,’ said Dom. ‘Let’s hit the road. We can be home in time for supper. And I need to check in on Wellington Buildings. Make sure that pipe hasn’t burst again. I can’t afford another setback.’
‘OK,’ squeaked Laura. There was no room for breath in her lungs alongside the panic. She needed to go now if she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself in front of the other mothers. There was no point in lingering. She darted forward to give Willow a hug.
‘Text me,’ she managed. ‘Maybe FaceTime later this week?’
‘Sure, Mumbelina.’ Willow used the family pet name and gave her sweet, attentive smile. ‘Thanks for everything. Thanks for driving me up. And thanks for the book.’
‘If you want anything, just say and I can post it.’
‘I’m going to be fine. There’s shops. Loads of shops.’
Dom put a big hand on his daughter’s shoulder and stooped down to kiss her on the head. ‘Take care, sweetheart.’
‘Cheers, Dad.’
Willow stood on tiptoe to hook her arms round her dad’s neck and kiss his cheek. Laura couldn’t tell what she was thinking or feeling. Did she feel sad or was she thinking hurry up and go?
She turned and walked away down the corridor before too much emotion overwhelmed her and made her do something embarrassing. She pushed against the bar that opened the glass door of the block and hurried to their car. There was a gnarled lump in her throat and the TCP sting of tears behind her eyelids; a heavy stone in her chest and an uneasy sick feeling in her stomach. She tried the breathing exercises that usually worked when she felt panic or anxiety rolling in: that heavy, claustrophobic mist. She breathed and breathed and blinked away the tears and swallowed down the lump, pulling open the car door. She sat back in the passenger seat, closing her eyes. She prayed Dom would just get in and drive off without saying anything. Which, thank God, he did. He knew her so well, bless him. She wanted to get out of there as quickly as she could.
As they left the campus and joined the road that would take them back to the motorway he put a gentle hand on her leg, patting her. He didn’t need to say a word.
Laura tried her voice. ‘She’s going to have such fun.’
‘Of course she is,’ said Dom. ‘And so are we. It’s time to think about ourselves. When’s the last time we had some fun?’
Laura looked at him, surprised. ‘Well, we can’t. Not while you’re doing Wellington Buildings.’
‘But we should. Otherwise what’s the point? Let’s think about somewhere exciting to go when it’s all done. Morocco? I’ve always fancied Morocco.’
He seemed slightly fevered and overexcited.
‘Have you had too much coffee?’
‘No. I just think it’s time for some changes. It’s been a tough few years. We’ve got no responsibilities now.’
‘I haven’t. You have.’
Dom squeezed her leg again. ‘You’ve been a fantastic mum. But it’s your turn now. Time to find out who you are.’
Laura laughed. ‘Have you been watching Loose Women?’
She put her feet up on the dash. Her anxiety was beginning to subside and she felt warm inside. It was lovely that Dom understood and was being so supportive. She was so lucky. She had a wonderful husband, a beautiful house, two children out in the world doing their thing and a fresh new page in front of her.
‘I’ve got loads of ideas,’ she told him. ‘The Airbnb, for a start. I’m going to get going on that as soon as I can. Edmond reckons we can make a small fortune. A few hundred quid in a weekend.’
Dom whistled.
‘Great idea,’ he nodded. ‘All revenue streams gratefully received. And it’s what you do best. Making people feel at home. Looking after them.’
‘I suppose it is.’
Dom was right, Laura thought, as she twirled the silver bracelet round her wrist. It was what she did best, so she might as well make a go of it. Five minutes later her eyelids closed and she was asleep, dreaming of all the things she might do.
She woke as Dom pulled into the service station at Gloucester.
‘I was hoping to make it home in one go but I need a coffee,’ said Dom.
‘My God, are we here already?’ She peered at the sign. ‘I must have been asleep for hours.’
‘You were snoring.’
‘Oh dear – how unattractive.’
‘It was sweet. Snuffling really.’ He demonstrated a snuffling noise.
Laura giggled.
‘Why don’t I take over the driving from here and you can have a snooze?’
‘Nah. We’re nearly home. I’ll be fine.’
They fell into step, holding hands as the glass doors slid apart to let them through.
‘I need the loo,’ said Laura.
‘I’ll get us coffee.’
‘Tea for me.’
‘Cake?’
‘Date slice.’
She grinned at him over her shoulder as she headed off to the Ladies. She felt warm, and optimistic for the future; the dread she had been feeling had dissipated. She was going to be all right.
Dom joined the straggly queue for hot drinks.
It’s got to stop, he thought as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. As of today, it’s got to stop. ‘Quit while you’re ahead’ had always been his motto in business, so it should be the same in his personal life. You always got out while the going was good and before disaster struck. That was how you survived: it was the reckless and greedy who came crashing down. The cautious and the risk-averse reaped the benefits long-term. It didn’t make for such a good story, but who really wanted stress and drama? The media was always full of rags-to-riches tales of mavericks who’d lost everything only to go on to make a fortune, but they were, Dom knew, the exception rather than the rule.
As he picked up the juiciest-looking date slice for Laura from under the cake dome, he felt filled with resolve. It would only take one meeting (he wasn’t crass enough to do it over the phone – he owed her that much). He wouldn’t need to explain because they both knew it was wrong and they’d been on borrowed time. And then he could carry on the life he should be living, rather than the lie. He smiled to himself at the prospect. It would be so much more relaxing. Maybe not as exciting, but definitely more relaxing.
He bought himself a piece of tiffin to celebrate – though it didn’t lo
ok as nice as the tiffin Laura made – and took their tray over to a long wooden counter with high stools. As he sat down to lay out the cup and saucers, he took out his phone and saw he had a text. It had been sent much earlier that day, but he hadn’t been able to check his messages in the car.
He frowned when he read it.
Never communicate at the weekend. That was an unbroken rule. Her unbroken rule.
He kept one eye on the corridor that led to the Ladies, deleted the text and put the phone to his ear.
Laura went to the loo, came out to wash her hands, then couldn’t help checking her phone to see if Willow had texted yet. Of course she hadn’t. But she couldn’t help wondering about her. What was she doing? Who had she met? How was she going to survive Freshers’ Week? Urban myths about drug-taking, alcohol poisoning and casual sex floated into her mind.
She’ll be fine, she told herself. She took some calming breaths, washed her hands again and put them under the industrial-strength dryer, willing her anxiety to be blown away with it.
She headed out into the food area, looking for Dom among the melee of Sunday travellers, and spotted him sitting on a stool at a high counter, her pot of tea and date slice waiting. She hurried over and sat on the stool opposite him.
‘Thanks for this. I’m really thirsty. That snoring must have dried me out.’
Dom was eating a piece of tiffin. He had his mouth full. He pointed to it.
‘This is nowhere near as good as yours.’
Laura gave it an appraising glance.
‘No. It won’t be. I use Valrhona chocolate. And pistachios. And apricots.’
A girl just along the counter was spooning the froth from her cappuccino and staring at them. She had the pale washed-out pink hair that seemed to be fashionable at the moment, a nose ring and a big army jacket. She was going for the beautiful-but-intimidating look. Brimful of bravado. Young and ready to change the world. Laura pushed down the shadow of Willow that tried to enter her mind.
‘I’m sorry.’ The girl leaned forward. She had a strident tone, and the kind of attitude that would make a university lecturer’s heart sink. ‘I’ve got to tell you, because you look lovely and kind and it’s not fair.’
A Family Recipe Page 6
