‘If they have a little girl baby, I don’t want them to call it Naomi.’ She flicked the page of her reading book back and forth.
Rosie gave a small laugh. ‘That won’t happen, darling. You will be the only Naomi.’
‘But you said Daddy chose my name and he might choose it again.’ She looked close to tears.
Leaning forward, she enveloped her daughter in a hug. ‘He did choose it, and it’s a beautiful name, but that’s not really how it works.’ She smoothed Naomi’s long, silky hair down her back. ‘It would be very confusing, wouldn’t it? If we’d called you both Naomi?’ She laughed.
‘Or Leona, you could have called us both that!’ her youngest, piped up, standing again, ready to resume her spinning.
There was a knock on the front door and the girls leapt up and sprinted over to it.
‘Daddy!’
‘Daddy, hello!’
Rosie watched Phil’s smile spread as he reached down to hug them both.
‘Hi, Rosie.’ He looked at her over the girls’ heads as they tried to scramble up his front. She lifted her chin in acknowledgement.
‘Mum was wondering about Christmas...’ he muttered. Rosie swallowed. It was only six weeks away. ‘She wanted to make a few plans, I think. I said you’d talk to her.’ He looked away, shifty.
She hoped he felt as guilty as he looked. The one time of year they had all always looked forward to would now never be the same again. Just one of the ways that his choice had sent ripples into their lives. ‘What are your plans?’ she asked.
‘Just going to go with the flow and fit around what you and the girls want to do. I mean, we’re all ten minutes away from each other, it’s not like we can’t all get to spend time with everyone.’
She stared at him, taken aback by his relaxed response, wondering if he really did see it as simply a question of logistics. ‘I’ll go and see Mo.’
‘She’d like that.’ He smiled and stood upright, shaking off the girls in the process. ‘Right, come on you two, I think Truffle is waiting for you.’
‘Has he got bigger?’ Naomi asked.
‘A little bit, I think.’
‘Bye, honeys! Be good!’ Rosie smiled. ‘And don’t forget to brush your hair!’ she called after them as they raced towards their dad’s shiny car.
*
Rosie slept fitfully, disturbed by bad dreams and invasive thoughts, which always seemed loudest in the hours of darkness. She replayed the way Gerri had smirked at her responses and flitted from room to room, like a game-show hostess showing a distraught loser what they might have won.
It took two cups of coffee at breakfast to shake off the worst of it. She decided to go and see Mo and get the Christmas plans sorted out.
At Highthorne, she just managed to squeeze her car into a small space along the far side of the vans. She knocked and entered and found Keith eating bacon and eggs at the breakfast table.
‘Come on in, Rosie, love. Mo won’t be a minute. She’s just popped a few things up to, erm... To...’
She watched him struggle, unsure how to say ‘Mortehoe’ or ‘Phil’s’ without actually using the words.
‘Tell you what...’ He’d obviously decided to go for a diversion tactic. ‘You stick the kettle on.’
Rosie nodded and did just that. ‘Work busy?’ She decided to fill the room with small talk, just like she always had.
‘No, not really. But it’s not such a problem earning less, now it’s just Ross and erm...’ Again he stopped suddenly. He placed his cutlery onto the plate, seemingly having lost his appetite. ‘I’m sorry, love. Truth is, I’m wary of putting my foot in it. And I don’t like being in that position, not one bit.’
‘Is Phil not working with you?’ She turned to look at her father-in-law, a sweet, hard-working, family man who was incapable of deceit.
‘No. He’s err... He’s doing something different now.’ His cheeks flamed.
‘Like what?’ Rosie wrinkled her nose, trying to think what job Phil, who had left school at sixteen, done a stint in the army and then worked for his dad, might now be doing. And then it struck her. ‘Is he working for Gerri?’
Keith looked at the table and nodded. ‘I think he might be, yes. I mean, yes. Yes, he is.’
‘Doing what?’ Again, she was struggling. She knew that Gerri had made her money working in computers and she had no idea how Phil would fit into that world. He couldn’t work his phone properly, let alone a computer.
