Chapter 33
I stop on the bench outside the flower shop to gather myself. What the hell did I do to Mrs Ashford-Wells to deserve this? I didn’t reply to her emails in time. That’s it. I apologised, didn’t I? I can’t even remember. Did I apologise?
I rest my elbows on my knees and bury my face in my hands. I have to tell Holly before she finds out from someone else. I know this is a difficult time right now and you have a lot on your plate, but here’s this other thing.
‘Mrs Price? Are you okay?’
I look up. It’s Scarlett, in frayed denim shorts, white lace-up boots and a white crop top exposing her pale midriff with a ring in her belly button. We’re in the middle of November, for Christ’s sake. At least she’s wearing a denim jacket, even if it’s short and unbuttoned.
‘Hi, Scarlett.’ I stand and pull my bag further up my shoulder. ‘I’m all right, yes, of course. I was just thinking about what to make for dinner.’
‘Oh, okay,’ she says, seemingly perfectly happy with my explanation.
I take a breath. ‘And how are you, Scarlett? You’re okay after…? You know…’
She nods, pulling a strand of hair between her lips. She looks forlorn and sad. Her mascara is smudged and her pink lipstick looks garish.
‘Why aren’t you in school?’
She shrugs. ‘I didn’t feel like it.’
‘Right. And your parents are all right with that?’ I ask, head tilted.
Then I think, what am I doing? I need Scarlett on my side.
The last thing on earth I need is for her to tell her parents about the accident.
She opens her mouth to speak, but I raise a hand.
‘Never mind. Honestly I don’t care. Where are you off to? ’
‘Nowhere. Can I drop by later?’
‘What for?’
‘To see if Holly’s home? She said she wanted to hang out.’
‘No, Scarlett. You can’t. It’s not a good idea.’
She lets go of the strand of hair, her lips parting in shock.
‘No, no, it’s not that I don’t want you to come and hang out with Holly. It’s not that.’
But she thinks it’s exactly that. I can tell from the look of shame and dismay on her face as her eyes fill with tears. She turns on her heels without a word.
‘No! Scarlett, it’s not that! It’s just not a good time, that’s all!’ But Scarlett is already gone.
I turn away and walk home.
As I wait for Holly to return from school, I start to compose a text to Mrs Ashford-Wells: How dare you?
Who do you think you are? My husband is in Zurich.
No, delete. My husband is very ill. Delete that, too.
You know nothing. How dare you even mention my stepdaughter’s name?
I throw in legal threats, demands and expletives.
I delete it, draft another, delete that one and drop my head in my hands.
I want to shut this down. I can’t have her tell anyone else, post it somewhere else, or whatever.
I don’t even know why she thinks that email came from me – although it’s not too hard to guess. Teri would have made it look that way.
I can’t make a decision. I am paralysed by the fear that anything I do will make things worse.
I open my laptop and send Mike an email. I tell him that I need to discuss something concerning Mrs Ashford-Wells and that it’s urgent.
He replies immediately: I’ll see you at 8:15 tomorrow morning.
Holly comes home from school in a mood. She doesn’t say hello. Just throws her schoolbag on the floor, opens the fridge and pulls out a juice carton.
I am shocked by how she looks. ‘Oh, God. Holly.’
She turns to me. ‘What?’
She looks about twenty-five years old with her mascara, gold eyeshadow and blusher on her cheeks. It’s not as much as yesterday, but it’s still way, way too much.
I point to her face. ‘When did you do that?’
‘At lunchtime. Why?’
‘You know you can’t wear makeup to school.’
She looks at me like I’ve grown another head. ‘Are you kidding me right now? With everything that’s going on, you’re worried about me wearing makeup?’
‘I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Holly. Not under the circumstances.’
She grabs the TV remote and plonks herself on the couch. ‘What do you care?’
‘I don’t even know what that means. Of course I care.’
‘Yeah, right,’ she snorts. She turns on the TV and throws the remote on the coffee table. It’s a kid’s show, something with puppets and fake flowers. She doesn’t even attempt to change the channel. She just sits there glowering at the screen.
I pick up the remote and turn it off. Now she glowers at me.
‘You don’t want to draw attention to yourself, do you understand?’
‘Why?’
I raise my arms in disbelief. ‘For Christ’s sake! You know why! We have to stay cool, all right?’ Did I just say cool? ‘We don’t want people to ask questions about your dad.’
She throws me a look of disgust. ‘And whose fault is that?’
I snort. ‘It’s not mine, Holly.’
‘You said you’d take care of it!’ she shouts. ‘You’ve been saying you would take care of it for, like, two weeks!’
‘It hasn’t been that long,’ I say, as if that’s remotely relevant. I take a breath. ‘Just a few more days. I’ll take care of it on Saturday. We’ve discussed this.’
‘But you said that before! You should’ve done it before!’
‘I couldn’t! Did you not notice we had someone staying here? What did you expect me to do?’
‘I don’t know, Kate! Keep your promise?’
‘I am doing my very best,’ I hiss.
‘Yeah, well, your very best sucks.’
‘Holly, that’s enough.’
‘You keep coming up with excuses. You were quite happy Teri was here. I saw how you were with her. So don’t tell me it’s her fault that you didn’t keep your promise, because it’s not. It’s yours!’
‘It’s not my fault you killed your dad and then drove a car into a pedestrian!’
Holly gasps. She turns pale.
‘Oh, God, Holly. I’m sorry.’
Her face falls, her mouth trembles and tears roll down her cheeks.
I sit next to her. ‘Holly. I didn’t mean it.’
‘Yes you did.’ She stands, wiping her tears roughly with the back of her hands. ‘Screw you, Kate.’
‘Hey, come on, stop. I’m sorry.’
She turns around. ‘No! She’s right. You’re mean. And you’re horrible. And I hate you! And this is all your fault.’
‘Who’s right?’ I ask, even though I already know the answer.
‘I’m going to Teri’s.’
‘No! Do not go to Teri’s house.’
‘Why? What are you going to do about it?’
‘She’s not your friend.’
‘Yeah, actually, she is. It’s you who’s not my friend.’
‘Look at me, Holly.’ My face trembles with anger. ‘Do not go to Teri’s house. I forbid it.’
She hesitates, and I thank God that I still have a sliver of authority.
Her mouth turns down. ‘Why do you care? You’re leaving me.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not leaving you.’
She narrows her eyes at me. ‘You’re lying. She told me. You’ve been looking for jobs.’
‘She’s trying to drive a wedge between us, Holly. Please don’t let her!’
‘Why would she do that?’
‘Because she’s not a nice person. You have no idea what she’s like. You don’t know who she really is.’
‘She is a nice person!’ she shouts. ‘She’s my friend!’
‘Holly! That’s enough!’ I shout back, grabbing her arm and shaking it. ‘I said no! Do you understand me? You cannot go to her house, ever. Do I make myself clear? Go to your room. Do your homework. And take off that makeup!’
She runs up the stairs but stops halfway, turns and curls her top lip at me. ‘You know, you sound just like my dad.’