School Run (22 page)

‘If Mummy’s late,’ she said to Beth, ‘you can do the three-legged race with me. That’s if they still have it. Sports day is meant to be non-competitive nowadays, isn’t it? All team work!’

She laughed, trying to make Derek smile. Anything to make life normal again.

‘Probably.’ Derek nodded uncertainly. ‘Now, come on, girls, you’d better get going. Had something to eat, have you?’

‘No,’ said Lucy, coming down the stairs. ‘We usually have toast but you didn’t make any.’

Derek looked puzzled. ‘Do you? Didn’t I?’ He glanced at Harriet ruefully. ‘Pippa’s still asleep. She didn’t get much rest last night and I didn’t want to wake her.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Harriet briskly, relieved to be presented with a situation she could sort out. ‘There’s a packet of cereal bars in the car for emergencies. They can have one of those and get a drink at school.’

‘Cereal bars!’ Lucy’s eyes lit up. ‘Mummy never lets us have those. Yummy!’

‘Well, don’t tell her or she might be cross with me,’ joked Harriet, desperate to lighten the tension. ‘That reminds me. I usually make a cake for sports day.’

‘You can’t this year,’ said Beth. ‘We all got a note – didn’t Bruce and Kate give it to you? No one’s allowed to bring home-made cakes any more in case someone gets food poisoning. They have to be proper ones, from shops.’

‘How ridiculous! Right, then, off we go. Into the car, everyone.’

She waited until the girls had heaved their sports bags into the boot and climbed into the back with Kate. Bruce, as usual, had hogged the front passenger seat, to which he insisted he was entitled as he was the eldest. She touched Derek’s arm. ‘I hope it goes all right. What time’s the appointment?’

‘Ten o’clock.’ He glanced up the stairs. ‘I’d better wake her soon.’

‘Tell Pippa I’ll ring when I’m back from the airport – Charlie’s coming home a day early.’

‘I will.’

‘I’m sure everything will be all right,’ she added lamely.

‘Yes.’ Derek stood at the top of the steps, his hands in his dressing gown pockets. He looked like a small boy. ‘I hope so.’

The traffic was appalling on the way to the airport, and by the time Harriet had found a parking space at Arrivals, she was running ten minutes late – and she’d wanted to get there cool and unflustered. She flicked open the mirror on the sun visor and checked her foundation, hastily dabbed on a bit more (dripping some on the upholstery), then touched up her mascara.

She got out of the car and headed inside the airport. There were so many people at the barrier that it was hard to see if Charlie had already come through. Harriet scanned the crowd: mothers with babies, young women with briefcases, a frail old man, a couple (newlyweds?) who were almost joined at the hip, oblivious of the world around them. And then, in the middle of them all, Charlie.

She almost didn’t recognise him. He seemed taller (impossible) and thinner (suited him). The beard was gone and his jacket was new. Harriet felt a pang. Since they’d been married he’d never bought a jacket without her before. And how was it possible that she had almost not recognised her own husband? He’d only been gone two months.

‘Harriet!’ He walked towards her, a calm professional.

For a second, Harriet thought he was going to shake her hand. Then he bent down and his lips brushed her cheek. She felt a stab of panic. Was that all, after such a long absence? ‘How was the flight?’ she asked.

‘Fine, thank you.’ His eyes swept over her. ‘You look brown. Has the weather been good?’

Why were they talking about the
weather
?

‘I’ve been gardening. Everything’s growing so much at the moment.’ She glanced down at his luggage on the trolley. ‘I’m parked on the second level. Sorry I couldn’t get any nearer.’

A flash of annoyance crossed his face. ‘Never mind.’

They walked in silence towards the car park. He hadn’t commented on her hair, which looked nice, even if she said it herself, Harriet thought. So did her nails, although she was beginning to feel that the spray-on tan, which the hair salon had persuaded her to have, seemed tacky. Why had she lied that she was brown from the garden? Why not just tell him she’d spent all day at the salon, beautifying herself because she wanted him to feel he’d missed her?

She helped him lift the suitcase into the boot, then handed him the keys. Charlie hated being driven: he needed to be in control. He looked at the car critically. ‘Bit grubby, isn’t it? And is that a rip on the seat?’

She’d spent ages vacuuming it that morning but she hadn’t noticed that. ‘It was easier to use this car when you were away because it’s got a bigger boot for the children’s clobber.’

Charlie’s lips tightened. ‘It’s too good for the school run.’ He started the car and drove out of the airport towards the main road. ‘Everything been all right?’

She took a deep breath. If he wanted to talk banalities, she’d go along with it. ‘Well, quite a lot has happened. Kate did reasonably well in her exams.’

‘And Bruce?’

‘Not too bad,’ she lied.

Charlie’s mouth tightened again.

‘Pippa’s not very well,’ she continued. ‘She’s had a bit of a scare – a lump scare – and she’s seeing the consultant today.’

‘I’m sorry.’

His detached tone prickled. Why couldn’t he show more concern? He knew how close she and Pippa were.

‘It’s sports day this afternoon. The children were hoping you’d be able to come.’

‘I’m shattered, Harriet. I’ve just had a long flight.’

‘But I promised them.’

‘You shouldn’t have. I ought to go into the office, anyway.’

‘Charlie, you’ve been away for two months! The kids have missed you. I’ve missed you. Don’t you think you owe it to them – to us – to go to sports day?’

He looked at her coolly. As though she had spoken out of turn. ‘All right, Harriet. If it means that much, I will. But I need to make some work calls first. You must understand that.’

Harriet willed herself not to rise to the bait. Charlie was always implying that because she didn’t work, she didn’t understand the pressures of the real world. What he didn’t understand, she told herself, was the pressure of bringing up children to become decent human beings. ‘Fair enough,’ she said, trying to sound steady. ‘But we also have to think about ourselves. We need to talk, Charlie, before you start ringing the office.’

