5
5
As soon as Ethan and Emma had gone, Fiona followed Rose into the kitchen. This house was the same as hers, but mirrored, everything in reverse. It was also cluttered, every surface piled high with the stuff of family life. Seeing unopened mail and loose pens and scattered crumbs on the counter made Fiona twitch.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Huh?’ She realised Rose was watching her carefully. She pulled out a smile. Enthusiastic. Happy to be here. She clapped her hands together. ‘What do you want to do?’
Rose shrugged. ‘My dad left money so we can order pizza.’
‘Food. Yes.’ She took the menu Rose was holding out. ‘It’s been a very long time since I had a pizza.’
‘Really? Why? Have you been on a diet?’
Fiona smirked. ‘Something like that. What does your brother like? A meat feast, I’m guessing. Or pepperoni?’
‘We’re vegetarian.’
‘Of course you are.’
‘And he’ll just want cheese and tomato. He’s boring like that.’
‘Is he? How about you?’
Rose scanned the menu quickly. ‘I’ll have the hot one. Extra chilis.’ She waited, as if daring Fiona to protest.
‘A good choice, madam.’ She called to place the order, then said, ‘Want to show me your room?’
Rose hesitated. ‘Why?’
‘I’m interested to see it, that’s all. But if you don’t want to ...’
‘No. It’s cool.’
Fiona followed Rose up the stairs. They reached the landing and Fiona could hear music thumping inside Dylan’s room, like rap music but not quite. Was it called grime? Fiona was completely out of touch, and had never been a big fan of music anyway. To her, music was nothing more than noise. She was the last person who would ever visit Ethan’s record shop, though she would never tell him that. In the past, she had tried to force herself to like music, to understand its appeal, until she realised that a lot of normal people weren’t into it either.
They went into Rose’s room and Fiona was almost floored by an unfamiliar sensation. What was it? Nostalgia? Homesickness? More likely it was simply a form of disorientation caused by familiarity. Because this room was so similar to Fiona’s own room when she was twelve years old, it was almost as if she’d stepped through a hole in time.
Yes, of course, this was a modern version. The computer on the desk was infinitely superior to the one Fiona had once owned, the curtains and bedding were modern, and it all had that twenty-first-century sheen. But Fiona recognised it instantly. The walls were painted white and the carpet was a neutral biscuit colour. Everything was neat and shelved in an orderly fashion. There were a couple of trophies on the bookshelves: a spelling bee and a maths cup, but nothing sporty. A few posters on the wall of an attractive young woman who Fiona guessed must be a pop star.
And there was one more thing that made Fiona feel like she was visiting her childhood bedroom. There in the corner, on the floor, was an old steamer trunk with several Barbie dolls on top.
‘You like Barbie?’
‘They’re old,’ Rose said quickly. Her cheeks had gone pink. ‘I’m going to get rid of them soon.’
‘Oh, that would be a shame.’ Fiona dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but I played with my Barbies far longer than everyone said I should.’
‘Really?’
‘Would I lie to you?’ She crossed the room. ‘Can I have a look?’
Tentatively, as if she thought Fiona might be taking the piss, Rose opened the trunk to reveal her collection of dolls and cars and ponies and all the accessories that came along with them.
The memories came rushing back. It was an unfamiliar sensation. Fiona lived in the present and the future. It was something Maisie had taught her: to have no regrets, but not to bathe in warm nostalgia either. Both were a waste of time.
Her Barbies, though. She had so enjoyed playing with them. Chopping off their hair, sometimes pulling off a limb. Holding them over a candle until her mum would shout and ask what was burning. Using them to act out her cruellest fantasies.
‘Wow, this is quite a collection,’ she said.
Rose had lifted out a Barbie with vivid auburn hair, dressed in a ballgown, all lace and frills. ‘This is my favourite,’ she said, her voice hushed. ‘She’s the ruler. She tells the others what to do.’
‘Oh, really? What kinds of things?’
