‘Since when did you like women?’ I ask, and she looks to the ceiling.
‘Part of me always thought I might, but I never met a woman I wanted to be with,’ Faye says, her eyes crinkling into a smile. ‘And then I met Alex on this upholstery course, and it was like everything that had been missing in my life just clicked into place.’
‘Why didn’t you ever tell me that you were into upholstery?’
Faye gives me an amused look. ‘I don’t know. Everyone discovers themselves at different times.’ She frowns. ‘She’s going to be upset that you don’t remember her. I should go see if she’s okay.’
‘Should I come and apologise?’ I ask, but Faye shakes her head. ‘I’m happy for you, Faye. I’m sorry I didn’t say the right thing. Just when I think I understand how everything is different, something else changes.’ I wave an arm in her direction.
‘I haven’t changed, Lucy. I just met someone and fell in love.’ Faye reaches out to stroke my hair. ‘Why don’t you have a shower, get dressed. We could all go for a walk together. The crocuses are out, it’s a glorious day.’
‘Maybe tomorrow.’
‘You can’t hide up here forever. You’re going to have to face life eventually.’ She turns at the door, then says more firmly, ‘People need you, Lucy.’
Once Faye has gone, I try to quell a nagging sense of guilt by picking up my phone. There’s a new message from Michael.
Lucy, I know you’re not well, but we really need to talk. The pitch off is only three weeks away, and I haven’t even heard your idea. Is there anything you can send over? Anything the team can be working on in your absence? M.
Pitch off? A new hum of anxiety sets in. I shut my phone in the bedside drawer and pull the duvet back over my head.
Someone nudges me awake, and I open my eyes to see Sam sitting on the bed beside me, picking up my book, which has fallen on the floor. ‘Lucy, come on. The doctor said you needed rest, but this isn’t healthy. At least come downstairs for a meal with the kids.’ He pauses, his eyes full of concern. ‘Do you even know what day it is?’
‘Wednesday?’
‘It’s Friday, Lucy.’
‘I’m just so tired. I’ve got this terrible headache.’ Both these things are true. Though mainly because I stayed up all night reading Breaking Dawn, and googling ‘When did Twix bars get so small?’ so I’m out of sync with the world.
Sam’s jaw clenches, as he reaches out to feel my forehead.
‘Please just let me sleep,’ I say, already exhausted by this conversation.
It might be the following morning when I wake to a small knock on my door.
‘Hello?’ I say, squinting towards the light coming from the corridor.
‘Can I come in?’ Felix asks, hovering at the threshold.
‘Of course,’ I say, sitting up, and pulling my T-shirt down to make sure I’m decent. Now, when I’m not wearing a bra, my boobs droop. They’re not always where I think they should be, so in company, I double-check they’re fully sheathed.
‘Why are you in bed? It’s teatime,’ Felix asks, turning on the light. My eyes squint against the unwelcome glare.
‘Mummy’s not very well,’ I say, channelling Beth from Little Women.
‘You don’t look sick,’ he says.
‘Well, it’s not something you can see, it’s an inside illness. Do you know what mental health means?’
‘Yes. We have a mental health coach at school.’ He pauses. ‘Don’t you want to find the portal and go home?’
‘Felix, Mummy was confused when she said that. She doesn’t think there is a magic portal.’ I attempt a maternal smile, now channelling Marmee from Little Women. Why is Little Women my only reference point for facial expressions? And why am I speaking in the third person? I hate it when people do that. I try again. ‘I’m still me, Felix, I’m still your mother. I’ve just forgotten a few things.’
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Felix says. ‘If you tell me what the machine looked like, we could find out who made it. People collect these old machines, don’t they? There could be more than one.’
Before I can reply, he’s thrust an iPad into my hand, and the screen animates with multiple-choice questions, under a golden banner than reads, ‘Portal Quest’.
‘You made this?’ I ask, impressed.
‘I do coding club at school. We’re studying flow charts and visual problem solving. Mummy said it wouldn’t be hard for me, and it’s not.’
His confidence is contagious, and I feel a brief rush of hope. Maybe the machine is out there. Maybe we could find it. But then my rational mind kicks in.
‘Even if I still believed there was a portal, which I’m not sure I do, the chances of me finding it and somehow being able to wind back time – it’s all so improbable,’ I say with a sigh. Felix scuffs a shoe back and forth on the carpet, one arm swinging limply at his side.
Besides the shock of learning about Zoya, I think the reason I haven’t been able to get out of bed these last few days is that doubt about how I came to be here has set in. If I no longer believe there is a portal – then I have to accept there’s no going back.
‘So you’re just going to stay in bed for the rest of your life?’ Felix asks, his little voice angry.
‘No, I’m . . .’ But I trail off because I don’t know what to say. ‘I’m just sad, Felix.’
He turns and heads for the door, hugging the tablet to his chest. Then he stops in the doorway and says, ‘Remember when I didn’t want to go to school because Tom Hoskyns was picking on me for still liking Corn Dogs Adventure Planet?’ He shakes his head. ‘You said, “You have to get up and face the day, because every day is a gift, and you can’t let Tom Hoskyns or anyone else steal a single one from you.” ’
‘I said that?’
‘Yeah, you did,’ Felix says with a sigh. Then before I can say anything else, he stomps off down the corridor, his shoulders hunched up on his narrow frame.
Unexpectedly, this is the pep talk I needed to push me out of my depressive funk. He’s right. I’m not going to fix anything by lying here feeling sorry for myself, scrolling through old photos, watching endless Poirot episodes and lamenting the size of chocolate bars. However I got here, here I am. I’ve missed a huge chunk of my life, one of my best friends is dead, and I’ll never be able to go braless in public again, but it is what it is. With aching clarity, I realise that however alien this life might feel, it is more of a life than Zoya will ever get to live. That little boy needs a mother, even if it’s one who’s completely unqualified, who doesn’t know anything about him or even what Corn Dogs Adventure Planet is, but I guess that’s what the Internet is for.
So, I get up. I have a shower. I wash my hair and I change my bed sheets. Then I draw back the curtains and open the windows. Maria is downstairs when I emerge looking clean and half-human. She crosses the room to give me a hug.
‘Oh Lucy, you poor thing. How are you feeling?’
‘Like it’s time to get up.’
Amy reaches for me from her highchair. ‘Mama!’
‘She needs a nappy change,’ Maria says, crossing the room to get her.
‘I’ll do it,’ I say.