Chapter 4
FOUR
At thirteen, Mollie was already an outline of the woman she would become. All of the softness in her body and face had been replaced with curves and angles which made her look older than she was. For a while now, Erica had noticed the attention her daughter drew from strangers – particularly men – and had experienced a violent desire to shield her from their gaze, keep her young and innocent and uninhibited by the approval of others.
In the kitchen doorway, she was taken aback by how beautiful she was. Her warm blonde hair, still wet from the shower, had been combed back from her face, giving even more emphasis to her cheekbones, her large green eyes, the pinkness of her freshly scrubbed cheeks. Just looking at her made Erica proud. ‘Hi, sweetheart.’
Mollie had the luck to have inherited Andrew’s long eyelashes and she looked up and through them at Erica from her bowed head. Erica knew this expression of old. The conflict on her face between anger and tears. Trying to be grown up. Fighting to hold it all in. Her face crumpled and she fell, sobbing, into Erica’s arms.
She held her only daughter tightly, pressing her cheek into the top of Mollie’s head, waiting for the sobs to stop their juddering through her body. If she could’ve picked her up and held her like a baby, she would have. But she wasn’t a baby and Erica couldn’t make this go away like a bad dream. ‘Shall we go and sit on the sofa and you can tell me what happened?’
Behind her, she could sense Andrew’s judgement at what he saw as her being ‘too soft’ on the children. She could only imagine what he’d already said to Mollie about the theft. But she knew that this was so out of character for their daughter that there must be some mistake.
Nothing had changed in the living room in the last three months, although there was an air of it being unused. Holiday photographs of the children on the cherry-wood sideboard still smiled at her as she followed Mollie across the wooden floor. Even the mustard cushions in various prints, which Andrew had thought ridiculous and unnecessary on their overstuffed navy sofa, were still there. Mollie clutched one of these to her chest – plain side towards her body, large blooms facing away – as she eyed Erica from the corner of the sofa.
‘What’s going on, sweetheart?’
Whatever need had thrown Mollie into Erica’s arms had clearly been sated and their brief moment of reconciliation seemed to be over. Mollie pulled her legs up in front of her and held her knees wrapped in her arms like a line of defence. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
Coming from behind, Andrew’s voice made Erica jump. ‘You don’t have a choice in that, Mollie. You could be prosecuted for stealing. You have to tell us what happened. Did someone tell you to do this? Are you being bullied?’
Each question seemed to make Mollie recoil further into herself. Andrew treating her like a suspect in his interview room really wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Erica gave him a tight smile. ‘Maybe we should give Mollie a chance to talk?’
He threw up his hands in the why-do-I-bother mime that she knew of old. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen.’
It was a relief when he left, but she still needed to get Mollie to open up. ‘Right, your dad’s not here. It’s just you and me, Mollie. What is it? What’s happening?’
If she’d thought Andrew’s exit would help, she was wrong. If anything, Mollie shut down even further. ‘Nothing. I just took it. That’s all.’
Over the years, when she was teaching, Erica had had to speak to many students about their behaviour while attempting to get to the bottom of what had gone on. But this was like trying to talk to a brick wall. ‘You have to see our confusion, Mollie. This is just not like you. You’re not a thief.’
Mollie’s eyes flashed with something she didn’t recognise. ‘How would you know? You’re not here. How would you know who I am?’
The sharpness of her words cut through Erica like a knife. If only she knew how much of a wrench it had been for Erica to live separately from her. How much it had hurt in the last couple of weeks when Mollie had told her not to bother to come, that she was too busy to see her, or to see her own twin brother. ‘I’m here as much as I can be. It’s difficult when I’m over an hour away. You wanted to stay at the school. You can’t commute from where I am. We went through this months ago.’
Guilt chewed at her even as she reminded her daughter that it’d been her choice to stay at the house. Because she shouldn’t have had to make that choice at thirteen, should she? And, in truth, there’d been an element of relief when Mollie opted to stay with Andrew. Mainly, but not exclusively, because it would’ve been a tight squeeze for the three of them in that tiny one- bedroom apartment. She’d have made it work, though. It really had been Mollie’s choice to stay where her friends were.
But this explanation seemed only to make Mollie angrier. ‘Well, you can’t really have a go at me for getting suspended when you’re suspended from the school too. When do you have to go in for your panel? Maybe they could do me at the same time.’
The nasty edge to Mollie’s tone nearly made Erica gasp. This was not her daughter. This was anger talking. Hurt. Fear. But why? ‘My panel hearing is on Thursday, but this is hardly the same thing, Mollie.’
Instead of replying, Mollie’s scowl deepened and darkened.
She’d have to try a different tack. ‘What did you need the money for, then? Is there something you want? You know you can ask me and Dad if you need anything.’
