Chapter 2. Cait
CAIT
Cait swallowed a Xanax and fished her phone out of her tote while Poppy’s Furby prattled away beside her.
She had hoped her daughter would doze off once the plane hit cruising altitude, like her twin brother, Augustus, but Poppy was more interested in pushing every button on her seat and causing a mess with her sticker book and a bowl of warm rosemary almonds.
All Cait wanted was two minutes of peace to read Luke’s email, which had popped up on her phone during boarding, but the plane’s Wi-Fi connection was dismal, and she could only catch the subject line— this weekend —and the first few words of the email— call me when you’re settled …
“Mummy?” Poppy whispered.
Cait froze.
“Mummy!” Poppy nudged Cait’s arm. “Stop looking at your phone.”
Cait laid her phone on her lap. “Yes, darling?”
“I want to color.”
Coloring. Perfect. Cait searched Poppy’s backpack, relieved to find a Wizard of Oz coloring book and a box of crayons.
She was almost ready to forgive their nanny, Ruthie, who’d packed travel toys and snacks but forgotten Juju, Poppy’s beloved stuffed elephant, which led to a complete meltdown at Heathrow security.
Cait had bought the Furby at the airport gift shop despite—or maybe because of—Bram’s recent warning that if Cait kept rewarding Poppy’s tantrums, she would grow up to be just like her.
A year had passed since Bram had finally signed the divorce papers, but Cait still resented him for the hell he’d put her through to complete the process, not to mention the astonishing cost of the lawyers.
As Poppy flipped through the pages to find one to color, Cait picked up her phone and tried to retrieve the email.
“I want you to watch me,” Poppy said.
“Ooh,” Cait said. “Lovely.”
“You’re not looking.”
Cait put her phone down. “I am.”
“It’s Dorothy!” Poppy ripped the page out and handed it to Cait.
The entire picture was covered in Poppy’s new favorite color: fire-engine red. All of Dorothy, the sky, the yellow brick road—it looked like a massacre.
“This one’s for Grammy.” Poppy held up a picture of Munchkinland.
“She’ll love it,” Cait assured her. “And maybe you can use different colors? Like the sky is blue and the brick road is—”
Poppy grabbed her red crayon. “I know, but I like red.”
Cait buzzed the flight attendant to find out what was happening with the internet.
“It’s not working,” the flight attendant said.
Cait forced a smile. “Right. That’s why I’m asking. Is it going to be fixed?”
“Let me check.”
“Thanks,” Cait said, and ordered a Bulleit Rye for herself and an apple juice and pretzels for Poppy.
Over the last year, she’d traveled up to four nights a week while trying to make partner.
She’d watch mothers board the plane with children the same age as the twins and fight back tears because she missed them so much.
Now here they were beside her, and all she longed for was to be alone.
Being a single mother of twins still felt like a joke the universe was playing on her.
For sure it had cost her the partnership at McHenry & Adams, despite all those nights away and bringing in more clients than any other associate two years running.
“Look under the table,” she’d told Raymond and Will last week when they announced that Neil made partner over her.
“You’re all wearing the same shoes. I quit.
” She drank two glasses of Veuve Clicquot at the Wolseley across the street, then went for a long walk in Green Park.
She could not believe how many people were out and about, just strolling.
Don’t any of you have jobs? She was in no position to quit, really.
She had some savings, but the divorce had made a sizable dent.
She sat on a bench by a mother feeding her toddler apple slices.
Drinking champagne on an empty stomach gave her a feeling of lightness she suspected would dissipate as soon as the reality of what she’d done sank in, and she’d have to make plans for what was next.
But so far, it hadn’t. When she’d returned her laptop to the office yesterday, the morning was full of sunshine, and a feeling of liberation washed over her as she left for the last time.
“Here you go.”
Cait smiled as the flight attendant handed her their drinks.
She could almost see herself from another perspective.
A confident, independent mother sitting in first class with her beautiful children.
Bram may have been useless as a father, but at least he’d passed on his Dutch bone structure.
What a charmed life , she imagined the flight attendant thinking.
“Cheers,” she said, following the script, and clinked glasses with Poppy.