Rose didn’t reply with words. Instead, she took out a blonde Barbie who was dressed in little shorts and a pink tank top. The hair had obviously been hacked at with scissors and the doll looked like she’d been to the world’s worst make-up artist. There were also dark circles on her arms and legs. Burn marks.
‘Oh my God,’ Fiona whispered.
Rose immediately said, ‘It was an accident. I didn’t mean—’
Fiona laid a hand on her arm. ‘No. It’s cool. You don’t need to explain.’ She wasn’t gasping because she was horrified. It was because it was, again, like staring into the past.
But Rose clearly felt uncomfortable. She scooped the toys up and dropped them back in the trunk.
‘I don’t want to play this. Not now.’
‘Of course.’ Fiona adopted her understanding smile. ‘What would you like to do instead?’
Rose had crossed the room to the window, drawn by noises from outside. Fiona went over to stand beside her. The window gave a view of the street, and the house where Albie and Eric lived.
They were out the front now, with their dad, a big bloke with a shiny head and inflated muscles that were on the verge of turning to fat. The three of them were standing around the dirt bike, and although she couldn’t hear him through the double glazing, he looked angry, like he was admonishing his sons. The younger one, Eric, hung his head, while Albie waved his arms like he was arguing back, which made the dad go even redder in the face.
Fiona glanced sideways at Rose, trying to read her reaction. Two days had passed since the incident in the fields, and Fiona wondered if Rose’s anger had dissipated. It didn’t appear to have. Her gaze was still intense, and there was something else. Anticipation – the hope that Albie and Eric were about to get torn a new one by their dad. But then the dad laughed, and he ruffled Eric’s hair.
The anticipation on Rose’s face turned to disappointment. Fiona could see the tension in her body, her desire for the boys to be punished unfulfilled, like a sneeze that wouldn’t come. Fiona watched as Rose walked over to one of her Barbies – a dark-haired variant who had been left out of the trunk – and stepped on it, slowly and deliberately, pressing down with all her strength and scrunching up her face as she did so. Then she exhaled, apparently feeling better.
Fiona knew exactly how Rose felt. Understood the release Rose would have experienced as she stomped on her doll. It filled Fiona with exhilaration.
They went downstairs and, not long after, the doorbell rang. The pizzas were here. Fiona opened the door. From across the street, the teenage morons and their dad looked over at her while the driver handed over the pizzas. He stood there for a moment, clearly waiting for a tip. Fiona closed the door in his face.
‘Bitch,’ he said, the word muffled but unmistakable.
Immediately, anger surged through her and she grabbed the handle, ready to pull it open, to go after him, make him apologise. At the very least, she could get him fired.
Or, better yet, she could hurt him.
She stopped herself, exhaling and closing her eyes, counting to five. Let it go , she told herself. Let this one go. Use your imagination instead.
She pictured him shrunken, crushed beneath her foot like a doll, and the pressure in her slowly ebbed away, though the euphoria she would have felt if she really had hurt him was absent.
Still, she felt calmer.
In the kitchen, where Rose was waiting, she set the boxes out and watched Rose help herself to several slices of the spicy pizza. Dylan came down and piled his plate high.
‘It’s fine for you to take it to your room if you want,’ Fiona said.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely.’ She exhibited what she thought was a conspiratorial smile and he grunted and exited. She was pleased. She wanted to spend more time alone with Rose.
‘Mum would never let me have this,’ Rose said after eating a slice that was smothered with red chilis. ‘She hates hot food and assumes everyone’s like her.’
‘But you’re not?’
‘I don’t know. Everyone says we look like each other.’
That was true. Emma and Rose had the same hair and eye colour, and their lips were an identical shape. Rose was less expressive, though. On the two occasions Fiona had met Emma, both brief, it had been easy to see the emotions right there on the surface of her face. She was an easy study, an open book, as was Dylan. Ethan was a little harder. He came across as placid and mild, but Fiona got the sense there was more going on underneath. Duck feet paddling furiously beneath a calm surface.
‘Do you want to watch a movie?’ Fiona asked, slipping Lola the dog a piece of crust as she spoke.
