‘I think it’s great! My friend Olivia’s dad isn’t married either. Her mum left.’ Esme shrugged, ‘Apparently she was overly good friends with the gardener, that’s what Olivia says.’
Mollie snorted a little to herself, ‘Well, I’m sorry for Olivia, that must be really sad for her.’
‘Olivia says I’m really lucky that I never knew my dad, because now I don’t miss him.’
Mollie tilted her head slightly, stroking her daughter’s hair and feeling that pang in her chest, that underlying fear that she wasn’t doing a good enough job, clawing at her once again.
‘Would you rather I didn’t go out on any more dates?’ Mollie looked into her daughter’s light eyes, so unlike her own, ‘I don’t mind. I’m happy without all of that.’
‘I don’t mind, Mum, God, whatever,’ Esme rolled her eyes, ‘but can I go to Olivia’s after school tonight? She was going to teach me a dance routine.’
Mollie frowned, ‘A dance routine?’
Esme shrugged, a slight blush on her cheeks as she took a bite of the toast, ‘Yeah.’
Mollie shrugged, deciding the intended heart-to-heart had been appropriately over the top for her child and agreed, hustling her out of the house and down to school. The days were getting cooler, that smell of autumn leaves as Camden exploded into yellows and oranges. The leaves were scattered on the ground and Esme loved to crunch on them as they walked. Some days, Evie joined Mollie on the walk, and they swung Esme between them, other days it was just Mollie, taking that all important time to chat with her kid.
They stopped at the school gates, and Mollie looked past her child to the other children in the school yard, ‘Are you enjoying school Ez? If you ever want to have your friends over to the studio, we can do something, you know...’
‘Mum! I’ve got to go, okay!’ Esme huffed, ‘Whatever! Come get me from Olivia’s house. Her dad’s gonna text you the address.’
Mollie felt her chest tighten, that she was just meant to let her kid go with these people. She’d seen Olivia, at school, but hadn’t seen this mysterious green-fingered mum, or the jilted dad. But Esme had been quiet and withdrawn those first few weeks at the new school, having left all of her friends behind in Badgeley when they moved over the summer. This was the first friend she’d mentioned, and Mollie couldn’t bear to disappoint her.
‘Okay, I love you.’
Esme rolled her eyes again, briefly kissed her mum’s cheek, and ran off into the school playground. Mollie frowned as she noticed all of the badges and patches were missing from Esme’s backpack. Something wasn’t right. She felt it in the pit of her stomach. Esme was changing.
She thought about it as she walked back to the studio, making lists in her head of all the small things that had changed since the school term had started.
Esme had always been different, in the most beautiful and wonderful way. She was like a time portal. She loved music Mollie had never even introduced to her, and had a strange understanding of how people interacted. She often saw things before adults did. She saw Evie and Killian getting together from the beginning. She recognised Mollie’s relationship with her own mother, Linda, easily, constantly telling her to forgive Grandma and trust that she had the best intentions. Esme was a much better person than she was. And that was her greatest achievement as a mother.
But something didn’t sit right.
Mollie walked straight into the kitchen of the studio and got to work. There was an event she was catering, a small amount of baking for a local couple’s engagement party that weekend. That would be done easily enough. And then onto the prep for tomorrow’s segment on morning TV, thanks to Ilyaria, who lived in Camden Square and worked in television, championing their events and promoting them like no one’s business. Once she’d mentioned her new venture, Mollie Makes, fuelled by passion for healthy eating and a few too many glasses of Prosecco at a launch one night, Ilyaria hadn’t stopped until she had ten kids’ parties and an after-school club interested in what she could offer. She called last week to say they needed someone for their morning news segment. And there Mollie was, with a sudden moment of fame, and she wanted to vomit.
But first, coffee.
Killian wandered in at five past nine, the same as every day, and reached for the coffee pot. It was one of the things she liked about her working day, the fact that Evie’s boyfriend worked in the room in the back of the studio, and was always happy to have a chat and sample some of her first cookies of the day. This was part of the reason she’d been lulled into a false sense of security – Chelsea had found Kit, and Evie had found Killian. There were clearly good men out there. Men who didn’t know when to stop eating her freshly made cookies, and men who wanted to set her up with horrible obnoxious accountants, but good men. There was hope.