Poppy clutched the red crayon and made furious strokes across the page. Cait was about to show her, again, the correct way to hold a writing utensil, but she decided to let it go for now. Five years old is still a baby. Obviously she would be upset about Juju. Why was Cait always so hard on her?
But she knew why. Whereas Augustus was blessed with an easygoing temperament, Poppy was most like her. Not just hungry but bottomless.
Cait tried the Wi-Fi once more but couldn’t get a signal.
Frustrated, she set her phone on the tray table next to her drink, slid on her eye mask, and settled into the seat.
The Xanax and whiskey were beginning to work their magic, and all the sharp edges softened.
She wasn’t sure how long she was asleep before Poppy jolted her awake, standing in the aisle with tears streaming down her face.
Cait started to speak, but her words ran together in a garbled mess.
She struggled to sit up, gripping the armrests to orient herself. “What’s wrong?” she finally managed.
Poppy pouted. “I had to go to the loo. And you’re going to be very angry at me.”
Cait placed her hand on Poppy’s cheek and checked her pants. “Did you wee yourself?”
Poppy pulled away, frowning. “No!”
“What is it, then?” She strove to keep her words clear and distinct, regretting the whiskey.
Poppy leaned against the seat in front of her, and the man in it stirred.
“Sorry,” Cait said to him, and pulled Poppy onto her lap. “Why am I going to be angry?”
Poppy buried her face in her hands, and when Cait pried them away, Poppy mumbled something that sounded like disown .
“Darling.” Cait stifled a laugh. “Whatever it is, I’m not going to disown you.”
Poppy peeked her face out from behind her hands. “No. I dropped your phone. It’s in the toilet.”
Cait jerked up, and Poppy fell to the floor, where she let out a wail.
“Is everything okay?” the man asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Cait said.
She started to lift Poppy, but when Poppy flung herself back onto the floor, she kneeled and whispered into her ear, “Stand up and stop making a fuss or—”
“I want Juju!” Poppy sobbed.
More people turned to see what was happening, and the flight attendant appeared behind the curtain to ask if Poppy needed anything.
“She’s not hurt,” Cait said. “She’s just upset because… Can you watch them for a minute? I need to find my phone.”
The flight attendant explained that it was not her job to watch children, but Cait hurried past her, locating her phone in the bathroom, wedged in the toilet’s hole and soaking in some blue sludge.
She used a clump of paper towels to retrieve and dry it off.
Another flight attendant appeared at the door.
“Oh, dear,” she said.
Cait turned on her phone, and a streak of obnoxiously fluorescent lines blipped across the screen before it blacked out. “Do you have any dry rice?”
“We don’t have that.”
A lump formed in Cait’s throat as she wrapped her phone in fresh paper towels.
She couldn’t even remember the last time she had backed it up.
Panic rushed through her body, settling into a helpless despair for everything she had likely lost. All those precious photos she had taken of the twins in the Cotswolds for her holiday cards.
And what about the résumé she had updated in the Notes app and the contacts she’d been reaching out to for job leads? Had any of that been saved?
To make matters worse, she hadn’t gotten around to buying a new laptop, and now she had no private way to read Luke’s email or to get in touch with him during her visit to her parent’s house that weekend.
She and Luke had been trying to make plans to see each other, but nothing was definite yet, because she would have to sneak away from her family to make it happen.
She returned to her seat to find both kids sitting calmly and listening to audiobooks, which annoyed her nearly as much as it relieved her. The flight attendant patted Cait on the arm. “The internet’s back up!”
“Great,” Cait said. “Thanks.”
The flight attendant tried to clear what was left of the watery Bulliet Rye, but Cait retrieved it and drank it in one gulp.
“I’ll have another.” She handed her the empty glass.
What was she thinking, telling Ruthie she didn’t need her to come on the trip?
But even before quitting the firm, Cait worried about money.
Ruthie’s wages. The twins’ private school tuition, which Bram negotiated his way out of in the divorce settlement, because he made—what?
—ten thousand euros a year less than her.
The mortgage on the flat in Clapham. Even these three first-class tickets to New York had cost more than renting the house in the Cotswolds that October.
It wasn’t just the money. It was how Alice would judge her for bringing a nanny home.
Cait could hear the voice of her therapist, Dr. Wagner, inside her head. And what would that mean? For your sister to judge you like that?