‘Oh, you know, driving and collecting things, and I’m not too sure what else. But I guess he’ll be happier being inside in the warm and dry and not stuck out on a building site in all weathers. Plus it’s probably regular money.’
‘But it’s Tipcott and Sons! And he’s the son! He’s always worked with you. I can’t imagine him doing anything different.’ She stared at him as if she were the only one shocked by the news.
Keith cleared his throat. ‘I know. But I guess we’re all having to get used to the changes.’ He looked close to tears.
‘Sorry, Keith, I can tell I’ve upset you, and I didn’t mean to. I wouldn’t want to upset you for the world.’
‘You haven’t, love. It’s difficult. All I want is what you want, for my kids to be happy, and sometimes they make choices you find hard or you disagree with, but if they’re happy, and that’s the goal after all, how can you stop them, and would you want to?’
She thought about Naomi and Leona, happy to be with their dad, swimming in that incredible pool and playing with Truffle. ‘I get it.’ She nodded.
‘I’m back, love!’ Mo called as the front door slammed. She continued to shout from the hallway. ‘Gerri was as pleased as punch with the little matinee jacket I’d knitted! And the girls were there, which was just lovely, chasing after that little dog. He’s a poppet, he is. I’ve told her we don’t know about numbers yet, but Gerri’s getting caterers in apparently and has already ordered three big turkeys for Christmas, reckon we could feed an—’
Mo stopped talking as soon as she walked into the kitchen. Rosie stared at her and their eyes locked. Both women were mortified, each wishing they were elsewhere or at the very least could rewind the last few minutes.
‘Rosie! Hello, love.’ She shrugged her arms from her coat, which she laid on the back of the chair in the corner. ‘I’ve just seen the girls.’
‘Yes, I heard.’ Rosie’s voice was a squeak. She looked at the cluttered surfaces of the kitchen and felt a new level of embarrassment. This wasn’t her family, it was Phil’s, and she had no place being there, not any more.
‘I can’t stay, actually.’ She picked up her keys. ‘I just came to say hi and erm, that’s it really.’ She smiled and nodded, making her way towards the kitchen door.
‘Oh, don’t go. Stay and have a cup of tea. Please, Rosie.’
‘Actually, I can’t. I’ve promised to go into work, so I’d better get going. I’ll see you both soon!’ she added with false brightness.
Eager to get away, she practically jogged to her car, which Mo hadn’t seen, tucked away behind the vans. Not that this was such a bad thing, not really, she told herself through her tears. At least she had an accurate idea of how things were. She pictured Mo knitting of an evening, pictured the little bundle that would fill the white, lacy wool, and as she did so, her sobs intensified.
15
The conversation with Doug was still ringing in her ears. Visitor bookings were down and he was reluctantly cutting her hours. ‘Truth is, Rosie, I should have done this weeks ago. I’ve been putting it off, hoping the situation might change, but it hasn’t. And I’m sorry. You’re not the only one. Mel’s been cut right back too.’
She took little consolation from this as she walked down the hill towards the town centre. ‘What are you going to do, Rosie girl?’ she whispered as she made her way to the school.
‘Mum!’ Naomi called out to her across the playground, running towards the gate with her hair flying and her coat slipping down her back. ‘Mum! Mrs
Mortimer says I need to choose my books for next term, but I think I might be at my new school then. I told her, but she wouldn’t listen to me!’
Rosie shook her head. ‘What are you talking about, Naomi Jo? You aren’t going to a new school.’ She laughed, trying to get the joke. She rolled her eyes at the gaggle of mums and dads standing within earshot.
‘Yes!’ Naomi stamped her little foot in frustration. ‘The one near Gerri’s house with the straw hats!’
‘Love, I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.’
One or two of the mums halted their own conversations but continued staring ahead, trying to glean any fresh titbits of gossip without looking too obvious.
‘Gerri’s got the brochure and the lady said we can go after Christmas and they do dancing and French!’ Naomi’s eyes were wide with the possibilities.
