Chapter Twenty Two
The alarm goes off at ten to eight, rudely shattering my fragile dreams. After shaking Penny awake for school, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and traipse into the bathroom to take a shower.
I used to have an ensuite in my family home, with gleaming white subway tiles, golden taps and a huge claw-foot bath. Mia’s bathroom is much more modest, with its leaky shower and fraying towels, but it gets you clean, and that’s what matters. Though I’ve never considered myself a snob, I have always enjoyed the finer things in life, and living at Mia’s two-bedroom semi has been a bit of a wake-up call for me. When I finally get a place of my own, it will likely be even smaller than this, and I’ve got to get used to that. The thing of it is, I thought I couldn’t handle having my luxuries ripped away, but in truth, it’s taught me what’s really important. I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I’d be happy with a little flat just big enough for Penny and I, because we’d have all we need, and it would be mine.
Feeling refreshed, I pad through to the spare room, expecting to find Penny back in bed, but to my surprise, she’s wrapped up in her dressing gown, writing fervently at the vanity table.
‘What are you scribbling away at, missy?’ I ask sternly. ‘I hope that’s not your homework.’
‘No, I did that all last night. This is my message in a bottle,’ Penny tells me excitedly.
‘Ooh, am I allowed to read it yet?’
Hastily, she covers the paper with both hands. ‘No, Mummy! It’s private.’
I cluck my tongue, but I don’t press the matter. After all, she’s reaching that age where she’s striving for independence, so I can’t fault her for wanting to keep things to herself. Perhaps I should think about getting her a little diary, with a lock and key so she can record all her secret thoughts in one place.
‘Well, put it away for now, we’ve got to get to school.’
‘Can we throw it into the sea on the way?’
I don’t fancy contributing to the plastic pollution of the ocean, so I tell her we’ll drop it in the bottle bank this morning. She’s not pleased with that answer, but I promise her that the ‘magic’ bank will send her message just as well as the sea would. Sulkily, she agrees, and after we give her bottle a special send off, I leave her at the school gates.
After waving her off, I dither over what to do with my day off. Mia’s away for a couple of nights, James treated her to a romantic getaway in a posh bed-and-breakfast, so it’ll just be me at home. I don’t fancy going back to an empty house, so I amble around the town, basking in the pocket of sunshine peeking through the grey clouds overhead. The British springtime is so unreliable, one minute it feels like you’re in Barbados (okay, slight exaggeration, but it does get pretty hot!), the next, it’s pouring down with rain.
I spend a few hours just roaming the streets, up and down the cobbled roads with no particular destination in mind. I stroll past the yoga studio, and a peculiar pain tugs at my chest. I used to go there once a week to meet up with Rosalind and Tamara, and then we’d have matcha lattes afterwards and gossip about life. Turning away, I hurry along, not wishing to remember those times.
I pass my old hairdresser, Marie Rose Hair Design, and squint through the glass at the gilded marble interior. I can’t help but envy the clientèle sitting in their leather salon chairs, foils gleaming on their heads. Once upon a time, I was one of those women, sipping on a cappuccino while enjoying a deep scalp massage.Marie Rose herself was a bit of a snooty cow, but she knew how to do a good balayage.
Somehow I’ve unintentionally taken myself on a tour of my old life, like I’ve subconsciously set out to torture myself. It has me spiralling backwards - I was fine this morning, sure everything was going to work out fine, but now I’m questioning … did I really make the right decision? Was it wrong to stay in Sunny Shore Bay when Jerry needed to move for work? Should I have sucked it up and stood by my man, as Mum suggested? Have I ruined my daughter’s life?
It’s all too much, and I dash down the street, away from all the too-raw memories. I’m careful to avoid the historical society’s HQ, which means I can’t even grab a coffee from the Spicy Bean, as it’s right in the middle of the square. Since our slightly awkward encounter at Petals, I’ve received a couple of text messages from Noah, but I’ve not had the courage to reply, and every time I walk by the historical information building, I hurry past with my collar pulled up.
My finger hovers his name in my phone contact list. I guess I could just call him, for a friendly chat? But the truth is, as much as I can deny it to myself, I know where that ‘friendly chat’ will lead. And I want it to lead to that place, every time I picture Noah in my mind’s eye, I wish more than anything we could go there together. And yet, I fear it, too.
Still, I suppose I could make some sort of gesture, something to show I’m not mad or upset with him.
Resolute in my decision, I pop to the shops and pick up a six-pack of dandelion and burdock, remembering it’s Noah’s favourite drink, along with a big box of Malteasers.
When I make my way to the lighthouse, I’m slightly disappointed to find it empty. I gaze out of the large window, out to the rocks in the ocean where the siren is said to bask. Though I know Kat’s right, it’s all a silly story, I still find myself quivering, nearly expecting to hear the haunting siren song myself.
Trembling, I yank my eyes away from the view and I place the cans of pop and chocolate carefully on top of the desk. With nothing to hand but a chewed biro and an old receipt, I pen a quick message:
Thought you might need a bit of a pick-me-up while you research.
Can’t wait to read the book!
Claire x
Happy with the impromptu display of treats, I slip out of the lighthouse and into the gentle breeze of the early afternoon, feeling pretty pleased with myself. But by the time I make it to the promenade, I begin to wonder whether it was such a good idea after all. A sickly, wave of hot humiliation hits me square in the face - Noah is going to think I’m such an idiot, leaving behind such a goofy message. Groaning, I knuckle my temples. Why couldn’t I have just simply sent a text instead?
I dither in the street, considering whether I’ve got time to go back and remove the little gifts, but it’s nearly three o’clock, and I’m already running a little late to get Penny.
A mad dash across town (and a slightly sprained ankle when I trip over my shoelace) later, I’m at the school gates with the rest of the parents, though unlike me, none of them are huffing and puffing like a locomotive. I glance to my left side and my brain short-circuits when I realise the woman next to me in a mink coat that’s too warm for the season is Tamara. She raises her carefully threaded eyebrows and her painted lips stretch into the facade of a smile. I’m the first to break the awkward silence.
‘Hi, Tamara.’
‘Ooh, hello.’ She feigns surprise, as if she hadn’t noticed me standing right next to her. Squinting, she blinks at me. ‘Is that blouse from Cassi Queen?’
‘Yeah, it is actually.’ I smooth down the buttery silk. ‘But you won’t be able to get it, I’m afraid. This is a sample from the new collection. Perks of the job, I guess.’
More blinking, as if she’s got something stuck in her eye. ‘Job?’
‘Mm-hm. I’m Cassandra Evans’ Junior Assistant.’
The look on Tamara’s face is absolutely priceless. The kids spill out of the classroom and I take Penny’s hand, leaving my ex-friend in a satisfying state of shock.
Skipping at my side, Penny fills me in on the day’s events, from learning about the ancient Egyptians in history to making up a brand new game with Chloe on the playground. I listen intently and respond when necessary, relieved to see my little girl is happy, all things considered.
We turn down Mia’s street and my heart skips a beat or two. A shiny red BMW is parked outside the house, and it’s disturbingly familiar.
It can’t be.
My gut lurches as we draw closer to the house, and when the driver’s side door opens and someone steps out, I have to choke back the vomit that threatens to colour the pavement.
‘Look, Mummy!’ Penny bounces up and down on her heels, her voice breathless with excitement. ‘It’s Daddy!’