Chapter Two
After yoga, we decide to stop for a light lunch at a gorgeous little restaurant on the pier, Neptune’s Bounty. Since we’re all driving, the three of us opt for virgin mojitos and a trio of shrimp cocktails. The food is utterly delicious, the atmosphere is relaxed and fun, and the conversation flows as easily as our drinks.
But it’s over all too soon.
‘I better be off.’ Tamara comments offhandedly, already standing from her chair and pulling on her coat.
‘Oh, already?’ I whine jokingly, though my heart is hammering underneath my blouse. ‘What’s the rush?’
‘Mum’s coming round in a bit.’ She tosses her pashmina about her shoulders. ‘She’ll go spare if I keep her waiting.’
‘I’ve got to dash too,’ Rosalind says, though she makes no excuses.
‘Why not stay for one more drink?’ I proffer them the menu for a second look. ‘Go on, my treat.’
I must sound ever so needy, and I suppose I am, but I can’t bear the idea of going home, back to that big, empty house …
‘Sorry, Claire. Maybe next time?’
With a wane smile, I reluctantly agree, and before I know it, we’ve parted ways at the beachfront. I traipse back to the car alone, glancing pensively at the shimmery blue sea. I don’t go down to the beach that often anymore, not unless Penny fancies a visit, but Kat and I used to play there all the time as children. Kat would only paddle in the water, but I loved to swim. There was something about the cool ocean on my sun-baked skin, the feel of it slipping through my fingers and toes as I glided through, it gave me a wonderful sense of freedom, freedom I’ve never been able to find anywhere else since.
It doesn’t take long for me to drive across town, and soon enough, I’m pulling up to my house. It is an impressive abode if I do say so myself - five bedrooms, three bathrooms, mock Tudor exterior with classic flourishes. Truth be told, it’s my dream home, the sort of place I always hoped I’d raise a family.
What a pity that dreams can ever so slowly turn into nightmares, so slowly that you don’t even realise what’s happening before it’s too late.
Though I know it’ll need a wash, I leave my gym kit on the backseat of my car and shuffle inside. I head straight to the front room and make a beeline for the drinks cabinet. The wine bottle in my hand makes that glug glug sound as I pour a hefty amount into a glass and glance up at the silver clock on the mantle. Ten past two. Penny finishes school at three, and our au pair Elsa is going to pick her up. I’d have got her myself, but I thought I’d be out with Tamara and Rosalind for longer.
This isn’t a rare occurrence, more often than not, I find myself with nothing to do during the day. I spend half my life waiting for my daughter and husband to come home, it’s as if I don’t exist without their presence.
Sighing, I switch on the TV and slump down on the cream leather sofa, immersing myself in some silly soap to pass the time. I never used to be this way, I used to have gumption, passion, hobbies that weren’t in place just to take up time. But somehow, over the years, the old Claire has gotten lost, and I’m not sure how to help her find her way back.
The sound of the front door draws me from my daytime TV daze, and it’s then that I notice how the last hour has whizzed by. I gulp down the final dregs of wine and meet my daughter and Elsa in the entry hall.
‘Mummy, look at this picture I made!’ Penny flaps the piece of brightly coloured paper in front of my face. ‘Miss Rowan said we had to paint our family.’
‘Oh, it’s beautiful, darling.’ Frowning, I examine painting, stiff with thick paint. She’s placed herself in the middle between Kat and me, and she’s even painted Elsa by the front door. Though in reality they live across town, Grandma and Grandad are drawn next door, along with Gus the boxer dog and Betsy, my Mum’s bright green VW Beetle. ‘Where’s Daddy?’
‘He’s there, in the background.’ She points to a stick figure behind the house, holding what looks to be a golf club.
That figures.
‘It’s just lovely, sweetheart.’ Desperate to keep the false smile in place, I bite the inside of my cheeks, though that just makes my eyes water even more. ‘I’ll put it up on the fridge right this minute.’
*
By the time Jerry comes home from work, Penny is already tucked up in bed, fast asleep after story-time. Elsa offered to take care of bedtime for me, but I refused her help. I love reading to Penny at night, cuddling up beside her beneath her powder pink duvet, watching her gently drift off to sleep, it’s so special. One day, she’ll be too old for story-time, and until that day, I’m determined to make the most of these little moments together.
Perched on the couch, I watch my husband stroll into the living room, tie loosened and jacket shrugged off.
‘Evening, babe.’ Jerry yawns and scratches his head. ‘I’m starved. What’s for dinner?’
‘There’s a steak and some veggies under the grill.’ Coyly, I toy with the stem of my glass. ‘But first, I wanted to talk to you about the party.’
‘What party?’
I just about manage to conceal my rage enough to keep from bouncing my wine glass off his head. ‘Penny’s party. I’ve been talking about it for weeks.’
‘Ah, yes.’
I slip off the couch and coil my arms around his waist, hoping my affection will be enough to convince him. I can smell the beer on his breath, indicating that his tardiness wasn’t only due to working late, but I hold my tongue on a comment.
‘It would really mean a lot to her if her daddy was here this time. And … it would mean a lot to me.’
Jerry groans and rubs hard at his temples. ‘Claire, we’ve been over this. I’ve already got a commitment on that Sunday.’
Disappointed but not surprised, I drop my arms and scoff. ‘Golfing with your buddies?’
‘It’s not with my buddies, it’s with my colleagues. It’s important for business.
‘One Sunday off won’t hurt, and it’s your daughter’s birthday. How can you not care?’
‘For God’s sake, I only have one day a week for myself and forgive me if I’d rather spend it relaxing than surrounded by a bunch of screaming kids. Frankly, I think it’s incredibly manipulative of you to try and guilt-trip me when all I do is for you and Penny.’
‘Manipulative?’Though I fight to stay calm, my voice raises of its own accord. ‘I shouldn’t have to manipulate you to spend time with your child, Jerry. You should want to.’ You should want to spend time with me. My lips purse before I allow those words out, not daring to be vulnerable with him.
‘I refuse to let you drag me into another argument, Claire. I’ve just come in from work and all I want to do is take the weight off, yet you leap on me the moment I walk through the door.’ He storms away, calling out to our au pair as he heads up the stairs. ‘Elsa! Bring a whiskey to my study, will you? On the rocks. And my dinner.’
In an instant, the young blonde dashes through from the kitchen and over to Jerry’s drinks cabinet. We hired her six months ago, when I started my part-time job at my sister’s ice cream parlour. She came over from Sweden to travel, and ended up sticking around Sunny Shore Bay. She’s a lovely girl, eager to please, friendly, and Penny just adores her. But Jerry treats her like his own personal maid rather than his daughter’s baby-sitter. I’ve tried to tell him she’s not paid to do housework or any of the other tasks he sets her to, but he won’t listen.
As she passes, cup in hand, I touch her arm. ‘You don’t have to do that, Elsa,’ I tell her. ‘It’s not your job to fetch him drinks.’
Elsa smiles sweetly. ‘I really don’t mind, Mrs Jenson-Knight. Can I get you anything? Another glass of wine, perhaps?’
I glance over at my drained glass. I don’t even remember pouring myself a second one, but there’s the evidence, the glass stained blood red like some sort of crime scene.
Hugging myself tight, I shake my head. ‘I’d better not.’
So Elsa trots off upstairs, her kitten heels clicking on each step, and I’m on my own again. The house is full of people, yet I’m so alone.
I don’t even realise I’m crying until the tear rolls down my cheek, pooling in the corner of my mouth.