Moira’s mood had blackened over several months; she had lost a worrying amount of weight, hiding her body beneath voluminous jumpers; and her eyes, ringed with permanent dark circles, seemed to be sinking inside her. She abandoned her expensive London salon shampoo and scraped her lifeless hair back into a severe ponytail. Her interest in everything waned: even the weekly arrival of her copy of The Stage, which had been a highlight of her week for as long as Jim could remember. Instead of being eagerly pored over, the trade papers lay untouched in a pile by the front door, greying with dust. Jim saw all of this with gnawing concern, but said nothing. In fact, neither of them said anything: to the point where Jim was tempted to provoke arguments simply to break the silence that hung like a shroud between them.
But then, quite unexpectedly, an old RADA friend of Moira’s who had since become an agent, called with a job offer. A production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof would tour local secondary schools – and the part of Maggie was hers if she wanted it. To Jim’s relief, Moira appeared to rally, and the mood in the seaside townhouse lifted. He helped her learn lines, while the girls played contentedly around them. Her appearance improved and her smile made a welcome return. And Jim, seeing a glimpse of the girl he loved, believed the storm had passed.
Three weeks after Elsie’s second birthday, Moira asked Jim to take the girls to Brighton beach to give her time to focus. The start of the tour was less than a fortnight away and nerves were getting the better of her.
‘Two hours, Jim. That’s all I need to sort this.’
So Jim gathered their children and set off for an afternoon of seaside fun. Walking along the promenade, the early summer sun warming his head and the laughter of his daughters warming his heart, he allowed himself to relax. Contentment that had eluded him for so many months now flooded his being and he felt alive again. It was like stepping out of a cold, dark building into brilliant sunlight – and it felt good.
He bought ice creams from a kiosk on Brighton Pier, and they strolled together along its length, watching as green waves moved far below through the gaps in the boardwalk. It was a perfect afternoon, with seagulls wheeling lazily overhead and the tang of sea salt in the air – and life felt good again.
‘Daddy?’ Elsie’s face was one-third human and two-thirds raspberry ripple as she gazed up at Jim.
‘Yes poppet?’
‘Are we going on holiday?’
‘No, honey. But then we don’t need to, do we? It’s like being on holiday right here.’
‘So are we going on holiday when we get home, then?’
Jim suppressed a grin as he looked at his youngest’s seriousness. ‘No, darling.’
‘But we must be going on holiday, Daddy!’
‘Why?’
‘Because Mummy got the big suitcase out.’
‘That’s right,’ Guin agreed. ‘I saw her put it in the downstairs loo when you were making breakfast. Perhaps it’s a surprise for when we get back.’
At that moment it was as if the world froze on its axis. Jim’s ice cream cone dropped to the boards of the pier as he scooped Elsie into his arms and grabbed Guin’s hand. ‘Girls, we have to go.’
‘But we only just got here,’ Daisy protested, following her father as he walked quickly towards the pier exit. Saturday strollers milled aimlessly across their path, causing Jim to swerve around them, but once his feet hit the tarmac of the promenade he broke into a run, dragging Guin alongside him with Daisy struggling to keep up. Terrified, Elsie burst into tears, her pitiful wails loud as a siren in Jim’s ears as he ran.
‘Daddy! Slow down! Where are we going?’ Guin shouted.
‘We’re just … I have to go back … I forgot something …’ he panted, a terrifying image of what he dreaded most hanging stubbornly before his eyes.
‘I don’t want to go home!’ Elsie sobbed.
‘It’s all going to be fine,’ he lied, his heart plummeting as he rounded the corner of their street and saw the waiting taxi.
Reaching the gate, he stopped, lowering Elsie into the arms of her eldest sister. ‘Girls, just wait here, OK? I won’t be a minute.’
Staring at him, Guin took Daisy’s hand and Jim walked into the house.
‘What’s going on?’
Startled, Moira froze in the hallway, the packed suitcase in her hand and folded coat over her arm answering the question before she spoke.
‘I’m – I have to do this. I’m sorry.’
‘No. No, you don’t have to do anything until we’ve talked, Moira. Where are you going? How long are you going for?’
Guilt dragged her shoulders towards the tiled hallway floor. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Is that all you can say?’
‘That’s all there is to say.’
‘Don’t do this …’
‘I don’t have a choice!’ she yelled. ‘This place smothers me, Jim! I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything! I don’t know who I am anymore …’
‘You’re my wife. And their mother …’ Jim pointed through the open doorway towards the three small, forlorn figures at the end of the garden path, ‘or had you forgotten that?’
‘None of it matters, don’t you see? This isn’t who I am, Jim! It’s not what I was destined for.’
‘But they need you—,’ he stepped forward, placing his hand on her birdlike wrist, ‘—I need you …’
Her eyes met his and the coldness of them made him draw back.
‘But I don’t need any of you.’
She brushed past him and walked out of the house.
As Jim’s universe began to implode, a taxi door slammed and the shock of three young screams shattered the calm of the quiet suburban street …
*
‘I am Princess Poppy and I have a magic bird called Cassandra who can talk,’ Elsie grinned proudly at Daisy, who beamed back, ‘… and a puppy called Spot.’
Jim shrugged as Daisy’s face fell. ‘Sounds like a good compromise to me, darling.’ He sat back in his armchair, pride blazing within him as he watched his daughters performing their latest masterpiece for their beloved grandmother.
How far we’ve all come.
He saw Daisy, strong, confident, her character already suggesting the beautiful young woman she would one day be; Guin, independent and full of energy, refusing to compromise and proud to discover her own way through life; and little Elsie, remarkably resilient at such a young age and developing