‘What’s that look for?’ He poured them each a cup of coffee from the pot, sliding one over to her, ‘Still grouchy about the date?’
‘Evie told you already?’ Mollie huffed. The other downside of her best friend and flatmate having a boyfriend who worked in the building.
Killian shrugged and ran a hand through his dark stubble, crossing his arms, ‘She felt guilty. Like they’d strong-armed you. She feels responsible. But, I was thinking...’
Mollie held up a finger, ‘Killian, I like you. I like that we have coffee every morning and that you’re crazy in love with my best friend. If you are about to suggest a set-up with one of your friends, I will kick your arse from here till Tuesday.’
Killian froze and then nodded, ‘Ah, that scary mama face. No wonder Esme’s an angel child.’
‘Well, that’s more what I’m worried about.’
Killian frowned, and leaned back against the cabinets, tilting his head in question.
‘I think something’s up with Esme. Do you think she seems happy?’
Killian shrugged, ‘She spent all summer at the skate park, playing with the local kids, she’s still her polite, book-obsessed self... sure, I think she’s happy.’
‘But she put her leather jacket away in the cupboard, her backpack hasn’t got any patches any more, and she’s hanging out with a girl who wants to teach her dance routines,’ Mollie frowned, ‘She hates that. It’s like when I gave her a Barbie doll and she turned the hair pink with a highlighter and cut it off.’
Killian shook his head, sipping at his coffee, ‘Molls, she’s gone into Year Six, she’s got one year to either ignore everyone and wait until secondary school, or try to make friends. It’s got to be pretty lonely, being as smart as Ez is. She lives in this awesome world where she has all these people who love her and she lives in an art centre. Her family are constantly doing these fun events, and people like me are being added gradually. She probably hasn’t got the same frame of reference as those other kids. And what you learn to do in that situation is hide the parts that are different, muffle them, just a bit. It’s survival instinct. Esme’s smart, but she’s not changing, she’s just blending in.’
Mollie tugged at her hair and sighed, ‘Yeah, you’re right, I guess. I just... she’s growing up.’
‘You’ve got years of teenage fights and drama ahead, don’t worry about it,’ Killian awkwardly patted her shoulder, ‘Focus on being freaked out about tomorrow’s on-screen debut. Do you know what time they’re coming?’
‘Six-thirty a.m.! I was gonna ask Evie to take Esme to school, if it runs over.’
‘Sure, if not, I’ll take her, I’m finishing a project tonight and then I’m free tomorrow.’
Mollie grinned, ‘I really am glad you stuck around.’
‘Didn’t have much of a choice. That Evie, she kind of gets under your skin.’ Killian drained the coffee, ‘Anyway, I’ve got a day bed to build. And seeing as there’s no cookies or baked goods to keep me from my work...’
He wiggled his eyebrows hopefully and Mollie rolled her eyes, handing him a cookie from the jar, ‘Incorrigible.’
‘That’s what they tell me,’ he laughed as he walked off back to his s
tudio, and Mollie returned to her baking, turning her worrying from Esme’s school life to her own countdown to a national television appearance. She wasn’t sure which one was more upsetting, but one was definitely more immediate. She got out her mixing bowl.
***
‘And then what happened?’ Chelsea placed her hand on her chin, grinning as she sucked on a lollipop. Evie was pretending not to be interested, painting her nails a dark shade of purple, her fluffy socks with the pigs on rather ruining the goth-girl illusion she liked to save for the rest of the school. Ruby was sitting awkwardly, legs in her sleeping bag, tucking her knees up under her chin as she pursed her lips.
‘Chels, you don’t ask a girl for the gory details,’ Ruby raised an eyebrow.
Mollie paused, quite liking the brief moment of being the centre of attention. She paused in brushing out her long blonde hair, and winked at Chelsea, saying nothing. Mollie never got to have any of this, she was the quiet one, the shy one. Boys didn’t talk to her because they thought she was standoffish, or a ‘stuck-up princess’. But Jamie MacAllister didn’t think that.
