And then I clicked. She must have heard my fight with Rosie. I felt the damp seep through my stretched sleeves, which were clenched in my fingertips, the wool sticky in my palms. This wasn’t a casual visit from Mira. This wasn’t to notify us that we had waited too long to cut the hedges; to tell us that we had left our bins out on the wrong day; to inform us that the house alarm had rung for an hour before the police had turned up; to inform us of how many lights we’d left on while we’d been away; to pass comment on how much fun we seemed to be having at the dinner parties we held. I could tell by her demeanour.
Generally, Mira was jolly, ruddy and chatty; the kind of woman who makes homemade biscuits to put in the blue bucket for the cheeky little girl next door. Now, in the murky glow of my half-lit hallway, she stood wide and seemed edgy. If I turned her away, or made excuses, I would look like I had something to hide. Did I have anything to hide?
‘Would you like to come in for a glass of something? Peter has opened a bottle already.’
‘Oh, okay, if it’s not too late?’
‘No, no, do come in.’ Yes, nine o’clock is too late when you have to get up at five thirty, I thought.
She was looking around at the shiny fittings and furniture as though a nasty surprise lurked ready to jump out at her. I saw my house through her eyes. It was probably unnecessarily luxurious. Too much velvet and crisp linen; too many expensive surfaces and designer lines.
Mira sat down at the kitchen table, wobbling it. The unsettled flame of the scented candle let out a plume of black smoke.
‘Lovely kitchen,’ she said, taking a sip of wine.
‘Thanks, we had it done last year by a dad at the kids’ school. If you want to do yours, I’ll text you his number, if you like, he’s really good. He sourced really cheap work surfaces for us. I mean, usually they cost a fortune. Just let me know,’ I droned, trailing off, knowing she wasn’t the kind of woman to update her kitchen. She probably thought I was such a cliché.
‘We’ve still got Barry’s mum’s kitchen. The cupboards are an ugly old mush green but they do the job.’
‘Yes, of course, I’m sure. It doesn’t really matter, does it? I mean, honestly, I never used to care about what my kitchen units looked like. Now, I don’t know, it kind of seems like the thing to do round here. Like I might have fewer friends if I didn’t have a nice kitchen,’ I laughed, only half-joking. Her presence was unsettling me.
Mira cocked her head at me sympathetically, as if I had made a confession. I suppose I had, in a way. In this small town, the obsession with house renovations and the talk of it at dinner parties had probably got to me, on some level. Perhaps it had turned me without me noticing. I filled my empty wine glass with fizzy water, aware that the half-glass of Chablis had gone straight to my head.
‘Well, we’re all the same. I spent such a lot of money on new curtains from John Lewis for our lounge, to match our cushions, you know? And as soon as Barry had put them up I hated them. What a waste. Silly, isn’t it?’
I was so grateful to her for being kind, I laughed, a little too loudly and enthusiastically, and relaxed a little. She grinned and took another sip of wine. Her hair was bouncing back as it dried, shooting up from her widow’s peak.
‘Yes, it is silly. Very silly,’ I agreed. I decided that I had been paranoid to suspect she had come round because of Rosie. A fast-forward replay of my row with Rosie pricked my consciousness, but only briefly. All young children screamed, and Mira of all people would know this. At Woodlands, she would be surrounded by screaming children all day long.
‘Gosh, sorry Mira, I was supposed to get Peter for you, wasn’t I? He’s in the den. You can’t hear the doorbell from there. I’ll be back in a minute.’
I nipped down the corridor, feeling swimmy from the wine. While pregnant with Rosie and Noah, I had never allowed myself more than a few sips of champagne on special occasions, and I was reminded of why.
Peter was lying stretched out on the sofa with his hand down his trousers, scratching his balls. The sound of racing cars screeched from the television.
‘Peter, didn’t you hear the doorbell?’ I whispered.
‘No, who was it?’
‘It’s Mira, from next door. She’s here in the kitchen having a drink.’
‘What? What the hell?’ he said, sitting up and untwisting his shirt.
