We All Live Here

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-six

Lila

If having Bill live with them as a fully functioning adult had been a little challenging at times, living with Bill post-heart-attack is definitely tougher than Lila had anticipated. He is anxious about everything, what he eats, the state of the house, his medications, and whether he is taking them in the right order (he is: Lila has bought a selection of those days-of-the-week pill pockets from the local pharmacy and Penelope double-checks them every day). He is little trouble in that he asks for nothing, and does his best to help around the house, but Lila feels the cloud of anxiety settle over her home, like a permanent fog. If she offers to do things for him, he resists firmly, insisting that he is perfectly capable, thank you. But if she cleans the kitchen he cannot help but tidy up after her, and if she tells him to stop and rest, he sits uncomfortably, radiating discontent, or unable to help himself issuing instructions that she has missed a bit, or that Truant is hoovering up something unmentionable on the floor. She has done her best to warn the girls that Bill requires peace and quiet, but there is only so far that you can restrict an eight-year-old with a penchant for YouTube videos and loud rap music, and a teenage girl who believes all doors must be closed emphatically. Bill bears these incursions into what he clearly believes should be silence with a pained expression, or suggests to Penelope that they move upstairs to his bedroom “so I can hear myself think.”

Penelope is equally anxious, fluttering around him, trying to anticipate his needs, while apologizing to Lila repeatedly for being in the way. The girls, having greeted Bill’s homecoming with heartfelt, emotional hugs and kisses, have promptly forgotten it all, accepting his presence with the same benign lack of interest that they always had.

She suspects increasingly that they miss Gene. They do not talk about him, but he had a way of being around them that seemed to accept their chaos, their sudden emotions, and absorb it all. She hates to admit it, but there was also a cheeriness that is now absent in their domestic setting, and worsened by Bill’s stay in hospital. Eleanor is busy at work again, and without her, Jensen, and Gene, the house is sorely missing the upbeat energy that they had brought with them.

Dan is still spending most of his time at the hospital. Apparently Marja will probably stay in until the birth. In the short phone calls he has made to tell her, he has sounded more stressed than Lila is. Lila feels it is probably beyond her to express sympathy for his predicament. She simply calls the girls downstairs to speak to him and tries not to note that their conversations with him last barely minutes too.

She cannot blame Bill for any of it—he has suffered a near-death experience—but juggling the needs of three very different generations is exhausting, and after a matter of days, Lila is beginning to flag.

Jensen has not responded to her letter. She hadn’t really expected him to. She had sent a text thanking him again for his kindness, and for helping with the tree, but she daren’t say anything beyond that because of his new girlfriend. She tells herself to let it go. To put him, as she has put Gabriel Mallory, into the past. It turns out that knowing something is entirely your fault does not necessarily help you get over it.

···

Lila had promised Violet that she would pick her up from school that afternoon. Things at home have been so unsettled that it feels necessary to impose some order, some attempt at routine. She checks that Penelope can stay with Bill while she walks the short distance to school, trying to remember the things she has promised to buy on the way home: limescale remover (Bill apparently feels the bathroom has deteriorated in his absence), mackerel for heart health (the girls are going to love that), and a copy of the Radio Times , now that Bill has apparently adapted to daytime television (he enjoys the antiques shows and the general-knowledge quizzes, harrumphs at the panelists and criticizes their grammar). As she walks, she thinks about Jessie. She has not heard from her since that day in the art shop, and hopes she’s okay. She would have liked to text her but she suspects further contact will be too weird after the circumstances of their meeting. Lila may well be someone that Jessie would prefer to forget. Lila sighs a little at the thought of yet more awkwardness at the school gates and feels another surge of irritation at Gabriel Mallory’s ability to create problems for other people.

There is a queue at the supermarket and she is a little late so the playground is already busy with parents and children when she arrives. She stands on tiptoe, trying to spot Violet in the throng of brightly colored puffy coats and lunch boxes. She spies a couple of her classmates, then sees Violet at the far end of the playground, playing on the equipment, her turquoise and black anorak standing out above the metal bars. She begins to make her way through the playground, waving a hand and calling her name above the noise.