‘He just walked me to the bus stop after the party,’ Mollie blushed, ‘It wasn’t a big deal.’
Evie snorted, ‘Yeah, it was. You look like you’re about to take flight.’
‘Well, that’s fine for you guys, you’ve all dated people and slept with people and...’
‘Hey Miss Assumptions, who do you think we’ve slept with?’ Chelsea raised an eyebrow.
‘Tommy,’ Mollie pursed her lips and watched as Chelsea’s shoulders lowered and she huffed.
‘Of course, they say anything. Molls, some advice, as nice as they seem, don’t go off alone anywhere with them for longer than ten minutes, because then they can tell all their mates you shagged them. When really, you got a half-hearted kiss, choked on the chewing gum they hadn’t thought to take out, and then let you walk home by yourself. Men are dicks.’
Ruby frowned, wriggling out of her sleeping bag and hopping up next to Mollie on her bed. Linda was out at a party of her own, and the sleepover had been planned weeks in advance. The party at Bridget’s house, then coming back early (because it would clearly be lame) and watching silly movies in their pyjamas. But it hadn’t been lame, someone had scored some beers and WKDs, there were older boys and the music was good. And there had been Jamie, Jamie who she had known since they were kids, seeing him around the playground, and then suddenly he’d transferred to their school this year, looking tanned and smiling with those perfectly white teeth, his floppy brown hair looking just so teen heartthrob.
And he’d seen her. He looked past Chelsea’s confidence, Evie’s thoughtfulness, Ruby’s beauty, and he saw her, standing at the back, as she always did, hands clasped, staring at the walls and wondering how long she had to be here until she could just go home and relax with her friends.
‘It’s Mollie, isn’t it?’ He’d said, grinning as if he was so happy to see her, ‘We went to primary school together, right? You probably don’t remember me.’
But she did, and for once, she was the girl who sat at the bench at the bottom of the garden, nursing a drink and talking to a boy who was interested in everything about her. For once, Mollie was the girl who shone, unfurling into light as someone listened. She felt important, special, cherished. And she had never experienced that feeling since.
***
Mollie was elbow-deep in wholemeal flour when her phone buzzed. A text.
Hi, this is Max, Olivia’s dad. I have your daughter. You can have her back under the following conditions. Haha. Address below.
Mollie blinked. Um, jokes about stealing kids were not a great start when you’d left your kid with a stranger. The phone buzzed again:
Obviously, I haven’t stolen your kid. Sorry. Not smart. Feel free to pick her up at seven. Max.
Mollie snorted to herself, and looked at the clock. Crap. She ran upstairs to get changed into her running gear, as Evie insisted on dragging her out every Thursday, especially tonight when she needed to de-stress before her debut tomorrow morning. Luckily, Olivia and Max only seemed to live a few streets over, and Mollie hurried.
She rang on the doorbell of the extremely impressive townhouse, the bright blue door with the stained glass windows giving her a very good impression of Olivia’s life before the door even opened.
She pulled on the old-fashioned doorbell and counted eight seconds before a man answered the door. His dark hair was slightly curly and he was almost clean shaven, with dark eyes and a warm smile. There were hints of grey in his hair, and the sleeves of his expensive white shirt were rolled up haphazardly. He looked effortlessly rich, and relaxed.
‘You must be Esme’s mum,’ he smiled, standing back from the door, ‘come on in, I’m Max, obviously.’
‘Obviously. Mollie.’ She held out a hand and he looked at her, incredulous, before taking it and shaking smoothly. ‘Hope Esme wasn’t any trouble.’
‘I doubt she’s capable of trouble. All I can tell is they’ve been practising dance routines for hours, and ate dinner before running off again. She’s a very healthy eater, she said that’s your influence.’
‘I’m setting up a healthy eating programme for kids,’ Mollie shrugged, about to explain about the news segment the next day.
Max frowned, ‘And how is it different to anything else that’s already out there? What’s your angle?’
