When I got to the last line of the letter, Tara referred to herself only once to tell me she had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Never one to dramatize her problems, she said it like it was nothing: ‘Oh, and I now have a positive diagnosis for MS. At least I know now what’s been causing my insomnia.’
I folded up the letter and slid it back into the envelope, and then I sat, watching tiny rainbow spheres dancing on the wall, created by the sunlight filtering through the beautiful crystal vase that Andrew had given me as a gift before he died.
It was easy to get caught up in your own problems, focusing on what was lacking rather than counting your blessings. Reading the last line of Tara’s letter put things into sharp perspective. Life had lambasted her yet again, but was she complaining? No.
Thanks to Tara, I felt a sharp resolve. It was time I got my act together and sorted out my life.
At that very moment, in the kitchen, I heard my laptop ping with an incoming email.
Unbelievably, it was from Gregory’s Property Services, inviting me to interview at 3 p.m. on Monday afternoon.
I swallowed hard, trying to relieve the dryness in my mouth and throat. Although my stomach was fluttering at the thought of my plans coming together, Evie started her new school on Monday. I’d wanted to take her and pick her up on her first day at least.
My heart rate instantly doubled. At least it felt that way.
Desperate to share my news, I picked up my phone and fired a text off to Mum.
‘Got interview on Mon for the job I told you about! Be over in 20 mins to pick up Evie x’
It was brilliant and completely unexpected; they must have been really impressed with my application to get back within the hour.
But then I suppose it was easy enough to appear competent on paper. What if I flunked the interview? What if they thought I was too experienced, or too old for the role of assistant?
I glanced at my phone but Mum hadn’t yet replied to my message.
Despite feeling relieved I’d actually managed to get a shot at securing a job, the whole of my upper body felt tight and tense, every muscle as taut as an overstrung cello.
A few weeks ago, I’d downloaded a relaxation app on my phone that gave breathing exercises and even played mindful music while you did them. I opened it up and sat for a few minutes, trying to keep focused on the narrator’s voice. The entire time, the little brown bottle called to me from the bathroom cabinet but I forced myself to ignore it.
When I’d completed the first stage of the relaxation, I felt even more stressed than when I’d started.
I grabbed my keys and left the house before the pull to go upstairs grew too strong.
I didn’t trust myself anywhere near those tablets.
* * *
‘I think you’re rushing into things with this new job.’ Mum jumped straight in, as soon as I walked into her kitchen. My heart sagged in my chest; I didn’t feel up to an argument. ‘Your priority should be to get the house comfortable and properly organised and to get Evie settled into school.’
‘I need extra cash to get the house looking right,’ I tried to reason with her. ‘And it’s only part-time hours, I’ll still be able to take Evie to school every morning.’
‘I don’t want to go to a crèche, Mummy,’ Evie whined, wrapping her little arms around my neck. ‘Nanny said I shouldn’t have to.’
‘What have you been telling her?’ I quickly bit down on my tongue but the unspoken words burned in my mouth like acid.
‘I haven’t been telling her anything,’ Mum replied calmly. ‘I just said that Mummy might have to go to work and if so—’
‘You should have let me tell her in my own time.’ I tried to stop, but in the end I just had to spit the words out. ‘I am her mother.’
‘Oh yes, we know that, don’t we?’ Mum said shortly. ‘We know that you’re her mother.’
I heard the subtext as clearly as if she’d shouted the words at me. You’re her ineffective, unreliable mother who can’t function without my help.
It was yet another reason I had to get my life back on track.
I bit down my retort and looked away from her challenging stare. I couldn’t afford for Mum to retreat into one of her silent protests. I’d known them to last for days before.
And as much as it stuck in my craw, I needed her.
15
Three Years Earlier
Toni
In the early hours of Sunday morning, I woke up with a jolt.
I thought I’d heard something outside but now I wasn’t sure. It’s hard to tell exactly what you heard when you snap awake in an instant. After holding my breath for several seconds and staring into the thinning darkness as my eyes adjusted, I heard nothing more.
That didn’t stop my heart from pumping and my hands from sweating.
My bedroom overlooked the street. I slipped out of bed and padded over to the window. The streetlights illuminated the line of new mews-style houses across the street that mirrored ours. They stood identically uniform and cramped, bathing in the pools of sodium orange light, like a real-life toy town.
There was nobody around. It was 3 a.m. Blinds were down, curtains were closed. There was no movement at all and I felt like I was the only person who couldn’t sleep. I came to the conclusion that I must have dreamt the noise.
My legs felt restless, in need of a stretch.
I crept out onto the landing and looked in on Evie. She slept peacefully, the whisper of her breath reaching me at the door. I stood for a moment just gazing into space, the strangeness of the new house still prickling at me.
Back in my room, I sat down on the edge of my bed and looked around. I could feel the springs jabbing at the backs of my thighs through the cheap mattress. All my meagre worldly goods were pathetically on display. Black bin bags full of clothes that now hung too loose on me lined the wall at the bottom of the bed. My shoes were piled up in the corner, a couple of coats and a hat draped on top, so that the whole thing resembled Guy Fawkes on a bonfire. Another corner housed a heap of mismatched, greying underwear.
I’d made a start but there was still so much to do. Getting the house organised felt like the craggy shadow of a mountain looming over me.
I climbed back into bed and tried in vain to sleep, but hours later I was still tossing and turning.
Aching.
Hurting.
Since Andrew died, my entire skin felt raw. I had been turned inside out like an old, discarded sock, no longer of use to anyone.
There were times it felt as if I was just killing time until my husband came back. At the old house, I would often pretend he was just away working and would be walking through the door in a couple of days.
The tablets helped me do that. They took the pain, encased it in a thick wad of cotton wool and packed it down, deep inside, where it stopped being a problem for a short time. The painful reality would be held at arm’s length for another long day.
I stood up and headed for the bathroom. It was no use trying to fight it.
Tonight, I was going to need a little help.
16
Three Years Earlier
Evie
She had tried to wake her mummy again and again but she just wouldn’t get up, even though it was way past waking-up time. Evie could tell this by the way the sun was shining in through Mummy’s thin, floral curtains.
In the end, Evie went downstairs on her own.
When they lived in their last house, Mummy had had a job and got dressed early each morning. Her eyes had been brighter then and hardly ever half-closed-sleepy in the daytime.
That had all changed when Daddy went away to be with the angels.
Mummy didn’t have a job anymore and she never used her sparkly eyeshadow now or sprayed on the perfume Evie liked, the one that smelled like a mixture of bubble gum and flowers.
As soon as she got downstairs, Evie got scared that the wasps might be back. She was too afraid to go into the sitting room without Mummy doing her daily wasp check, so she went into the kitchen instead.