‘Talk?’

‘Yes.’ Harriet was surprised at her own bravery. ‘We need to talk about us.’

He sighed. ‘Harriet. I’m very tired. Maybe we do need to talk but not now.’

They were almost silent during the journey home. By the time they got back, Harriet had worked herself up into such a nervous state that she now wished she hadn’t mentioned talking.

It was much safer to concentrate on unpacking his case and asking him what he wanted for lunch. ‘Nothing, thanks. I ate on the plane.’

‘Cup of tea, then?’

‘Thanks.’

He’s talking to me as though I’m a stranger, she thought, as she tried to busy herself with making a pot while her stomach rolled on emptiness and panic. She’d not been able to handle more than a cup of tea for breakfast, and although she felt hungry now she couldn’t eat anything. Not with the uncertainty.

She handed him tea in his Dad mug (from last Father’s Day) as he sat in his usual chair by the fireplace. ‘By the way, I went to the bank yesterday and they wouldn’t let me take any money out. It was really embarrassing. They said your money hadn’t been paid in.’

‘I know. We had an e-mail about it. It’s going to be a bit late this month, thanks to some new accounting system, but it should be there by now.’

‘You could have told me.’

‘I wasn’t here.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘You’ve moved the sofa.’

‘I thought it looked better there.’

He frowned. ‘I preferred it where it was. And what happened to the cabinet in the bathroom? There are marks on the wall around it.’

‘It fell off but I put it back.’

‘Well, you didn’t do a very good job. I’ll have to paint the wall this weekend.’

This was crazy. She had to know the score or she’d go mad.

‘Charlie.’

‘Yes?’

Harriet’s right leg began to shake. She tried to stop it but it refused to listen. ‘Do you . . . what . . .’ She took a deep breath. ‘Do you want to stay with us?’

He nodded slowly. ‘Yes.’

The relief almost drowned her. Thank God for the children’s sake, if not her own. ‘Then why did you go?’

His voice was even and businesslike. ‘I thought it would help us to have a break.’

‘And did it help you? Because it was bloody hard work for me. The kids always wanting to know when you were coming back. Me having to cope with the day-to-day problems and emergencies like the boiler.’

‘I’m sorry, but it was also important for my job.’ He put down his cup. ‘It would have been nice if you had come out to see me. We need time together, more time for ourselves, away from the children.’

Harriet was almost speechless. ‘The whole point was to give you thinking time away from me! And, anyway, who would have looked after the children?’

‘Your mother.’

‘But they’re too young – I can’t leave them.’

He smiled, in the way he always did when he was about to win a point. ‘You always put the children first, don’t you?’

I can’t win, she thought. I just can’t win. Harriet looked at the man sitting across the table from her. Did she want to spend more time with him? ‘And what about that woman?’

‘Which woman?’

Harriet’s voice shook. ‘You know perfectly well.’

‘I’ve told you. She meant nothing.’

Harriet closed her eyes. Suddenly she was aware of Charlie’s hand on her shoulder. ‘I want to try again, Harry, but you’ve got to do your bit too.’

‘I don’t know how much more I can do,’ she said miserably.

‘Just try to think of my needs as well as the children’s and your own,’ said Charlie, briskly. ‘I work very hard for you all, you know. I deserve a bit more consideration.’

No. She wouldn’t say anything. Not now. He was tired from the trip and he’d say things he might not mean and then he might leave again. She didn’t want that: she didn’t want her children to go through what she had when her father had gone. They were too young. Maybe in a few years, if life became absolutely unbearable, but not now. As Pippa had said the other day, children needed both parents, even in this day and age.

Charlie stood up. ‘Come on, then. If we’re going to go, we might as well get on with it.’

‘Go?’

‘Sports day. I thought you said the children were expecting us. Get a grip, Harriet. I’m the one who’s had a long flight, not you.’

She jumped up. ‘Give me two minutes. I’ve just got to get Bruce’s sports kit out of the tumble dryer.’

Charlie frowned. ‘Shouldn’t he have it with him?’

‘We were running late this morning,’ said Harriet tersely. ‘It’s not easy, you know.’

Charlie snorted. ‘If you had my kind of job, Harriet, you’d appreciate being at home. I wish I had more time for myself.’

Here we go again. How could she have forgotten the ‘You don’t know how lucky you are’ and the ‘If you had a proper job . . .’? But this time, instead of feeling inadequate and stupid, she heard a small, insistent voice inside her head. Monica’s. A voice that told her she had a choice: that she didn’t have to put up with this any more. If – and this was the big one – she decided not to.

23

EVIE

‘It’s coming up to eight but first the weather. Cool to start off with, followed by scattered showers and light winds . . .’

Eight o’clock? It couldn’t be! She shouldn’t have taken that sleeping tablet . . . Evie stretched out her hand to the left side of the bed. Empty. Cold. Where
was
he? She’d known, with some terrible premonition, when the girls had rung last night to say Robin had forgotten – again – to pick them up, that this time something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

She shouldn’t have phoned him about the money. She should have waited until she got home when she could look at him, eyeball to eyeball. But when she’d arrived, the house had been empty. At first she had assumed Robin had taken the girls somewhere after school. But then there had been the message on the answerphone from Sally, saying they’d had a panicky call from Leonora because no one had picked them up. Martine had been out so Sally had had to send the chauffeur. Evie had had to make up some story about Robin being called to an interview.

Staggering to the bathroom (the tablet was still making her feel unsteady), she almost collided with Natalie coming out.

‘Where’s Dad? Hasn’t he come back yet?’

Evie was too woozy to lie convincingly. ‘No.’

The girl frowned at her. ‘Then where is he?’

‘I don’t know.’