‘Where’s Leo?’ Rosie ignored her and stared instead at the throng of children coming out of the school. Her eyes scanned the crowd for her youngest. She wanted to get home quickly. Her pulse raced and her legs felt quite detached from her body.
Mel came alongside her.
‘Hey, you.’
Mel smiled, awkwardly. ‘Blimey, I’m always late. Don’t know where the day goes. Time just vanishes.’ She rubbed her palms together, briskly, as if fire-starting.
Rosie couldn’t speak to her, knowing that if she did, she just might shout and swear in her urge to know what was going on with Mel’s new mate up at Mortehoe, and she would never do that, not in front of the kids or in front of school. Instead, she smiled briefly and tutted in acknowledgement of the fact that the days did indeed disappear; not only the days, but also the weeks, months and years of her life. Everything was being erased, faster than she could handle.
The second the girls had been given a snack and were settled on the sofa, she called Phil.
‘Everything okay?’ He answered immediately; a call from her was a rarity nowadays.
‘I need you to come over now. Right now!’
‘What’s happened? Are the girls all right?’
‘They’re fine, but I need you to come right now, Phil. Or I’ll come there and we all know that’s not a good idea.’
‘Be there in fifteen.’
Rosie stood in front of the television and smiled at her children. ‘Right, Dad’s on his way—’
‘Yay!’
‘Yes!’
‘But here’s the thing. We need to have a secret chat about what Father Christmas might be bringing you this year, and we need to do it in peace in the kitchen. So you can see your dad, but only when we’re done. Can I trust you to let us have a few minutes chatting with the door shut, without being disturbed?’
‘Yes, Mummy.’ Leona smiled. ‘I want some flashing trainers.’
‘Right, they are definitely going on your Santa list.’ She winked at her little girl.
‘I want a monster truck.’
‘You’re seven, Naomi. And you can’t drive. How would that work?’
‘Dunno.’ She shrugged, clearly not having given much thought to her request.
Rosie laughed as she backed out of the room and closed the door.
She paced the hall back and forth until he arrived. When he did, she wasted no time on greetings but ushered him into the kitchen, quickly closing the door behind them.
Phil leant on the work surface. He looked clean and well kempt, like a man who drove a flash car for a living and not one who worked on a building site in all weathers. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked agitatedly.
‘Couple of things. Firstly, Doug’s cut my hours, so I’ll need to ask you to help out a bit more with finances for the kids. We don’t need much, but I don’t want them going without and things are tight as it is.’ She hated having to ask, resented the position he’d put her in.
‘Of course. I’ll sort something out.’
She nodded in response and swallowed; her mouth had gone dry. ‘Secondly...’ She licked her bottom lip. ‘Naomi told her teacher today that she might be going to a new school. She said she’d seen a brochure of girls in hats, or something. What’s that all about, Phil?’ She leant against the sink and folded her arms across her chest to stop them shaking. She silently prayed that he would just laugh, stare at her quizzically and wonder too where on earth their daughter had got such a notion. But he didn’t.
‘Oh.’ He took a deep breath, looked skywards and rubbed the designer stubble on his chin.
With every second that passed, Rosie felt the fear swell in the pit of her stomach.
‘Okay...’ He began again. ‘Gerri and I are going to be spending more time in the London house.’
‘Is it in Kent?’ she asked.
He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. His lips curved briefly into the beginnings of a smile, as if she were stupid. ‘No, it’s in Kensington.’
‘Right.’ She must have misheard.
‘And she mentioned to the girls that there’s a very good prep school a short stroll away. It’s...’ He shook his head as if to convey the wonder of the place while trying to select the most appropriate superlative. ‘Amazing! A big old house with a walled garden, and the lessons are something else – ballet, languages, music, science, you name it! All in tiny classes of up to ten kids. Literally, just ten. And Gerri said that she’d be more than happy to pay.’