‘She wanted to talk to you about borrowing our lawnmower.’
‘Oh hell. Can’t you talk to her about it?’
‘I didn’t know we even owned a lawnmower.’
‘How d’you think Luke mowed our lawn? With nail clippers?’ he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me, plainly amused, plainly half-cut already.
‘Oh, stop it, I don’t know, just come through will you?’
He padded after me in his socks with his empty wine glass in one hand.
‘Hello Mira! What a lovely surprise!’ he bellowed, pushing his hand into hers affectionately.
‘Hello, Peter. Sorry, I’m not staying,’ she said, not moving an inch.
‘A drop more?’ He topped up her glass and poured another one for himself. ‘What were you two gassing about?’ he asked, as though we were long-lost friends.
‘Kitchens,’ Mira laughed.
‘Oh Lord. You don’t want me to pay for another one, do you darling?’ Peter said. The mischief lit his eyes. I was the one who had paid for the kitchen.
‘No, no, I was just telling Mira how much I loved slaving over a hot stove for you darling, night and day. Filled with gratitude for all that you provide, my Lord and Master.’
Peter and I laughed together. The hell of bedtime, and Rosie, and my rage, slipped away into the background.
‘Us women know how to keep our families happy, don’t we just?’ Mira laughed.
‘Right, indeed,’ Peter said, clapping his hands. ‘Now, I’ll just get you the keys for the shed. The code for the gate is 2211. So you can nip in to get it any time you like.’
‘Oh, that is very kind, thank you,’ Mira said, looking over to me as she stood up.
I forced out a smile out and nodded. ‘Yes, of course, brilliant, that’s fine,’ I said, irritated by Peter’s gesture. I didn’t want her wandering into our home any time she liked. I hadn’t even given the gate code to my mother, or Rosie.
‘Mummy?’
My smile dropped away. Rosie appeared in the doorway in her pink nightgown like a ghostly apparition. I wanted to scream.
Mira turned to see who it was.
Peter caught my eye briefly. ‘Rosie, darling. What are you doing up again? Come on, up to bed,’ he said, trying to lead her away. Rosie wouldn’t budge.
I pushed Mira’s chair under the table and straightened it to match the other chairs. ‘I’ll see you to the door Mira. Off to bed, now, Rosie, poppet. Daddy’ll take you up,’ I said, trying to sound flippant, unfazed.
‘But I want you, Mummy. I can’t sleep.’
‘Why can’t you sleep, pet?’ Mira asked, crouching down to her level.
‘My wrist is hurting.’
‘Oh dear. What did you do to it?’ Mira said, pulling up her sleeve to inspect it.
The red groove looked angrier than before.
‘Nothing,’ Rosie said, glancing up at me.
My heart was in my mouth.
From her haunches, Mira twisted her head, still holding Rosie’s arm, and frowned at me. The kitchen down-lighters cast long eyelash shadows on her cheeks, like clown tears.
‘She slammed her bedroom door on her hand. Isn’t that right, Rosie?’ I said, looking to Rosie for confirmation.
Rosie looked up at me as though she was looking up at an ogre. Her blue eyes were wide, smudges of tiredness ringing them. Her skin glowed a frightening white. Her chin wobbled and dimpled.
Trying to hide my agitation and my guilt, I rolled my eyes at Mira, about to say, ‘Look at this madam, with all her drama!’
Mira did not give me the chance to say anything. She dropped Rosie’s arm and fled, towards the front door, past Peter who was pulling the shed key from the hooks in the boot room.
‘I’ll come by for the lawn mower tomorrow,’ she said from behind her fingers, which were pressed to her mouth, and she disappeared into the gloom outside.
Peter emerged from the boot room dangling the keys on one finger. ‘What an earth spooked her?’
‘You shouldn’t have given her the gate code,’ I barked, storming past him. ‘Get upstairs Rosie, or there’ll be trouble. Up, up, up,’ I said, smacking her bottom gently as she ran upstairs.
Before she turned the corner at the top of the stairs, I caught a satisfied smirk on Rosie’s pretty little face.
* * *