I drove up to the large roundabout at the top of Cinderhill Road and joined the queue of cars. There was a steady stream of slow-moving traffic pouring from the M1 into the city centre and I had to wait nearly a full minute before I could drive straight across and onto the Broxtowe Estate.
I passed a large hotel on my left as I crawled around the roundabout. Giant posters announced a sprawling wedding fair that was taking place later in the month and a Take That tribute band that would be performing on the weekend closest to Halloween.
Too late, I realised I was in the wrong lane and tried to manoeuvre the car into the nearside position. The vehicle behind emitted a continuous beep and I glanced in the mirror and raised my hand in apology, just in time to see the driver’s face morph into a mask of pure hatred while he mouthed insults at me.
I had to fight a sudden urge to slam on the brakes, forcing him to smash into the back of me, just to inconvenience him. I didn’t know where these random maverick thoughts came from. Since Andrew’s death, they seemed to just drop into my head like they belonged to someone else.
When I looked down at my hands I saw I was gripping the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles had turned white.
5
Three Years Earlier
Toni
‘They didn’t have ANY of the new Lego sets in there, Mummy,’ Evie complained as I led her from the crèche and out to the car.
Her blonde curls bounced and shone in the weak rays of the September afternoon sun and her button nose wrinkled, making her look cute, rather than annoyed. The birthmark on her neck seemed illuminated, like a small strawberry. ‘AND they tried to make me drink milk. They said it was good for your bones. Is it good for your bones, Mummy?’
Evie enjoyed milk on cereal but couldn’t stand it as a drink on its own.
‘It is good for your bones because it contains lots of calcium,’ I explained, as I steered the Punto back onto Cinderhill Road. ‘But you can get calcium from lots of other foods, like yogurt and cheese, so you don’t have to drink milk if you don’t like it.’
Evie nodded solemnly. ‘I told them milk maked me poorly, and once, it maked me sick on next door’s cat. Then they let me have juice, instead.’
I suppressed a snort. She really had been sick over our former neighbour’s rare Persian Blue. I don’t think they – or the cat – ever properly forgave us.
Back at the house, Evie immediately headed over to her oversized box of Lego and emptied it out in the middle of the room. I sighed and shook my head.
‘Evie, I really don’t think this is the time to get—’
‘Toni, let her play, love,’ Mum overruled me, earning her a sweet smile from Evie. ‘We can work around her.’
‘Nanny, I need the toilet.’ Evie pursed her lips and frowned.
‘Come on then,’ Mum pandered. ‘Nanny will take you.’
Evie was five years old, and perfectly capable of taking herself to the loo. But I swallowed down my irritation. They would only both ignore me if I tried to intervene.
When they left the room, I sat down in one of the fold-up deckchairs we were making do with until the furniture arrived. I looked over at the boxes in the corner again but I didn’t make a move to unpack them.
I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to all the good times we’d had in the old house, the place in which Andrew and I had poured all our future hopes and dreams, and which was now another family’s home.
Not for the first time, I felt an overwhelming urge to run.
Run away from Mum, away from the memory of Andrew and, today, even run away from Evie. Just for a short while.
Regret corkscrewed into my chest. What fools Andrew and I had been, bounding ahead in life like hapless puppies, never thinking to watch out for the tripwire.
I felt the familiar beginnings of a panic attack building inside with no way of assuaging it. I pulled my handbag towards me and peered inside, just to reassure myself everything was still in there, tucked out of sight.
I kept trying to remind myself that I did have choices. Like, I could admit everything to Mum right now and put things right before it all got out of hand.
Yet the thought of asking for help felt like a knot of eels stirring in my stomach.
Deep down, I knew I couldn’t do it. Not yet.
More importantly, it would feel like I was overreacting. It wasn’t as if things were totally out of control, I was simply relying on a temporary solution for a short time. A crutch.
I knew what I was doing and I promised myself I wouldn’t let it slide too far.
I forced myself over to the corner of the room and half-heartedly pulled open the torn cardboard flaps of the box nearest to me. I sighed when I saw the contents: memorabilia of life as it used to be.
Family photographs taken on holiday, at Christmas, a celebratory meal out. A favourite painting of the three of us that Evie had done at nursery. Elaborate greetings cards: To Daddy, To My Loving Husband, To My Darling Wife.
I hadn’t been able to leave all this stuff behind, despite knowing there was a chronic lack of space in the new house. Part of me still needed it, to look at. So I could remember who we used to be. It was a way to keep hold of the frayed edges of what used to be my life.
I bit down hard on my tongue to bring me to my senses. I had to at least attempt to put an optimistic spin on things. This house signified a new start for me and for Evie, it was our new beginning. Like Mum said, I just had to give it all a chance to come right.
‘Stay positive and really try to believe it,’ I said out loud to myself. ‘Everything will work out for the best.’ But the words rattled empty and lost in the echoing space that surrounded me.
When Mum and Evie came back downstairs, we sat drinking tea. Things felt calmer, more settled.
Until there was a sharp rap on the door.
Mum and I looked at each other in surprise but Evie didn’t even look up, so absorbed was she in assembling her coloured bricks.
‘Do you want me to get it?’ Mum said.
‘No, I’ll go.’ I hauled myself up and smoothed the escaped wisps of my hurriedly scraped-back pony tail.
I could see right away there was no shadow cast by a caller standing at the opaque glass but I opened the door and prepared myself to smile at the delivery man or postman or whoever it might be that would appear.
But there was nobody there.
I looked down. A beautiful arrangement of lilies sat on the doorstep, one of those expensive, handtied bouquets where the water was self-contained in the big plastic bubble at the bottom. The whole thing was set in a glossy black bag, complete with carry handles.
I stepped over the flowers and out onto the grass, looking up and down the street, but no one appeared to be around.
I picked up the arrangement by the handles but it felt a little unstable, so I held it by the stylish black casing and carried it back inside.
‘Look what I found on the doorstep,’ I said with a grin, walking into the lounge.
‘Ooh, pretty flowers.’ Evie jumped up. ‘Who sended them, Mummy?’
‘I don’t know who sent them yet.’ I smiled. I set the bouquet down on the floor. ‘Have a scout around in the flowers, Evie, see if you can find the little message envelope.’
Mum raised her eyebrow. ‘Any idea who they’re from?’
‘Not a clue.’ I watched as Evie carefully parted the blooms, looking for the sender’s message. ‘Although I did send our new contact details out to my entire address book, so might be any one of them.’
‘Well, I can tell you now, that display won’t have been cheap,’ Mum remarked. ‘Those Stargazer lilies are—’
Mum was cut short by Evie’s blood-freezing scream.
‘Evie, what is it?’ I jumped up and ran over to her.
She began slapping her hands together and whimpering and I saw an insect fly up towards the ceiling. I glanced down at the flowers as a wasp emerged. Then another. And another – all heading for Evie’s pale, exposed arms and hands.
‘Wasps!’ I screamed, launching myself at my daughter and using my own arms to cover her head and body. ‘They’re in the bouquet!’
Evie’s screams and Mum’s wailing masked the pain I could feel pinching at my arms and shoulders. I smashed my arm to the side to push away the flowers and the whole thing toppled over.