With Ben’s fees and two properties to pay for, money wasn’t exactly flowing through their bank accounts. But they would always find funds if the children needed something. Even if it meant that her coat was coming apart at the seams and she hadn’t had a new pair of shoes in about three years.
Mollie’s face was a blank page. ‘It’s fine. I don’t need anything.’
Fine . Was there a more frustrating word in the English language? Fine meant not good enough or you’re wrong or I’m ending this conversation now . And it meant nothing. It told her nothing.
It was so much easier when Mollie was younger. The constant chatter on the walk home from school, the nights she’d sneak into Erica’s bed with her latest book, the mornings spent swinging her legs at the breakfast bar, alternating questions with mouthfuls of Cheerios.
‘You have to talk to me, sweetheart. My brain is coming up with lots of explanations but I haven’t got a clue which one is right. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.’
That clench in Mollie’s jaw mirrored her father’s. ‘I didn’t ask for your help.’
Where had this aggression come from? When she’d seen her last, Mollie had seemed perfectly happy. Admittedly, they’d only had four hours together and Mollie had spent half of that replying to text messages from her friends, but there’d been no clue that this was going to happen.
How she envied the women who had lots of time to hang out with their daughters. Social media was full of their coffee dates and shopping trips and sometimes even ‘girls only’ weekends away. She’d tried to make the time to do these things with Mollie but, with Benjamin’s needs and Andrew’s job, it never seemed to work out. Since the move, she was concerned because they wouldn’t even get their snatches of time together at home. Which is why she’d started these Sunday visits without Benjamin. So that she and Mollie could get some time on their own together. Mollie got to see Ben once a week when Andrew would visit him. Although that was in the evening and not ideal. Originally, Andrew had suggested that that could be an evening where Erica got a break to do something for herself, but so far she’d stayed at the house when they were there, not wanting to waste an opportunity to see her daughter a little more.
‘Mollie, I don’t want to get cross, but I’m exasperated. You’ve been suspended from school. You’ve been caught stealing. Five minutes ago you were in floods of tears and now you’re looking at me as if I’m the enemy. I don’t know what to do here.’
‘There’s nothing you can do. Nothing. This is pointless. You wouldn’t understand, anyway. Just forget it. This has got nothing to do with you.’
The force of her anger made Erica’s head spin. What wouldn’t she understand? What was the ‘this’ that had nothing to do with her?
Before she could even formulate a response in her head, her phone rang in her pocket and, as a reflex, she pulled it out to check the caller. It was her home number. It must be Jade. ‘I just need to get this. Two minutes.’
Move over Helen of Troy: the look on Mollie’s face could’ve sunk a thousand ships. Erica knew she was angry at the interruption, but it wasn’t as if she was actually telling her anything.
‘Hello? Jade?’
‘Hi, Erica. Sorry to interrupt your time with Mollie. I’m sure I’m using my father’s eyes as my mum would say, but I can’t find Ben’s cup and I’m making his lunch.’
Jade had worked with them long enough to know that Ben would flatly refuse to drink anything unless it was in his lime-green cup with a straw. Erica’s brother had sent it over from the States and – despite him going back to the same store and her frequent scouring of the internet – they hadn’t been able to source another just like it. ‘Have you looked in the dishwasher?’
‘Yes, sorry. Already looked there. And the cupboards and his room. Any other ideas? I mean, he doesn’t take it out to the car, does he?’
Erica’s heart sank. No. Usually he did not take it out to the car for reasons just like this. But yesterday, he’d wanted to finish his drink and they’d needed to get to the supermarket before it closed so she’d let him. ‘Dammit. I think it’s on my back seat.’
‘Oh, okay. I’ll try and persuade him that another cup will work.’
Jade knew as well as she did that Benjamin would flatly refuse. Which meant that he wouldn’t have anything to drink until she got home with his cup later. Not only that. He wouldn’t eat his lunch either. Which meant he wouldn’t have his medication. ‘It’s okay. I’ll come back.’
‘No, it’s fine.’ Jade was such a brilliant help. Her calm practicality a wonder in a girl who was half Erica’s age. ‘I’m here with him. I don’t want you to cut your day short. We’ll figure it out together.’
But Erica knew that it wasn’t as easy as that. It might escalate if Ben got upset. And she couldn’t risk losing another carer or she wouldn’t be able to come out alone ever again. ‘It’s my fault for taking the cup. It’s okay. Honestly. I’ll be there in an hour.’
She ended the call and faced Mollie, whose anger had hardened in her face. ‘You’re going already?’
Erica’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach at the tone of her voice. ‘I’m so sorry, love. You heard the conversation. I need to get back to your brother. Come with me. We can talk in the car on the way there. You can see your brother. And, as you haven’t got school in the morning, why don’t you stay overnight with me? We can talk about all of this. I want to understand.’
Getting to her feet, Mollie threw the cushion on the sofa. ‘No, thanks. It’s fine. Just go. Your favourite child needs you.’