sash so that I could hear her. But she couldn’t manage it and that image of her tearful face as she tried to call me back stayed with me until the downers I’d pinched from Mum’s room began to take the edge off everything.
The phone rang: Alice’s number. I took a swallow from the water beside my bed, but my voice must still have sounded croaky because Tom said, ‘You all right, Mum?’
‘I’m fine. I thought you were out all day today.’
‘I will be in an hour. Just wanted to speak to you before I went.’
I held the phone to my lips for a moment unable to speak. ‘Well, it’s lovely to hear your voice.’
‘I’m sorry about yesterday, Mum. Alice said you might have been upset. I thought I told her about the table tennis and everything, but I must have forgot.’
‘Don’t worry. I can’t expect you to rearrange your life to suit me. Now off you go and win that tournament and I’ll be over to see you tomorrow or Tuesday – OK?’
Alice came on then to ask about last night’s call. ‘It was nothing,’ I said. ‘Just a cold call, but it was so late I got worried.’
‘Do you want to come over for lunch?’
‘If you don’t mind, I won’t. I’m really tired. It was a bit of a day yesterday.’
She had to go then because Tom was there, asking if she knew where he’d put his table tennis bat and did he have any clean shorts. It was just as well because I couldn’t face talking about Matt’s visit until I’d thought about it myself.
I switched on the laptop, almost expecting an email from Emily, but my inbox stayed empty. I had her number in the notebook Alice had left for me, so I picked up the phone to call her, but somehow I couldn’t do it and phoned Lorna instead. There was no reply, but I left a message to tell her I wasn’t working on Friday and could come to her then.
After that I stood eating some toast and staring from the window at the rain, the grey clouds, and the empty sea. I knew I should clean the place and do some washing for next week, but instead I watched TV and tried to read.
Finally, I forced myself to put a few things in the washing machine and push the Hoover round the flat. At least it seemed to give me an appetite, but looking in the freezer I knew I couldn’t face more microwaved food. It was five o’clock and too late, on a Sunday, to go to a supermarket.
There was a convenience store not far away, but when I got outside the sun had come out and I found myself heading past the shop, following the smell of fish and chips to the corner of the High Street. When I saw the queue I stopped, ready to turn back to the flat and another frozen ready meal, but I took a breath and forced myself to stand behind the man on the end.
As the queue moved forward, and nobody paid me any attention, I felt myself begin to relax. And, when I asked for a pickled onion from the huge jar on the counter, I was even able to laugh with a woman behind me when she said, rather me than her, she couldn’t stand the things.
As I was pushing my way out I felt a tug on my arm. ‘Hi, babe. How’s it going?’
‘Oh hello, Nicola. Fine, yes, I’m fine.’
The slim, dark-haired man was obviously with her and I took a step back, although he didn’t look like the aggressive character I’d imagined buzzing on my door bell the other night.
Nicola’s hand remained on my arm and at the same time I felt something clutch my knee. The little girl, Molly, was standing, clinging to her mother’s leg and using mine for extra support. Her sticky smile said she wasn’t going to let go without a struggle.
‘She likes you, Clare. You’ll not get away now.’ Nicola turned to the man. ‘Kieran, this is Clare who I was telling you about.’
He smiled and held out his hand. ‘Hello, Clare, nice to meet you. I’m your upstairs neighbour.’ So it wasn’t the ex. Kieran’s hand was warm and dry and I tried to return his smile.
Molly was moving restlessly, giving high-pitched little screams, each one greeted by heavy sighs from the man serving the chips.
‘Clare, you wouldn’t be a darling and take her outside for a minute would you?’ Without waiting for my answer, Nicola peeled the little hand from her own leg and turned the child towards me. ‘Go on, darlin’, go with Clare.’
By now Molly had her hands raised to me, and I had no option but to push my packet of food under my arm and haul her up. She was warm and smelled of sweets, and when she put her arms around my neck and rested her little head on my shoulder something inside me began to ache.
They’d parked the pushchair outside, and Molly clambered from my arms and into it, grabbing a bottle from the seat as she did so and sucking away, her eyes closed with satisfaction. I stood watching her.
Kieran took charge of the pushchair and led the way, stowing their food in a bag hanging from the back and Nicola threaded her arm through mine. ‘This is nice. We can all eat at mine. Kieran’s bought us a bottle, but I’ve got another couple in the fridge.’
‘I’m sorry. That would be lovely, but I can’t, I’ve got an urgent phone call to make.’ It was a lame excuse, but I couldn’t face the thought of socialising, especially with someone as pushy as Nicola. And had I imagined it, or had Kieran’s eyes lingered on me just a fraction too long? I knew it was unlikely anyone would recognise me from newspaper pictures of five years ago, but I made sure to lower my head and let my hair fall across my face as we said goodbye.
Inside, the phone was flashing with a message:
Hi, Clare, it’s me, Emily. I was hoping I’d catch you. Matt says you look great, but he couldn’t get a definite date for a visit out of you. Please, please try to come soon. Once the baby arrives I expect it will be hell here for a bit, so get up here before and we can have time to chat without interruptions. Sorry… rambling… ring me.
It was so lovely to hear her voice that I played the message three times, picking at the fish and chips straight from the bag. When the phone rang I grabbed it, but there was only silence – another cold call. This time I was glad of the interruption because it stopped me dithering. I called Emily’s number. She burst straight into talk. ‘Oh, Clare, it’s wonderful to hear your voice again.’
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