School Run (38 page)

‘
What?
’ Her beautiful eyes widened in alarm.

God, what had he started? ‘Julie, I’m sorry. She ended it all with pills.’

‘Not an overdose?’

He moved towards her. ‘I’m sorry. So sorry. And it was all my fault . . .’

43

EVIE

Ring, Ring.

For a moment Evie thought it was the radio alarm, then realised it was the doorbell. Who could it be at this hour? What was it? Seven. Ridiculous! It wasn’t even a school morning.

It rang again and she heard someone open it. The girls must have woken up early.

‘Dad! It’s Dad!’

She ran downstairs. Robin was standing in the hall, unshaven, hair slicked back, looking at her uncertainly. ‘Are you all right? I heard about the school on the news. Is everyone OK?’

‘We’re fine.’ She pulled him to her and he held her tightly. His face rubbed against hers and she could feel the stubble.

He spoke into her shoulder, voice muffled: ‘Evie, I’m sorry. But it’s all right now. I’ve got a job. In the States. We can get out there today and start again.’

She pushed him away, staring at him. ‘You went abroad? Without telling us?’

Robin looked shamefaced. ‘You’d have tried to stop me and then I’d have failed again. But I didn’t. Not this time.’

His face shone, like Jack’s when he was excited. He looked exhausted and the skin below his eyes was puffy.

‘I’ve got a fantastic job, Evie. Someone in Westport who owes me a favour. You’ll like it over there. So will the kids. We can have a new start and no one will find us.’

‘Why didn’t you leave a message?’ Evie heard herself sounding cold and calm. ‘We were terrified. We thought you’d hurt yourself or someone had hurt you.’

Robin appeared cross now. ‘I needed time to sort it out so I could come back and tell you it was settled. And I did try to ring but you didn’t pick up.’

She grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to look into her eyes. ‘Get real, Robin. You borrow God knows how much money from your old firm to do something that I don’t know about—’

‘It was to pay for that skiiing holiday for the kids,’ he said.

‘And the rest?’

‘I gave it to Rachel. For the girls again. She said she was skint and didn’t want to ask Chris. Then I borrowed a bit more to invest. Someone gave me this tip.’ His face fell. ‘But it didn’t pay off.’

Evie could have shaken him. ‘You always know someone who owes you a favour but it never turns out as it should, does it? So then you try to pay the money back by borrowing from a loan shark charging the most ridiculous amount of interest.’

Robin’s brow darkened. ‘How do you know all this?’

‘Because you’re not very organised, are you? You’d left all the paperwork in the back of your car.’

He scowled. ‘It was the safest place I could think of. Well, since we’re having some home truths here, Evie, let me tell you a few.’ His eyes glistened with anger. ‘You’ve made me feel totally inadequate. There you are, with your fantastic job, telling me I mustn’t spend so much money in the supermarket or that I ought to do this and that with Jack. Then you criticise the girls, and when I try to talk to you about all this, you’re always in some bloody meeting. No wonder I needed space.’

‘I know.’

‘What?’

‘You’re right. I’ve worked it all out. But we’re both to blame, Robin. It’s not just me.’

His face lightened. ‘Then you’ll give up your job and come to Westport? But I warn you, I’m going to ask Rachel if the girls can come with us for the holidays.’

‘No.’

He rubbed his eyes. ‘I knew it.’

‘Yes to the girls. No to Westport. We’re staying here, Robin, and facing the music. I’m not running away from anyone.’

‘But the loan company – you don’t understand. I borrowed money and then I invested again and lost and then—’

‘I do understand. My dad also knew someone who knew someone in that bloody company you borrowed from. They’ve given us time to pay it back.’

‘How?’

‘I’m not sure. We need to think about it. But you’ve got to promise me something, Robin. You can’t go shooting off like that again. I know it isn’t easy with me working . . . Actually, I’m not any more but that’s another story.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘They fired me. Don’t look like that. They’ve given me money – enough to get by on for a while. Look, just come in and have a wash. We’ve missed you.’

Robin clung to her, kissing her neck the way he used to. Nuzzling her so she began to melt. ‘You mean that?’

‘Yes.’ She felt weak all over at his touch. God, it was good to have him home.

Robin buried his face in her hair. ‘We’ve done it wrong, Evie, but it’s not too late, is it?’

She thought of what might have happened to Jack. She’d tell him, but not yet. It was all too much, too soon. ‘No, it’s not too late.’

She could almost feel the relief washing through him.

‘You’re a girl in a million, Evie Brookes,’ he said. ‘A girl in a million.’

‘Girl?’ said Natalie, sharply. ‘Isn’t she a bit old for that?’

They both looked at her.

‘Where’ve you been?’

‘Listening behind the door, as any self-respecting teenager would.’

‘Oh, God,’ said Robin.

‘It’s OK, Dad. We’ve got gamblers in our class too. That’s what investing is, isn’t it? We’ve had a talk on it at school. I’ve got a helpline number if you’re interested.’ She came up to Robin, pushing Evie gently out of the way. ‘Welcome home, Dad. I knew you’d come back. Want to see our reports? They’re brilliant. Evie said so.’

NICK

And now a very special love song, dedicated to Marlene by her husband Joe as a belated birthday present. Marlene, Joe says he loves you very much. In fact, he couldn’t live without you.’

Nick kept the radio on while he was searching. He needed the haunting pain of the song – one that had always sent shivers down his spine – to remind him how far he had come. Juliana was dead. But he still needed to live. And not just for their daughter’s sake.

