Chapter Nine
‘Morning!’ James says, layering crème fraiche and berry compote onto a stack of pancakes.
I can tell by the way he only briefly glances my way that he’s uncomfortable. At least, he is now. He was laughing when he was alone with this girl a moment ago. Before I interrupted them.
For a moment I think about saying something, asking Raven to cover up, but just as I start to part my lips, Skyla drags her feet through. Her green checked woven pyjamas are crumpled, her hair sticking out at all angles.
‘Morning,’ she yawns, reaching out for her favourite Friends mug with Central Perk printed across it. She pulls out a chair and sits at the island, smiling at James as he takes her mug over to the coffee machine.
‘Hey,’ Raven says, driving her head into Skyla’s shoulder, the way a cat would come up to their owner for love, and their intimacy surprises me.
It’s a friendly nudge, playful, nothing more, but I’m not used to this.
I don’t have experience with teenage girls’ friendships.
I don’t know what’s normal, what isn’t. They’ve only known each other a few days at the most, surely.
To already be having a sleepover and getting touchy is a bit much for me.
Skyla doesn’t bat an eyelid at Raven’s clothing, or lack thereof.
Is this just what teenage girls wear to bed at night these days?
The thought sickens me as I wonder what went on in James’s brain, seeing something so revealing on a body so perfect.
Too skinny, yes, but not saggy and lifeless like mine.
When Raven slips into the chair beside Skyla, I see it again.
The striking resemblance between them. I hadn’t been imagining it.
It almost makes me choke on a rasher of crispy bacon.
Even with Skyla looking like she’s risen from the dead, her blonde curls electrified around her, and Raven with her fresh face of make-up, protruding collarbones and inappropriate negligee, it’s there.
A likeness. I wonder if they see it too, if James is giving it any thought or if he’s already dismissed the idea that Raven could in fact be ours.
He’s so busy pouring the next batch of batter into the pan that I don’t think he is.
‘This is amazing, Mr Rushmore, thanks,’ Raven says, beaming at my husband as she bites a blueberry off the tip of her fork.
She bursts it open between her teeth, purple juice dribbling down her chin.
Her tongue slithers out of her mouth, and she licks it up without breaking eye contact with James, but he breaks hers, staring intently down at the batter bubbling in the pan.
I swallow, looking down at my plate. The grease from the bacon has slid into the crème fraiche, pooling at the surface.
‘Oh my God, Mum!’ Skyla gasps, making me jolt. ‘What’re we doing for your birthday tomorrow?’
‘The big five-oh!’ James raises his coffee cup at me, making my stomach curdle.
Fifty. When did that happen? I am very much still stuck in my thirties, waiting for my daughter to come home, but my body has carried on ageing and growing without me.
Raven retracts her tongue, her bony head swivelling as she looks between us. ‘Are you having a party? Skyla, why didn’t you tell me?’ she asks, a crackle of something in her tone. Anger? Whatever it is, it makes the skin on my arms pebble.
She drums her fingers against the tabletop so hard her chipped black nail polish starts dusting the glass.
‘Oh — I, I just didn’t,’ Skyla flounders. ‘I only just remembered.’
Her usually pale face is crimson, and the way she wants to please Raven makes my hackles rise.
‘Well!’ James says, obliviously interrupting. He slides a hot pink envelope across the glass that he seems to have produced from nowhere.
‘It’s not my birthday yet,’ I say, slicing it open with a manicured nail. I pull out a card that has ‘50 and Fabulous’ splashed across the front, and as I open it something falls down to my lap.
‘A voucher for House of Hare,’ I say, inspecting it. ‘Thank you. I’ve been needing to get these greys covered up!’ Out of the corner of my eye, I’m sure I catch Raven smirk.
‘I’ve made you an appointment for later this morning. Thought you deserve some time to yourself. That way you’ll look gorgeous for your birthday tomorrow,’ James says. ‘Not that you don’t already,’ he adds as I look up at him.
‘How thoughtful,’ I say, unsure if I’m being sarcastic or not.
It isn’t like James to do something like this.
I’m both pleasantly surprised and annoyed.
It’s a Saturday, and we always try to do something together on a Saturday, especially during the summer.
Especially this summer. It’s the last before Skyla may be going away to sixth-form college. It’s something we need to talk about.
‘What about tomorrow? What’re you doing then?’ Raven asks before knocking back the rest of her squash.
‘The birthday girl will have to find out when that time comes.’ James winks and I swear, I swear Raven actually rolls her eyes. ‘Skyla and I will keep ourselves busy today. I was thinking Sudeley Castle?’
Skyla’s eyes light up. ‘Yes!’ she breathes, and I know she’ll be excited to get back to a place so rich with Tudor history. I couldn’t believe her excitement when we’d first visited, and she’d got close to Catherine Parr’s tomb for the first time.
‘Aren’t you a little bored of castles and monarchs?’ Raven says, making us all turn to stare at her. The smile on James’s face falters.
‘No,’ Skyla says crisply, which both shocks me and makes me enormously proud. She’s sticking up for herself and what she loves, and that’s great.
‘You’re welcome to join us, Raven. Isn’t she, Dad?’
I try not to bristle, but the thought of Raven spending the day with Skyla and James without me being there irks me.
‘I’m not—’ James starts but Raven speaks over him.
‘That’d be great! Bet it’ll really help with my studying, too. I’ve been really struggling with history, but Skyla has been so helpful.’ She couldn’t sound sweeter if she tried, so sweet it’s almost sour, like a cheap chardonnay.
‘I better go get ready then.’ I try to look happy as I rise from the table and amble up the stairs.
* * *
Before we go, I venture into the spare room.
I’m surprised to find the bed made, not with as much precision as I make it, but she’s tried.
Making the bed is still something Skyla neglects to do more often than not, and such a simple act is enough to have me wondering if I should start to give Raven the benefit of the doubt.
But then I notice the bedside cabinet, the drawer slightly open. Stepping towards it, I peer inside.
At first, I don’t quite believe what I see.
I have to poke and prod at the ball wound up inside there, but when I do it unfurls and I rear back instantly, revolted.
A bloodied pad has been jammed in the corner, fresh, glistening and metallic.
Why is Raven hiding this here? Was she too embarrassed to chuck it in the guest bin?
Disgusted, I close the drawer too quickly. It slams, making me jump. If Raven plans on keeping that there, I’ll have to come back later for it, with a pair of rubber gloves. I start stripping the bed, wanting to clean these sheets, take Raven’s grease out of the pillowcases.
‘What’re you doing?’ Raven, standing in the doorway, says.
I get such a fright I clutch the duvet to my chest. ‘Changing the bed sheets,’ I say, turning to face her.
‘I’ve only slept in it one night.’ Her face is stony.
‘Beds need changing after guests sleep in them,’ I reply, wondering why this feels like an interrogation.
‘Oh!’ she laughs, but her face barely shifts. ‘Didn’t Skyla tell you? I’m staying for a few days, while my mum’s away.’