INVISIBLE INK ALERT: Mrs E is nice. She doesn’t want me to go to prison to eat sprouts ever, ever, ever. Not even for ONE THOUSAND MILLION FLUFFY NEON PENCIL CASES. I have to keep my secret that’s why I can’t talk even one word about anything to daddy. If I did, I would have to lie to him and I can never lie to daddy. He is cleverer than me and he’d find a super-spy way of getting me to talk.
* * *
When you are out of prison, don’t worry, everything will turn back to normal. I won’t lie anymore and you won’t shout any more. Okay, whoops! Normal is the totally opposite. You’ll shout like a loony and I’ll lie my head off. YEEEEEEAAAAAH. I HEART NORMAL. I am so happy you are not in prison anymore.
* * *
Sorry again, sorry again and again. I’m so sorry, I’m saying sorry from Sorryville,
Rosie
* * *
P.S. At home after we have hugged and made it up together, you can’t be cross with me anymore. That’s the rule, remember. OR ELSE... (Just kidding).
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I had called my mother hundreds of times before, but I had never done it with sticky hands and a fluttery stomach. As I clutched my phone, I watched the trees at the bottom of the garden bend over to the right, as though pointing out to sea, to an escape route maybe.
‘Hi Mum.’
‘Darling, how are you and the bump?’
‘Fine, fine. How are you, first?’ I asked, procrastinating, gauging her mood.
‘Oh you know, only the usual,’ she sighed.
‘How are your wrists?’
‘Sore, and that stupid doctor told me I had to stop using the computer.’
‘Might a rest be a good idea?’ I asked hopefully.
‘My students email me about everything these days, it would be quite impossible.’ She had such a gentle, girly voice, it was easy to forget the ferocity in the subtext. There was no point persuading her further, even if it meant she’d have to have both hands amputated.
‘We’re all so reliant on the bloody things.’
‘Computers or hands?’ she chuckled.
‘They’re fused these days, aren’t they?’
My mother chuckled again. ‘So, how are my grandchildren doing?’
‘Well, actually, that’s what I’m calling about.’
My heart raced. I couldn’t believe what I was about to tell her. I couldn’t believe I was about to ask her to give up her life for us. It wasn’t a fair request, none of it was fair.
‘We’ve had a bit of a nightmare,’ I began.
I clearly and succinctly pushed out the bare facts of my arrest, with minimal emotion and dollops of positivity. My mother was silent all the way through. ‘But it’s going to be fine,’ I finished off, wondering if my mother was still on the other end.
There was a long silence.
‘Mum, are you still there?’
‘Plainly, those police officers have misinterpreted something Rosie said.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed, knowing this was the only bearable way of looking at it. ‘But unless she changes her statement, which, to be honest, is still possible, the police will want to investigate her allegations further and so we’re going to have to run with it.’
Run with it? Like it was a strategy meeting.
‘Will it be dropped if she changes her statement?’
‘Yes, immediately apparently.’
‘And there I was complaining about my wrists.’
‘Your wrists are just as important.’
‘Nonsense. What’s this lawyer like?’
‘Very good I think.’
‘What does he suggest you do now?’
‘Well, that’s the thing, she says that we have to be as compliant as possible.’
‘Which means?’
‘It means I might not be allowed to be alone with the kids, and Peter and I were thinking...’
‘That’s preposterous,’ she interrupted before spluttering out a series of swear words under her breath.
‘It’s part of some kind of safeguarding plan, just while they carry out what they call a closing strategy investigation. A social worker will be coming round,’ I said, floored by the reality once again. My hands began sweating. My cheeks flushed.
‘A social worker?’ she cried.
‘Yes, obviously, if there’s a safeguarding plan.’
‘Well, I don’t know anything about this kind of thing,’ she said, smugly, the better parent. I drew in a calming breath and continued.
‘As soon as Monday, apparently, to draw up some agreement or something.’
‘And you say this Philippa woman is good, yes?’
I sighed and rubbed my temple, ‘Yes, Mum. She helps me out all the time at work. I really like her.’
‘She’s not an employment solicitor is she?’ Mum said, as though this might be the lowest form of life.
‘She trained in criminal law.’
‘You’ll need a really good one, you do realise that, don’t you darling.’
I rolled my eyes to the heavens. ‘Yes, I do realise.’
‘You know what can happen if those social worker types start nosing around don’t you?’
Instantly, my womb seized up around my baby and I felt like groaning as the nausea rolled through me. ‘Of course I bloody well know.’
‘And it won’t be just Rosie, it will be all three.’
I wanted to shout at her SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP! Don’t say it, Mum. Don’t even think it. I felt feint, almost giddy with fear.
‘Over my dead body.’
‘Don’t say things like that.’
‘Rosie will take it back, I’m sure of it.’
‘But, still, I really think you need the best lawyer you can find, why don’t I put you in touch with my guy?’
‘Philippa is an outstanding solicitor.’
‘But this isn’t something you can get wrong.’
‘Mum, leave it okay? It’s my choice not yours,’ I snapped.
She sniffed and rustled something, ‘Okay, if you think she’s good, but if you change your mind, just say the word.’ She sounded hurt, as though my rejection of her advice was a stab in the eye.
I lost the will to follow through with it. I doubted there was any point.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.’
‘That’s okay. You’re under a lot of strain,’ she said quietly. I imagined her dabbing her eye like an actress in a silent film.
‘Look, I’ll call you later, okay?’
‘I wanted to help, that’s all,’ she added.
Having been poised to bottle it and hang up, I knew I could not now. ‘Actually, that’s why I was calling,’ I said, going through the motions of the request pointlessly. ‘If Rosie does stick to her statement, we’ll need someone to live-in here to help with childcare and everything. Just until the fourth. Well, you know, if the fourth even becomes a thing...’
At least I could tell Peter I tried, but there was no way my mother was going to say yes. We couldn’t even get through a telephone conversation without sniping at each other.
‘And you thought of me?’ Her voice quivered.
‘Well, yes, of course we did,’ I said irritably, knowing her ego would enjoy the flattery.
‘David wouldn’t like it,’ she said, sounding gleeful. Ever since my mother had joined the university as a lecturer, she had talked endlessly about David, the dean of the university. Peter was convinced she was in love with David. Whether this was true or not, one thing was certain, she absolutely loved aggravating him.
‘Of course.’
‘And Ming Ho and Anya really are at crucial turning points right now.’
‘I can imagine.’ I looked out to the trees, which had bounced back to upright. I zoned out of my mother’s predictable excuses. I didn’t blame her, I just didn’t like listening to it.
‘And I’d have to get John to look after Minxy.’
‘Yes, I know. It was too much to ask,’ I sighed, waiting to hear more reasons why it was impossible. I felt a flash of regret and then anger towards Peter for putting me in this position. I should never have asked her.
‘What hours would you need someone?’
‘To cover Peter from seven in the morning until drop-off time – the kids are out of the door at 8.15 – then someone needs to be home, here, when they come in at four – unless they have after school clubs when its later. And then I get in at six-ish, mostly, and Peter at nine-ish. We also need cover at the weekends. Peter’s got three conferences coming up.’