Rosie stared at him. At first she thought he might be joking, but his enthusiasm for the syllabus soon convinced her otherwise. A small laugh escaped her mouth. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’ She tittered again, as much through nerves as anything else.
‘No. The London house is incredible. Every bedroom has its own bathroom and there’s a huge kitchen and a den and you can walk to everything – restaurants, cinema, the Tube, the supermarket.’
She looked at the man that she was having difficulty recognising, a man who now went to restaurants and said ‘the Tube’ instead of ‘the Underground’ like he used to. ‘Well, that must make you happy. I know you were getting quite fretful over not living near a supermarket not so long ago.’
He ignored her. ‘The point is that the school is only a short stroll away as well.’
‘No, Phil.’ She cut him short. ‘The point is that this school is not a short stroll away. It’s in London and my children live with me in Woolacombe, so it’s a pointless conversation.’ She hoped that would be the end of it, hoped he didn’t detect the naked fear in her eyes.
‘We are having a baby, Rosie.’
‘I had noticed.’ Mo’s matinee-jacket conversation leapt into her mind.
‘And we think it’s important that the girls are involved. We don’t want them to feel left out or rejected in any way.’
Again she laughed.
Phil continued. ‘We think it might be an idea for them to stay with us in London during term time and attend Glencote. They have so much time off, literally six months, so it would be a neat split, and the education they’d get is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.’
She stared at him. She could hear the words he was saying, but it was as if he was speaking a foreign language. They made no sense. Rosie cocked her head to one side. ‘Are you mad?’
‘What?’
‘Do you actually think I’d contemplate for one second letting the girls go and live away from me for a week, let alone half the year?’ Her anger intensified. ‘Have you actually lost the plot?’
‘I think it’s a good idea. I’m their dad and I want to see them more than the odd weekend.’
‘Well, you should have thought about that!’
He sighed, raised his palms and patted the air as if there was an invisible table in front of him. ‘I’ve taken legal advice and we’d have joint custody, which would mean dividing their time equally. It makes sense to give them this opportunity.’
‘Legal advice...’ she whispered. She could barely afford a cup of coffee in a café any more, let alone legal advice. Her legs began to shake.
He looked at her as though she was be
ing unreasonable. ‘I think you need to get over the idea that you can and should punish me because things didn’t work out the way you wanted them to. It’s selfish. You need to start thinking about what’s in the best interests of the girls.’
That’s me: selfish...
His words sounded professional, rehearsed.
She held her nerve. ‘I only ever think about what is best for them! How dare you! They are the first and last things I consider with every decision I make. And if you think you can bully me, take them away...’ Her voice cracked. ‘...you can’t. Because I’m their mum and I won’t let you. Do you understand me?’
Phil pulled his keys from his pocket, clearly preparing to leave in the dramatic manner that was now his preference. ‘It’s not up to you, Rosie. It’s the law.’ And he was gone.
Rosie sank down into a kitchen chair as the strength left her legs.
‘What’s for tea, Mum?’ Leona asked from the doorway, twirling her long hair around her fingers.
Just the sight of Leo was enough to cause Rosie’s tears to pool. The idea of her little girl being away from her was unthinkable.
*
After dropping the girls at school the next day, Rosie made her way up to Mo and Keith’s. It was time to try and make good her last awkward visit and she was also hoping to find an ally. She desperately needed to talk to someone.
Mo was in the yard. Resplendent in wellington boots and Keith’s old navy-blue overalls, she was scrubbing chicken poo off the coop frame with a stiff broom. ‘I get all the glamorous jobs!’ she called as she waved at Rosie. Then she strode over, broom in hand, to hug her daughter-in-law.
‘So I see.’ Rosie smiled, relieved at the sincerity of the welcome. A small part of her wondered if Gerri would receive a similarly warm greeting and secretly hoped that she wouldn’t.
‘I’m glad you came over.’ Mo released her and took a small step backwards. ‘I wanted to say—’
‘It’s okay, Mo, I understand.’ She didn’t want to hear the many variants of apology or explanation as to why and how Mo was torn between Phil’s old and new life.
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