‘Sure. What, though?’
They went into the living room, Lola trotting after them, and Rose showed Fiona how to work the telly. Fiona flicked through the list of recently released films.
‘How about this one?’
It was a movie called M3GAN . The poster showed what appeared to be a life-size, realistic doll, gazing at a little girl around Rose’s age.
Rose’s eyes widened. ‘But that’s a horror movie.’
‘Is it?’ Horror was the only genre of film she really enjoyed. She particularly liked slasher movies, the old-school type in which a group of attractive teens were hunted down and butchered, one by one.
‘I’ve seen clips of it on TikTok,’ Rose said. ‘She does this dance ...’
‘Well, that sounds like fun. We can rent it through my account, and I won’t tell if you don’t.’
Rose’s eyes were even wider now. Shining with glee. It was the most kid-like Fiona had seen her. ‘My mum doesn’t let me watch scary movies. She says they’ll give me nightmares.’
‘And what do you think?’
‘I think I’ll be fine. I can handle it.’
‘Then let’s do it,’ Fiona said in a whisper.
The movie started pleasantly enough, with the tweenage protagonist’s parents dying in a car accident. The girl was then taken in by her aunt, who worked with AI toys. She brought home M3GAN, an experimental doll, who quickly formed a bond with the girl – and became homicidally protective of her. Fiona’s favourite part was when the doll killed a bully at some sort of outdoor activity centre, ripping off his ear and causing him to be hit by a truck. The neighbour’s dog was killed – Fiona’s least favourite part – and at one point M3GAN got hold of a nail gun. Mayhem ensued.
Fiona kept one eye on Rose throughout, gauging her reaction. The girl was fascinated – as hooked as she had been when watching the neighbours through her bedroom window. She winced when the dog died, but was clearly thrilled when the bully was killed. Her attention only appeared to flag towards the end, but the film was short, thankfully. Fiona found it impossible to concentrate for longer than ninety minutes, and Rose appeared to be the same.
At one point, Fiona sensed a presence in the doorway and turned to see lanky Dylan, hovering, clearly surprised to see what they were watching. She opened her mouth, intending to invite him to join them, to involve him in the conspiracy, but he was already gone.
‘What did you think?’ Fiona asked after the credits began to roll.
Rose blinked several times. ‘I was sad when M3GAN got ripped in half.’
‘Me too. But I think they’ll rebuild her for a second film, don’t you?’
A nod. ‘I didn’t like it when the dog died either.’ Lola the cockapoo was asleep on the carpet in front of the telly.
‘I agree. I hate seeing pets killed.’
‘Although . . .’
Fiona looked at Rose. ‘What?’
Rose hesitated, looked away.
‘Those German shepherds?’ Fiona began. ‘When they tried to attack Lola. Do you wish you had a doll like M3GAN to protect you?’
Rose looked back to her, thought about it. ‘That would be cool. Or actually ...’
‘Yes?’
‘I’d like to be M3GAN. Not a robot, but ...’ She trailed off.
‘I know what you mean. No one messes with her, do they?’ Fiona had that tingle beneath her skin. ‘It would have been great if we’d had a killer robot with us in the fields, wouldn’t it?’
Rose stared at the blank TV screen. ‘She could have blown up their stupid bike.’
‘Yes. Wouldn’t that have been awesome?’
‘Lola would have liked that.’
At the sound of her name, the dog lifted her head and hauled herself to her feet. Rose lifted her on to her lap.
‘Lola hates those dogs,’ Rose went on. ‘And those boys.’
This was interesting. Rose had switched over so she was ascribing her emotions to her pet, perhaps because she had started to find it too uncomfortable or intense to talk about her own feelings.
‘What about me?’ Fiona asked. ‘Does Lola like me?’
The dog was resting on Rose’s lap, snoozing again, her throat pressed against the girl’s thigh.
‘She does like you, yes.’ She said this while concentrating on the dog. Stroking her head. ‘And not only because you gave her a piece of pizza.’
