Chapter Thirteen #3
Harper soon slinks into our circle, and with her encouragement we’re pushed towards doing a round of shots.
While she pours me a tumbler, I try to keep a steady eye on Skyla.
It isn’t a large party, just our closest friends and family, yet I manage to lose Skyla and Raven to the crowd between drinks.
Telling myself she’s okay, she’s here somewhere close by, I try to focus on my friends and on having a good time.
‘To us barren bunch!’ Carol, probably my closest friend, raises her J?gerbomb and we all clink our glasses together again.
I grimace at the liquorice-like aftertaste, already queasy, but I keep drinking, losing count of how many I have.
I lose track of time too, catching up with Carol and the other ladies.
I’ve so needed this. Living further away from them I don’t get to see them nearly as much as I’d like and at times it is very isolating — because I never did make new friends when we relocated.
It was too hard when the world knew who I am.
I couldn’t join local groups, take up a new arty hobby or take up lawn bowling in the area.
My only real interaction waited until my infertility support meetups.
‘When’s the next meeting?’ Harper asks, looking between us through those absurdly long eyelashes she gets done every two weeks.
Harper only comes to some of the support group meetups now, and it’s usually to promote something she’s trying to push out into the world.
A new video she’s uploaded, a product she’s being paid to promote.
Once she had her boys she didn’t really need to come to the group sessions any more — it didn’t apply to her any longer — but sometimes she still appears, as though wanting to make sure no one will forget her.
‘Next week,’ Carol says, laconically. She’s never hidden her dislike for Harper.
‘I’ll try my best to be there!’ Harper beams, no doubt thinking we’d all miss her presence tremendously if she couldn’t make it.
I can tell some of the women want to ask her why she wants to come, why she feels the need to be there when she has two healthy sons now.
Attention, attention, attention. She’s addicted to it.
By the time I notice the setting sun, a knot in my chest tightens.
I haven’t seen Skyla for a while. Weaving past everyone, I turn in all directions.
Despite the giant rose gold ‘fifty’ balloon bobbing up and down by the drinks table, this is Skyla’s party too.
She wouldn’t have left, surely — and yet she’s nowhere in sight.
Alfie jabs his wet nose into my calf, and from his heavy eyes I know he can sense my unease.
‘Where is she, Alf?’ I murmur. He plods along after me as I do a circuit of the grounds.
I’m wandering beneath the awning of branches in the orchard, ducking from the polished apples hanging overhead when Alfie starts to groan, a deep unhappy hum.
‘What’s wrong, boy?’ I ask, turning, my fingers grazing his velvety soft ears for comfort.
The party is ramping up in volume under the flow of alcohol, guests shouting over the thumping of the music, and it’s turning dark fast. My contacts are drying out, and whether it’s that making my vision blur or the booze, I can’t decide.
I step hesitantly over rotten apples, fallen to the ground.
A quiet snigger catches my attention, and I whip my head around, searching the rows of trees.
Someone is out here. I can feel them close by even though I can’t see them.
My heartrate spikes at the sound of a voice from somewhere in the darkness.
‘Hello, Bella,’ Raven says, coming out from the shadows.
‘Raven.’ I stop, Alfie pressing himself up against me defensively.
For a while, all she does is glower at me, her body hunched over in that corpse-like way that puts me on edge.
‘Why’re you out here?’ I ask. ‘Where’s Skyla?’ Already I’m frightened to death that this strange girl has done something to my daughter. I wouldn’t put it past her.
‘Why didn’t you keep me safe?’ she hisses under her breath, lurching towards me.
Her jerky movements make me step back, into the trees.
Twigs and branches dig into my spine, and as I cry out in pain, Alfie barks frantically, warning her away, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
She’s spent enough time at our house and around us now to know that Alfie is all bark and no bite, nothing more than a lapdog.
He’s as far from a guard dog as you can get, in spite of his size.
‘What did you say?’ I whisper, but my words feel liquid.
I’m swaying, the alcohol dulling my usual sharpness.
I’ve had a lot to drink, far more than I usually have.
My head is swirling, but I didn’t mishear her, I’m sure I didn’t.
I look at her arms, mottled in deep blue bruises.
Is she blaming me for leaving her at that caravan?
‘I said, why didn’t you keep me safe . . . Mummy?’
My stomach caves in, my body doubling over. For a moment, I forget to breathe.
‘Mum?’ Skyla’s voice calls. ‘There you are!’ She’s carrying two polystyrene cups in her hand and passes one to Raven.
When Skyla turns to face me, Raven’s finger raises. She touches it to her lips.
‘Shh.’ When she unpuckers her mouth, it curls into a smile, her eyes glinting in the moonlight, a look that only I can see.