“Morning,” they trill in unison, just as they do at school (“good morning, Mrs. How-ard; good morning, ev’ry-bod-y”).
Hilary and Drew are in the kitchen. He’s drinking coffee and looking at a big newspaper and she’s cooking bacon and sausages that fizz and spit in the pan. The adults’ bottles from last night have been washed up and are stacked neatly in a box, as Hilary has recently taken up recycling.
“Why the hell aren’t you dressed?” Drew Granger suddenly explodes at his son. Sarah and Robin look down awkwardly at their own nightclothes and cross and uncross their legs nervously.
“I’ll go and change,” Callum says quietly.
“How are you feeling, Robin?” Hilary asks gently.
“Okay. Hungry.”
She’s not sure what she’s said wrong, but Robin notices Drew Granger frowning and ruffling his paper. Their mum is watching from the archway through to the kitchen. She’s changed out of her nightie double quick and is wearing a new summer dress that sticks to her body.
“Very nice,” Drew Granger says to her, and she smiles and looks away. Hilary carries on turning the sausages and Robin’s tummy rumbles loudly.
NINE
SARAH|PRESENT DAY
5. The Bruises
When I first held Violet, I’d never seen skin so new. She was almost see-through and so soft you could barely feel her. She smelled of milk and talcum powder, at once ancient and fleeting.
Until she filled out from all the creamy milk, Violet had scrappy red legs that folded up like a frog’s. She wore the smallest nappies and I felt like I was dressing a doll made of eggshells when I had to navigate the fabric over her tiny wrapped fist.
She was a little dollop of innocence and her easy trust stirred up a near-murderous rage in me, just imagining that there was some generalized evil that could seep under the door and touch her. We loved each other immediately. I know that wherever she is, whichever familiar room she’s waking up in, she still loves me. And that the love she’s feeling must be tinged with pain and confusion because I’m not there. And I’ve always been there.
I have never deliberately hurt Violet. I have spent the last three and something years chasing away any pain she might be at risk of, at least kissing it better when I didn’t manage to prevent it. Hugging her tiny body as it bucked with the force of her tears.
THE BRUISES.
Again, no explanation. His expression was almost goading. Just try to deny it, his raised eyebrows said.
I couldn’t deny it. She did have bruises. Every kid has bruises. She didn’t have bruises as a baby. She picked up a few murky smudges on her legs when she first started toddling, but those were not the bruises in question. The bruises I think he was referring to were from last year, when Violet was two and a half. The truth is, I don’t know how she got them. And I realize how bad that sounds.
We were at a big adventure playground in Bracknell Forest with a bunch of other kids and mums from our local toddler group. We’d carpooled, Violet and I, in the large SUV of a woman I’d never even spoken to before, grappling for conversation that crash-landed in silence three-quarters of the way there. The woman had twin boys, a little younger than Violet but bigger and louder. Little tanks. The back of the car was rowdy until all three fell asleep just as we pulled into the car park.
The adventure playground was organized into different sections, and a bank of picnic tables ran alongside the fenced play equipment, benches stuffed with women and a few men, hands wrapped around plastic cups of coffee or decanting tea from flasks. I stood holding the fence of the playground, watching Violet’s every move as she tentatively followed the others up cargo nets and down slides. It was a world away from our little village park, and Violet looked more daunted than excited. She seemed eager to leave almost as soon as we arrived.
One of the mums had tapped me on the shoulder and offered me tea from her flask. It was a kind gesture and I turned to smile at her as she poured it for me, and we had a brief conversation about how awkward we both found these events. “Us shy ones should stick together,” she’d said, and I felt a little shiver of kinship.
She went back to her table, but when I looked back at the playground, I couldn’t see Violet. She wasn’t on the cargo net, where she’d been moments ago, and she wasn’t on the slide, where she’d been before that. The big twins were there, snot-nosed and oblivious. The other children who’d been near her were there, playing and feuding, but she wasn’t. I was immediately frantic. My head whistled with fear. “Where’s Violet?” I’d shouted to the twin boys, who ignored me. I ran to the cluster of mums, grabbing one of them by the arm. “Have you seen Violet?” I asked. They shook their heads and looked concerned. A couple of them joined me to look. “Which one is she again?” a redheaded mum asked. I found it near-impossible to describe her. I saw her when my eyes closed. I lived for her. I couldn’t put any of it into words.
“Don’t worry,” the mums had all said, rubbing my back and gathering me up in their energy. We covered all of the ground. I was desperate, spinning uselessly around. Suddenly I turned toward the café and saw a woman holding Violet tightly. I ran over, heart pounding, and tried to rip Violet from her arms.
“Hey,” the woman had cried, “what are you doing?”
“She’s mine!” I’d cried.
“Are you her mum?” she’d asked. “She was lost.”
“I only looked away for a second,” I said, outraged but near-sick with relief. I’d stroked her hair, kissed her cheeks. She was still shaking and sobbing. “Where did you go, darling?” I’d asked her. The woman who’d had her was hovering but I barely noticed. Violet just hugged into me, her tears soaking my coat.
“She was wandering around by herself and she was crying and hurt,” the woman said, her hands on her hips.
Violet must have thought I’d gone somewhere when she couldn’t see my face. I felt unbearably guilty at prioritizing a conversation with someone whose name I didn’t even know. A conversation long enough for Violet to fall off the cargo net or run into something or slip off a slide and not know where I was. She had bluish-green marks all up her legs and the side of her arm, but it wasn’t the bruises that upset me. It was the feeling that I’d put anything or anyone before her that stayed with me. I vowed never to do that again. After all, I knew how that felt.
ROBIN|PRESENT DAY