Chapter 8
THE SOUND OF the letterbox clanging open and shut tore Helena’s attention away from the ironing.
She was on the last of Noah’s work shirts, the new batch he had begrudgingly made her order, finishing with the collar, ironed from the inside out, just as he had shown her.
His method was very precise, and one she had got down to a fine art since taking on his ironing.
It was one of the many household chores she had become responsible for since giving up work.
She found ironing mind-numbingly boring and had once suggested that they paid someone else to do it.
Noah had looked at her as if she were stark raving mad even to suggest paying for something she could easily do herself.
It was at times like these she missed her financial independence the most, earning her own money to spend on whatever she chose, without having to consult anyone, safe in the knowledge that no one would be checking her bank statements in minute detail.
She hated having a budget to stick to. He put a certain amount into the house account which she had access to, and she was always careful not to overspend: the thought of having to deal with his reaction were she to ask for more money was all the incentive she needed.
Helena switched off the iron and took the finished shirts upstairs to hang in Noah’s wardrobe before they became creased or, worse, marked by Raffy’s sticky fingerprints when he came home from school.
As she came back downstairs she picked up the envelope that was resting on the doormat, intrigued.
It was addressed to her, handwritten in green ink in a swirling script.
She tore it open as she put the kettle on to make herself a cup of tea, wondering who it could possibly be from.
She had no friends, and definitely none that lived locally enough to hand deliver.
The neon pink card inside was an invitation from Nathalie, asking Raffy, Helena and Noah to attend Maisy’s birthday party in a few weekends’ time.
Helena rushed back to the door and flung it open to see if Nathalie was still visible, knowing she would be long gone but hoping to have the chance to chat to her a bit.
She was disproportionately excited to have been asked.
She wanted to get to know Nathalie a bit better.
She felt buoyed up by her decision to get to know her neighbours and resolved to tell Noah about the invitation, hoping that he would at least let her and Raffy go for once – there was no need for him to come with them, so hopefully the suggestion wouldn’t upset him.
That evening as they lay in bed reading Helena brought it up, aiming for a casual tone.
‘I forgot to mention, we got an invitation through the letterbox earlier.’
‘Oh yes?’ Noah raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow into a delicate arch, keeping his eyes fixed on his book. His stubble caught the light from the bedside table lamp, revealing a copper tinge to the dark hair that had grown back since his morning shave.
‘You know Nathalie, one of the village mums?’
‘Can’t say that I do.’
‘The one we saw on our walk the other day… she lives at Stable Cottages?’
‘Right.’
‘Anyway she’s asked us to go along to her daughter Maisy’s birthday party, they’re having a picnic.’
‘Sounds horrendous.’
‘It’s the Saturday after next… I’m sure Raffy would love it. I was thinking perhaps I could take him, if you don’t mind, and you could stay here if you don’t want to join? Or it might be fun for us all to go? We haven’t been to anything like that for ages.’
Noah sighed. ‘I cannot think of anything worse. And Raffy does not need to mix with any old Tom, Dick or Harry just because they happen to live in the same village, Helena.’
‘But she seems really nice—’
‘Enough.’ Noah slammed the book onto the duvet in front of him and turned to face her with an exasperated expression on his face. ‘I am not putting myself, or my son, through a godawful afternoon of small talk, E numbers and undoubtedly cheap wine on one of my few precious days off.’
Helena’s heart immediately started to race at his tone of voice.
God he could be infuriating. She wasn’t even asking him to go.
But there was no use pushing it. She so wanted to make some new friends and get out of the house, but she could hardly turn up without Raffy.
She sighed, under her breath for fear of bating Noah, remembering her promise to herself to keep the peace, and decided to let it go.
She would say no. No doubt Nathalie would think she was not only antisocial but also rude.
She couldn’t say they were away because they wouldn’t be, and anyone walking through the village would only have to pass their house and hear Raffy playing in the garden to know that they were in.
As she tried to go to sleep, she found herself fretting about the party, about what Nathalie might think of her.
Perhaps she could make sure Raffy played inside all afternoon, or maybe she could suggest a trip out to get them away from the village, perhaps they could go to the beach?
She was annoyed at herself for caring so much about what others thought of her.
But she was annoyed more with Noah for being so antisocial.
She understood that he worked hard and that his weekends were precious, but surely he could make an exception every once in a blue moon for god’s sake?