“I’m surprised you have the gall to show your face.”

It takes Lila a second to realize that this is directed at her. She turns, and there is Philippa Graham, her mouth set in a thin line of judgment, her chin lifted. “I’m sorry?”

“Everyone else at this school does their bit. But not you. Oh, no. You just swan around behaving like you’re somehow above it all, no matter the cost to everybody else.”

Lila stops and blinks. “What are you talking about?”

“The costumes? The one thing you were asked to do? For the children’s production? If you really couldn’t manage them you could have told someone. Then one of us could have picked up the slack although, frankly, most of us are already covering several bases—as well as our regular reading slots with the year ones.”

Oh, God. The bloody costumes.

“So now the production is going to be a laughing stock. All because you simply couldn’t be bothered.”

Lila opens her mouth to speak—even though she has nothing useful to say—but a male voice cuts in. “Back off, Philippa.”

She spins round. Dan is standing behind her. At his hip stands Hugo, his coat buttoned under his chin, holding Dan’s hand tightly.

“You have no idea what Lila has been dealing with. Her father had a massive heart attack. Lila has been in hospital with him, while trying to look after our girls. Sorting out costumes for a primary-school play would, I imagine, have been pretty low on her list of priorities.”

Philippa looks awkward. She glances from Dan to Lila. “Well, I didn’t know.”

“Quite. You didn’t know. You know very little about anyone’s lives beyond what they choose to tell you. So, instead of attacking Lila, maybe a starting point might have been to ask if there was anything you could do to help. Anyway. As I understand it there are now other arrangements in place.”

“Well, I had heard something.” Philippa is the kind of woman who hates the suggestion that there is any element of school life she might not be aware of.

“In which case there is no need to attack my ex-wife, is there?” Dan’s face is drawn, dark shadows circling his eyes. He looks exhausted.

Philippa’s mouth opens and closes. She turns to look for support from other mothers, but they have drifted swiftly away. She softens her tone. “I just think it would have been helpful if we had known that Lila couldn’t manage the costumes. I don’t believe that the proposed alternatives can be—”

“It’s a primary-school production of Peter Pan , for Chrissake, not Uncle Vanya at the Old Vic. I genuinely don’t think any parent watching is going to give two shits what their kids are wearing.” Clearly exasperated, Dan turns from Philippa’s startled expression and touches Lila’s arm. They walk a couple of steps away, feeling her gaze burning into them.

“How is he?” says Dan.

Lila is still stunned by his intervention, and it takes her a moment to gather her thoughts. “Uh—okay. I mean, not okay. But I think he’s good for now.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to pick up the slack with the girls. It’s been—” He shakes his head and lets out a long breath before he speaks again. “This thing with the placenta. They are literally trying to keep the baby inside her day to day just to give it…to give it a chance.”

Lila stares at him, at the tension in his jaw as he speaks, at Hugo’s wide eyes as he gazes up at them both. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “I didn’t know it was so serious.”

“Yeah. Well. It didn’t feel like information you needed.”

They stand beside each other, in silence, this man she had once loved, and the child of his lover. She feels a strange sensation, unfamiliar and half forgotten. She thinks, with surprise, it might be sympathy. And then Hugo tugs at Dan’s hand. “Can we go home?”

Dan’s eyes slide toward Lila’s, perhaps braced for her reaction to that word, and when there is none, he nods, his mouth compressed. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure.” He forces his face into a smile that isn’t really a smile, and starts to move away. “Give Bill my love, will you?” he says, turning his head, as he leaves.

She nods. “Thank you,” she says suddenly. “For sticking up for me, I mean.”

He lifts his shoulders in a brief shrug that could mean any number of things.

“I—I hope she’s okay,” Lila says. “And the baby.”

He nods again, not speaking, and then he and Hugo make their way slowly toward the school gates.