Mollie bit her lip, ‘Um, I guess it’s not, except that I’m adapting dishes to make them healthy, so that kids can still have chocolate brownies, they’re just made with black beans instead.’
‘Ah, okay, so a hippie-dippie “make it with quinoa” approach,’ Max turned his back to her, ‘Liv, Esme’s mum is here.’
‘What is everyone’s problem with quinoa?’ Mollie mumbled to herself, waiting for her daughter to thunder down the stairs and leave this awful place with its cream carpet and the blue Persian cat staring at her from the windowsill.
‘And the problem with quinoa is more about how it’s causing farmers to starve in Bolivia, rather than any issues with taste or texture,’ Max answered smoothly, his lip quirking. Mollie considered the man, who was clearly ten years older than her, and spoke with an authority that suggested he was either a professor or an arsehole.
‘And what do you do?’ she asked in that way people do when they’re looking for a reason to judge you.
‘Finance.’
‘Of course,’ Mollie said simply, then called out, ‘Esme, I’m waiting here sweetheart!’
A small dark-haired head appeared at the top of the bannister, the sort of girl who would have bullied Mollie at school. She had poker straight hair and a perfect headband, wearing a t-shirt that said ‘Glamorous’ across the front. She smiled serenely.
‘Daddy, Esme and I are just tidying up my toys – perhaps Esme’s mummy would like a glass of wine while she’s waiting?’
She disappeared upstairs again to the sound of childish giggles, and Mollie was sure they were suddenly being watched.
Max quirked an eyebrow, ‘The kid’s got a point. Red or white?’
‘Sorry, I’ve arranged to go running with a friend, so I need to get Esme home,’ Mollie said, calling up the stairs, ‘Esme, I’m running with Evie this evening, please get your things together now.’
‘Oh good, you’re actually working out, I thought you might just be one of those mums who wears yoga pants everywhere, even though it’s clear they never actually work out.’
Oh god, thought Mollie, so my business idea’s unoriginal and I look like I don’t work out. Is there one man who doesn’t want to stamp all over me this week?
‘Yes, I actually run.’
The silence stretched out between them as Esme came down the stairs grumbling, letting her backpack fall from each step with a thump.
‘Pick up your bag Ez, and say thank you to Olivia’s father.’
Esme glared at her, ‘I was going to say thank you anyway. Now it looks like I wasn’t going to, and I�
��m rude. Thanks!’
Max intervened, ‘I would never think you were rude Esme, thanks so much for joining us today, it was a pleasure to have you. Come around again any time you like.’
Esme turned to her mother, nose held in the air, as if to say ‘see?’ but turned back to Max with a huge smile, ‘Thank you for having me. Dinner was lovely.’
Max nodded and Olivia waved from the stairs.
‘Lovely to meet you Mollie. Rain check on that glass of wine,’ Max nodded, that assurance the rich have evident on his face.
‘Definitely,’ Mollie smiled as the door closed behind them, ‘on the tenth of never!’
They walked silently for a few moments, Esme walking faster than necessary before Mollie stopped her.
‘Hey, lady, what’s with the attitude?’
Esme whirled round, ‘Why do you have to ruin everything?!’
‘I’m sorry your play date had to end early, you know I’ve got a very important morning tomorrow, I thought you were happy for me!’
‘Not about that!’ Esme shook her head, ‘Why did you have to turn up wearing that? And you’ve got flour on your nose!’
Mollie paused, ‘So I embarrassed you in front of your new friend and her dad. Well I’m sorry about that.’
Esme shot her a fierce look, like she was being dim on purpose, ‘You were supposed to have some wine with Olivia’s dad. And you were supposed to turn up looking all pretty like you always do when you pick me up. And then maybe you and Olivia’s dad would go on a date.’ She crossed her arms and huffed, ‘But you ruined it.’
Mollie smiled at the little girl with glitter on her face, her light eyes darkening as she glared at her mother, arms crossed, pout at the ready.
‘Baby, that’s very sweet of you, to want to set me up...’ Mollie crouched down and swept some hair behind her daughter’s ear, ‘… but Olivia’s mum just left, do you think maybe he might need time to be sad about that?’
Be My Baby Page 2
