‘I’ll just be a minute.’ I slip out of the room; I don’t need to witness the hearty hellos. They need time alone with their dad anyway.
Catching my reflection in the curly gilt mirror, I pull a face at myself. I’m going to ask Matthew to move the bloody thing. I hate it. Better still, Kaye could take it with her now.
Mirror, mirror… Kaye is the fairest of them all, no doubt. Even if she does pay a fortune for her blonde.
I am going to be bolder. I must speak my mind more.
In our bedroom I sit at the dressing table, staring at myself. I look washed-out and pale – well it’s that time of year I suppose, where we all fade a bit.
If I look better, I’ll feel better perhaps. Fumbling for my blusher, I feel panic rise, dropping make-up brushes, knocking the key to the drawer onto the floor clumsily.
Without thinking, I pick it up and slip it into the lock.
The drawer is empty.
I scrabble my hand around it frantically – but there’s nothing in it. Nothing – apart from an old receipt for Opium perfume, bought at Heathrow airport, around two years ago. And a hairgrip with a little flower on it.
Someone – not me – someone has removed everything I put in here. All the evidence is gone.
Where the hell has it gone?
Mind racing, trying to think what to do for the best, I feel like I’m struggling to breathe – and then I think I might be about to have a panic attack. After Seaborne I had a couple of them. I had to learn to control my breathing and to… breathe deep, and to remember I’m still breathing, and…
I put my head between my knees, feeling like this is not reality, trying to remember to breathe, just breathe…
And I’m shocked when Matthew comes in. I sit up too quickly, shoving the drawer shut as he sidles up behind me and leans down.
‘Looking for something?’
‘No, sorry, I just felt a bit – faint for a minute.’ I feel light-headed and giddy and sick now; it’s the truth.
‘Well you smell gorgeous,’ he murmurs. ‘Are you coming down to say hello?’
He pulls me up and kisses me hard.
‘Matthew,’ I say, still light-headed, clinging onto him for literal support. ‘Kaye’s not here, is she?’
He says, ‘Shhh!’ and kisses me again, harder this time, and, despite myself, I find myself responding – until a small yap makes us both jump.
Luke is standing in the bedroom doorway, holding a tiny white puppy in his arms.
‘Oh – how adorable!’ I say, although the truth is I’m wary about dogs since Smudge. I was never that keen to be honest, having been badly bitten once by my Uncle Rog’s Alsatian, Kaiser. Rog had been on yet another bender and hadn’t fed or watered the poor animal for days. The smell of dog shit still reminds me of that horrible night.
But Smudge sneaked into my heart, despite my misgivings. What eight-year-old wouldn’t have loved him, with his liquid brown eyes and the wet nose he pushed hopefully into my hand? The truth was I needed someone to love – or someone to love me – unconditionally. Without wanting something back.
When Smudge died, just before my tenth birthday, I thought I would die too – I was so devastated.
‘He’s Scarlett’s,’ Luke says. ‘Yassine got him for her from his friend.’
‘Who the hell’s Yassine when he’s at home?’ Matthew looks thoroughly irritated.
‘Mum’s new boyfriend. He got scouted for West Ham when he was fifteen.’ Luke looks so excited that I smile, but Matthew’s face has set in that way it does whenever Kaye is mentioned. ‘He can do one hundred keepy-uppies in a go.’
‘Typical,’ Matthew mutters. He scratches the little dog’s fluffy head. ‘He’s cute – but we don’t want him here, mate. We’re not set up for dogs.’
‘But Mum’s going away for the weekend.’
‘She is, is she?’ Matthew looks even more pissed off.
‘Yeah, and she said we had to bring him.’ Is Luke’s lower lip trembling now? These children are so vulnerable it seems.
‘Oh we’ll manage, won’t we, Matt?’ I say quickly. ‘It’s okay, Luke.’
‘I suppose so.’ Matthew sighs again. ‘Well tell your sister that if he craps on the carpet, she’s cleaning it up.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘We can take him to the woods with us. What’s his name?’ I tickle his chin – but I won’t look into his eyes. That was my mistake with Smudge.
‘Justin,’ Luke says.
‘As in time?’ Matthew jokes. ‘Ridiculous name for a dog.’
‘No.’ Luke rolls his eyes at his father’s stupidity. ‘As in Bieber.’
12 p.m.
* * *
We wrap up warm and take the dog on the walk. He doesn’t have a lead, so we stop at the pet shop on the high street, and the twins choose a purple suede one, as well as a dog bed and some toys.