‘That’s good. I like her too. And you can tell her that she doesn’t need a robot doll – or even a robot dog – to look out for her.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Not when I’m around.’
Ten o’clock came and Fiona said, ‘I think it must be bedtime.’
Rose didn’t protest. She went upstairs and changed into her pyjamas, then came out of her bedroom to clean her teeth.
‘I hope we can spend more time together over the summer,’ Fiona said, standing outside the open bathroom door.
Rose spat the toothpaste into the basin. ‘Me too. Lola would definitely like that.’
Their eyes met and held for a moment, and once more Fiona felt that frisson. The thrill of recognition. Rose felt it too, she was sure.
But it was too early to talk about it.
Rose went into her room and shut the door. Fiona hesitated outside Dylan’s room for a moment, listening. It was quiet inside, but surely he wouldn’t be asleep yet?
She looked down and saw lights flickering beneath the door, knocked gently, then went in without waiting for a response.
He was at a computer desk, playing some fast-moving game that appeared to be set on a spaceship. He had a headset on so the room was silent, but the light spilling in from the hallway made him spin round in his chair. He pulled his headset off.
‘Just wanted to check you’re okay,’ Fiona said.
He stared at her. ‘I’m fine.’
The room was dark, lit only by the computer monitor. He had a double bed with a black bedspread and there were posters of bands and more pop stars Fiona didn’t recognise on the walls. Some framed record covers and a turntable sitting on a chest of drawers. Like father, like son. The room smelled of teenage boy, the musty stink of hormones and cheap deodorant mixed with the lingering odour of the pizza she’d allowed him to bring up here.
She went closer to Dylan, peering at the screen. ‘What are you playing?’
‘Just a game.’ In the glow from the computer, she could have sworn he’d gone pink, and she could feel waves of awkwardness coming off him as she got closer.
There was a black box in the corner of the screen, messages scrolling upwards rapidly. One of them was asking him what was going on, why he wasn’t responding. Lots of question marks and confused emojis.
Dylan saw her looking and whirled back around to minimise the chat window, but it was too late. Fiona saw the message appear:
Hey, don’t tell me you hooked up with the hot babysitter LOLOLOLOL
He spluttered something unintelligible, and Fiona suppressed a genuine smile. So he thought she was hot, huh? That was very interesting.
‘Dylan,’ she said, enjoying the way he tensed, ‘I know you saw Rose and me watching that movie. I just wanted to reassure you that I didn’t know what it was about. And if I’d thought Rose was scared or disturbed I would have turned it off.’
He blinked at her. ‘Okay.’
‘I wouldn’t want your parents to be upset.’
She was standing very close to him, so close she could feel the heat coming off him. Could almost hear the blood pumping inside his body. She flicked her gaze towards the part of the screen where the chat box had been, hoping he would get the message. You tell your parents about the movie, I’ll tell them you called me the hot babysitter.
‘I’m not going to say anything,’ he said.
She nodded. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to your game. And your chat.’
‘Hold on,’ he said as she reached the door.
It took him several attempts to get the words out. ‘You’ve met Albie and Eric. Do you think they’ll actually come after us like they said they would?’
‘What do you think?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. I mean, they are psychos.’
‘No they’re not.’
He blinked at her, confused. She probably shouldn’t have said that.
‘You don’t need to worry,’ she said. ‘I have a feeling it’s all going to be fine.’
With Dylan’s door closed behind her, she hesitated in the hall, then – feeling confident neither of the kids would come out – she opened the door beside Rose’s room. It was Ethan and Emma’s bedroom.
She went in and had a quick look around. Ran her hand over the bedspread. Opened one of the bedside drawers and peeked inside, hoping to find something interesting like handcuffs or a dildo, but there was just some hand cream, a box of condoms still in its shrink-wrap, and a bottle full of loose change.
She went over to the dresser, where Emma kept her make-up. She picked up a lipstick, an expensive one, and slipped it into her pocket.
After that, she went back downstairs and sat on the sofa with the TV on, staring into space, like a robot in standby mode, until Ethan and Emma came home.