‘It’s the morning.’
‘Well, it’s not as if you’re going anywhere, is it? If you need to get anything from the shops I can go for you. Sit down and let me make amends.’ And she hustled Claire into a kitchen chair. Marianne hissed through her teeth when she saw the ankle, gently moved it from side to side while Claire winced. ‘Nasty. This happened to me once and I was out of commission for weeks. Here, take these.’ She held out four pills. ‘And I’ll put on some of that gel once the pain lessens. Keep it up too. Do you have a little table and a cushion?’
Outside they could hear Lorna bounding about with the dog, squealing. The wind buffeted the windows and blew leaves and gravel into the kitchen.
‘Crazy crazy puppy!’ shrieked Lorna. ‘Lovely crazy puppy!’ Then the door slammed abruptly.
‘She doesn’t seem very shy.’ Marianne passed Claire an unwanted cup of coffee and brandy.
‘She’s timid around new people, and dogs, until she gets to know them. She does seem to have taken a liking to Benji though.’
‘Oh we were having a fine time just now. She was telling me all about her old school.’
‘She was talking about school?’ Claire tried to keep the surprise out of her voice.
‘Yes. And her hamster.’
‘Hamster?’
‘The one that died, just before you came here?’
‘Oh, yes, sorry.’ Claire, flustered, blew on her coffee. ‘The one that died.’
‘How’s the coffee?’
‘Lovely. It’s lovely.’
‘So, how long has she been out of school?’ Marianne asked.
Claire took a deep breath. ‘She was in mainstream until Year Four.’
‘So recently? Does she miss it? The interaction with other children, I mean?’
‘No.’ Claire held her mouth tight.
‘It can be a difficult transition. Steiner always said – what was it?’
‘I don’t know.’
There was a pause. ‘I can see I’ve touched a nerve.’ Marianne laughed lightly, but her eyes were hurt. ‘It’s just that she seems so full of life. Energy. And it can’t all be the negative ions. And teaching is such a vocation. I mean, you have to be made for it, don’t you? It’s such a big thing to take on.’
‘I am a teacher.’
‘Oh, really?’ Marianne gave a wide smile. Her front teeth were slightly rimmed with black. ‘I taught too, for many years. Small groups. It’s a wonderful job, but sometimes so constricting. I found it so, negative sometimes. The other teachers I mean. The system. No room for manoeuvre, you know?’
‘So you’re a teacher and a singer and an actress? Really?’ The words were out of Claire’s mouth before she knew it; she shocked herself. Marianne folded her mouth shut and stared at her lap. Claire felt terrible. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound rude. You seem to have done so much, that’s all.’
‘Well. Perhaps I share too much,’ Marianne said shortly.
‘You’ve been very kind, and I didn’t mean for a minute—’
‘And I don’t often get to talk with people who have the same interests and experiences as I do. And I thought, with you also having a teaching background . . .’ Marianne stood up, smiling like a hurt child. ‘Ach well. Look, it’s your business. And you’re a protective mother, and I honour that. I really do. I just really wanted to come and see if you were OK. I felt just terrible last night, thinking about you both all alone here. But of course, you’re not really alone. If you have each other.’ She reached slowly for her shoulder bag, large eyes cast down, holding her mouth in a tight little line. Claire felt even worse.
‘I’m sorry. We’re so isolated here and – I’m sorry. I was sharp. I haven’t had much sleep, but that’s not really an excuse. You were so kind to come and see how I was.’
Marianne stayed standing. A tear fell onto the tabletop. She dabbed it with a trembling finger. ‘I’d better go.’
‘No!’ Claire’s guilt was paralysing. She felt as if she’d kicked a crippled animal. ‘No, really, please stay. I’ll make you another cup of tea.’
‘You can’t walk,’ said Marianne, smiling a little. ‘I can do it. If you’re sure. I don’t want to impose myself.’
Claire began to feel the painkillers. A gorgeous tingling inertia spread through her limbs, her mouth loosened, her lips were going numb.
‘I feel a bit better,’ she said and Marianne looked so happy, she said it again. ‘Those pills.’
‘I know! Wondrous, aren’t they? Oh, I got an ice compress thing for you too, I’ll put it in the freezer for a bit. In the meantime . . .’ she waggled the brandy bottle ‘. . . straight or in more coffee?’
Claire swallowed, smiled. ‘No more brandy please.’
‘Yes more brandy. Then a lie-down. You have to rest. Doctor’s orders.’
‘You’re a doctor too?’ Claire smiled, woozy and reckless.
‘Oh honey. Don’t let me commence.’ Marianne pouted and rolled her eyes and the accent was back, thicker now, a southern drawl.
Claire smiled again, sleepy, safe; the pain beautifully blanketed by the brandy and pills. Barking and shrieks from the outside reached her dreamily, and weak alarm tried to surface. Lorna, who must not admit to her real name. Lorna, guileless and unprotected. She made a huge effort to open her eyes, to speak.
‘Can you – Marianne – can you get L—, my daughter, inside? Can you tell her I need to speak to her?’
And Marianne opened the door, yelled into the garden, ‘Lauren! Lauren! Mummy wants you!’
And when Lorna appeared at the door, Claire managed to say, ‘Lauren?’
And Lorna replied, smiling, ‘Yes Mum?’
Claire fought through the fog of the pills. She had to get Marianne out of the house, or away at least, to give her a chance to talk to Lorna.
‘Marianne, can I ask you a favour? You’ve been so kind already, but if I give you some money could you drive to the shop and get us some milk, bread and things? And – Lauren, are you being careful with Benji?’