‘No, Dad,’ Julie had said, when he’d told her the truth about her mother’s death. ‘It wasn’t your fault. She had ambition and it killed her. When you’re obsessed like that, it takes you over. I’m ambitious too, but not like that. Poor Mum. And poor you.’

They’d had an emotional few hours, saying all the things they should have said years ago. In the afternoon she’d had her driving lesson – which gave Nick time to do what he had put off for too long. He sifted through Juliana’s drawers, which still smelt of her signature scent. Every now and then he was distracted by things that brought her back to him with such intensity he could hardly breathe. The black stockings he had given her the Christmas before she was ill. The first Mothering Sunday card Julie had made at school.
‘To my mummy,’
it had said.

He put it to one side.

Then he found what he’d been looking for. The piece of paper she had left by the pills. At the time he had hidden it, scared in case someone else had found and misinterpreted it. He had pushed it to the bottom of a drawer, hoping never to see it again but also aware that perhaps he should keep it: this last word from the woman he had loved so much. The writing was shaky, indicating how weak she had been, and it was hard to make out the words. ‘I should have stopped.’

He had always assumed she was talking about the anorexia but now he wasn’t so sure, so he went on searching for clues. He’d exhausted the drawers but maybe there was something in the bookcase, in the files they had kept on housekeeping matters. And then at the bottom, labelled ‘Miscellaneous’, he finally found what he was looking for.

A garage bill. For a repair to the car. Dated a few days before she’d died. Damage to the front bumper. At the time, it had seemed unimportant. His wife was ill. What did it matter if the car had been dented?

I hit a bollard. Stop fussing, Nick. You’ve done it
.

He could hear her saying it, see her, clear as day. He’d remembered wondering how she’d had the strength to get out of bed that morning.

I needed to get out, Nick. You can’t keep me cooped up here. I’m not ill. I’m fat. Gross. And it’s all your fault. You got me pregnant and now my body’s never going to be the same. I hate you, Nick, hate you. Look at these magazines. Can you see me in them? No. And do you know why? Because everyone else is prettier and thinner. I’m finished, Nick. Finished
.

He had tried to comfort her, feeling her ribs poking sharply against him. If he had known then what he knew now he would have understood why she was so hysterical.

She had killed a child. Had she known she’d killed him? Or had she driven off, hoping desperately he was all right?
It’s only a dent, Nick. Stop fussing. I hit a bollard, that’s all.

How much damage would a child’s body inflict? A small dent? A big one? Early, Harriet had said. The accident had been early in the day. Juliana had got up early towards the end. Somehow, despite that terrible lack of energy, she had insisted on driving herself to the newsagent at seven thirty, and returned with piles of the glossy magazines that tortured her because she was no longer in them.

Why hadn’t she stopped? She would have been terrified. Scared witless. Unable to live with it.

Should he tell someone what he thought? Who? Certainly not Julie. It would destroy her, especially now that she was turning the corner. Instinctively he felt Harriet might understand. But that wouldn’t solve anything. He had to put that poor mother’s mind at rest, if that was what you could call it. She deserved to know that the driver who killed – might have killed – her son was dead too.

He leafed through the telephone book for the number he needed, then picked up the phone.

MARTINE

‘More coffee, love?’

‘Non, merci
.’

I have had enough. I will sit here, writing my diary and waiting in this funny little shop where they play this strange radio station that speaks so fast. My beau comes to pick me up shortly. My cases are sorted. He bought them for me from his trip. They are pigskin. Rouge. Very stylish, yes?

Dear Diary,

I am glad to go. But I have some nice things. I am a great admirer of Sally’s clothes. And it is not wise of Simon to abandon money in his dressing room.

I am glad I will not be here tomorrow when the newspapers come out. Sally will not admire it either. ‘Fifty Things You Did Not Know About Simon and Sally’. That is what the reporter is going to title it. I could only think of thirty-two but she can think of more.

I can see mon chéri now coming in through the door. He is smiling but he does not look as I remembered. His hair, he is missing at the front. Goodbye, Simon and Sally. Goodbye, Josh and Alice. I am going home, at last.

SATURDAY P.M.

‘Why has Daddy gone away again? He’s only just got back.’

‘It was us, wasn’t it? I told Bruce not to paint his room. I tried to clear it up before Dad knocked over the tin. But he should have been looking where he was going, shouldn’t he? That’s what he’s always telling us.’

‘Maybe he ought to meditate. It might make him feel better. Our new teacher has taught us. Look, you close your eyes like this and go “One”. You sing it like a note. Go on, try!’

‘You’re not going out again, are you, Dad?’

‘Nattie’s right, Dad. You can’t – even if Benjamin does want to see you. Anyway, Mum’s coming tomorrow. Didn’t Evie tell you? With Chris. We haven’t met him before and we’ve got to be really polite. In your dreams.’

‘Feeling better now, Mum? Aunt Susie says we’ve got to look after you and that she can’t go until you’re better. But you are, aren’t you? When’s she going? She keeps hogging Sky and then she tells us we watch too much television. She’ll get hyper like Bruce if she carries on sitting in front of the box. Can’t you tell her?
Please
.’

‘My instructor says I can put in for my test now. He says I’m ready. Mum was my age when she passed, wasn’t she?’

‘I’m g-g-glad Farty Marty’s gone. I don’t want another French person. Can we have a Croatian n-nanny n-n-next, like Hugo? She lets him skateboard in the kitchen when she’s snogging her boyfriend upstairs.’

‘Yes, Mandy, I am bringing someone actually. I think you’ll like her, although you might be a bit surprised. Yes. A her. You met her ages ago but she’s changed. Eleven thirty at St Nicholas’s? We’ll be there.’

SUNDAY

44