regarded her, judging the effects of her behaviour.
‘What is there? Pizza?’
‘Brown bloody rice and bananas, if that’s what you want.’
‘No thanks.’
‘Milly, what’s the matter? You must eat something. I don’t want to force you into anything …’
‘You couldn’t. Don’t bother to try.’
‘… but you’re here, and I’m responsible for you for this time, and it would make it pleasanter for us both if you were co-operative.’ I sound like the mother in some nineteen-fifties radio drama. We haven’t even got a common language.
There was no answer. Milly’s eyes wandered back to the window. Dinah made a last attempt, breathing through the rising waves of her irritation.
‘Come downstairs. Have some breakfast and then we’ll go and buy tofu and mung beans. We can take Ape for a walk by the river. Or drive over to Northampton, there’s a shop there …’
Milly leaned forward on the bed. One knee protruded through a hole in her black knitted leggings. Her chin jutted out as her gaze swerved back to Dinah.
‘What do you want? Do you need some kind of a doll that you can take out for walks and dress up in frocks and tip upside down to say Mama?’
Dinah’s heart knocked in her chest, squeezing the breath against her ribs. ‘Why are you so rude?’
‘Is it rude to say what you think?’
‘Yes. Don’t you know that?’
She turned and left the room, aware that Milly was testing her for something, and that she was failing miserably.
It was another hour before Milly came downstairs. She skirted around Ape and made for the kitchen. She found the bread and cut herself two doorstep slices, then smeared them thickly with raspberry jelly. She wouldn’t talk, although Dinah offered her the most neutral of openings. She turned on the television and sat in front of it, her eyes fixed on the screen as if to let them wander elsewhere would be to betray vulnerability. Dinah couldn’t persuade her to leave the house, and Ape’s demands for exercise were becoming impossible to ignore. In the end Dinah took the dog for a walk and left her.
It was a raw afternoon with a taste of fog in the air. Ape ploughed through the undergrowth beside the river path while Dinah shivered and stared into the grey-white rush of water. She was glad when the moment came to turn back towards Kendrick Street. There were plenty of logs on the back porch. If she lit the fire perhaps Milly might even enjoy something improbable like toasting marshmallows.
As soon as she came back into the house she sensed that Milly’s mood was different.
She was waiting in the kitchen, holding back the knots of her hair with one hand so that her face was completely exposed. It was small, triangular, almost pretty under the disfiguring paint. The silver rings in her nose glinted.
‘You were gone a long time.’
‘Only an hour.’
‘Seemed like longer.’ Milly’s eyes were very bright.
‘Glad you missed me. Would you like some tea?’ There was something different about the kitchen, a detail that Dinah couldn’t quite place.
‘Nah. I thought I’d go out for a bit.’
‘Out?’
‘That’s right. See some friends. You know? Be back later.’
‘Milly, I can’t let you do that. You’re not old enough to go wandering off on your own in the dark. Wait. I’ll drive you, if you’re going to someone’s house, if you’ll tell me who so I can call the parents first …’
Milly grinned. ‘No thanks. Don’t need a chaperone. I can look after myself. Promise.’
‘That’s not the point. I promised Sandra I would look after you.’
Milly was demonstrating deafness. She had her satchel slung over her shoulder, was moving towards the door. Dinah scrambled after her, realising that the child would walk out. She caught hold of her arm and tried to pull her back. At the same time the detail that had nagged at her revealed itself. Matthew kept three bottles on a small wooden tray at the far end of the work surface, one of gin, one of whisky and one of vodka. The vodka bottle was missing.
‘Have you been drinking?’
The shrug inflamed Dinah. Her grip on Milly tightened and the child began to struggle in her grasp. Her arms felt like sticks, but she was surprisingly strong.
‘You can’t keep me here.’
They were wrestling in earnest now, Dinah’s hands clamped around Milly’s wrists. It was absurd to fight with her, as well as misguided, but Dinah’s sense of proportion deserted her in a tide of panic that burst out of some closed reservoir within herself. They lurched backwards, struggling against each other.
With Milly’s weight falling on her the edge of the worktop dug into Dinah’s side, winding her.
She would not be able to hold her much longer. Milly would break free; she would disappear. The knowledge was fearful and the fear came out of somewhere long ago, unacknowledged and more terrifying for it.
Dinah felt that she would choke. She realised that she was crying.
‘That fucking hurts,’ Milly spat at her, enraged. She disengaged one leg, drew it back and kicked Dinah square in the shin with her steel reinforced toecap.
Dinah yelped in pain and at the same time Milly ducked her head and bit hard into the back of Dinah’s hand. Dinah jerked the bitten hand to her mouth and swung out with the other. She slapped Milly satisfyingly across one cheek, and was rewarded by a flash of astonishment and respect in her pale eyes before fury blotted out everything else.
‘You hit me.’
‘Milly, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that …’
Milly was out of her grasp and she darted away while Dinah hesitated. The kitchen door slammed and an instant later the front door swung and banged shut on its troublesome spring. Ape barked at the empty air in Milly’s wake.
Dinah walked slowly across the hallway to the front door. It seemed to vibrate still with the force of the crash. It was dark outside, and Kendrick was deserted. Milly had vanished. I should run after her, Dinah thought. I should catch her and bring her back.
But she only checked the door, making sure that it was on the latch so that Milly could come in again when she was ready. Dinah couldn’t chase after her now, for even if she caught up with her she would not be able to force her to come back. She had been clumsy enough for one day.
In the den, on a low table beside the dented sofa cushions, Dinah found the vodka bottle. The level in it, as far as she could remember, had hardly dropped at all. Bravado, Dinah thought. A child’s bravado. She sat down and rested her head against the cushions. The back of her right hand showed an inflamed
