‘It’s a part of it.’
‘Well, at the end of the day – oh my God, such a horrible phrase, I’m sorry! – but still, you have a daughter. You have that closeness. Look, I’ll tell you something – here, have a drop more – all the time we were in the supermarket – Lauren and I – oh it’s silly, I know, but I was thinking, “I hope people think I’m her mum and she’s my daughter”, you know? Just once. You don’t think that’s terrible, do you? Or awful?’
Claire’s head swam. Pills and brandy on a nearly empty stomach. ‘No. I can understand that. I really can.’
‘She’s such a poppet. Such a very affectionate girl, and well, I’d be very proud of her. If she was mine, I mean. You’re so lucky.’
They sat in silence and watched the fire bank down. Of course, after all that brandy, Marianne couldn’t drive home; that vague, unspecified place she inhabited. ‘Horrible hole. Spartan. I’m only house-sitting for a friend – an actor, and you know what they’re like. Barely any amenities, that’s one of the reasons I’m so envious of you lovely ladies.’
‘You can stay here, whenever you’d like.’ Claire said it without thinking.
‘I’m glad, because even though it might seem a bit out there, I feel very close to you. Both of you. And what’s weird is that it doesn’t really feel that weird, you know what I mean? It’s more organic, more natural somehow. Now, let me tell you something that’s a bit more out there. A bit left field. Oh, God, I’ll need another drink for this! You? Yes? Just a little one. OK, I really, truly and totally believe that we were meant to meet. All three of us. There’s something about this situation, us meeting that way on the beach. I don’t know. I sound mad, I know, but I feel it, I do. I am meant to be in your life, and’ – she banged their entwined hands softly on the table top for emphasis – ‘ I. Am. Here. To. Help. Both of you.’
They stayed silent for a few moments, Marianne keeping up her significant gaze and Claire trying to keep her eyes open.
‘And on that note,’ Marianne laughed, rising unsteadily, ‘I really had better get to bed, before I begin to scare you. There’s a mad woman in the attic!’
‘Oh, no, Marianne, really—’
‘I can be too intense for most people, I know that.’ She stared at her knees. ‘But, I know what I feel.’ She tapped the paisley scarf over her heart.
Claire coughed. ‘You’ll be all right in the spare room?’
‘The one overlooking the drive? It’s heavenly. Really.’ Her brandy bright eyes twinkled. ‘Perfect. It’s like something out of Enid Blyton, isn’t it? These low eaves . . . we could be in the Faraway Tree.’
‘You should tell Lauren that. She loves Enid Blyton at the moment.’
‘Oh Lord, who doesn’t? It’s so comforting, isn’t it? Unthreatening? Magical creatures, strong friendships, adventures . . .’ She drifted towards the stairs. ‘Many moons ago I wrote a series of children’s books on that kind of theme – updated though, you know. And not so English . . .’
‘Did you publish them?’ Claire felt pinpricks of wariness again.
‘Oh, I was going to. A company was begging for them, but something stopped me,’ she laughed. ‘Something always seems to stop me.’ She turned to Claire, her sad, craggy face furrowed. ‘Being alone, that’s the hardest thing. I need to be with people to create, to really complete something, you know?’
Claire’s eyes refused to open. The silence lengthened. ‘I do. Being alone, well, it can be hard.’
‘Yes it can.’ Marianne sighed, looking at the ceiling. ‘It can indeed. But! Onwards and upwards! Do you need a hand up the stairs?’
‘No, I’ll be all right. The pills have worked.’
‘OK, I’ll do my best to keep Lola quiet in the morning.’
‘We don’t have a spare toothbrush, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. I bought one today. Sleep well, Claire. Take it easy in the morning. I’ll deal with anything that needs to be done.
* * *
The next morning, Claire woke to find Lorna crouched beside the bed, shivering. She looked like she had been waiting a long time.
‘Can I come in your bed?’ she managed through chattering teeth.
‘How long have you been there?’ said Claire, folding over the blankets to let her in. ‘Quick, you’re freezing.’
‘I woke up worried,’ said the girl, snuggling down and putting her cold feet on Claire’s thigh. ‘About Marianne.’
‘What about her?’
‘I don’t think you like her, and if you don’t like her, I don’t want to like her,’ she whispered.
‘I do like her.’
‘Really?’ Lorna examined one bitten finger.
‘I do. I thought she was a bit . . . strange . . . at first. But she’s been very kind and nice and she’s lovely to you, so of course I like her.’
Lorna sighed; she hadn’t cleaned her teeth, her breath was sweet, rotten. ‘I like her too, and I like Benji. Move up!’ She wiggled around, pushing a sharp elbow into Claire’s midriff. ‘She said that I’m a really very good dancer.’
‘Did she?’
‘Yes, and she used to be a dancer, did you know?’
‘I don’t think she used to be a dancer,’ smiled Claire.
‘She did! She told me.’ Lorna propped herself up on one elbow, nodding insistently. ‘When she was little, or my age. She told me.’
Claire considered it. It could be true. ‘Well, then, that’s quite a compliment.’
‘Yes.’ Lorna closed her eyes and remained silent. Claire was drifting back to sleep when Lorna piped up again. ‘She said I could be a dancer. She said I could train starting now and maybe get good enough to be famous.’ She smiled brightly. ‘I could dance on a stage.’
‘Mmmmm.’
‘Or I could go to stage school and be an actress ’cause they teach dancing there, too.’
‘Mmm.’
‘You’re not listening!’ That sharp elbow again. ‘Listen!’