‘Is your mommy home?’ Rita asked, surprised.
‘Yes, in bed,’ piped Julia.
Rita tapped on the bedroom door and peeked into the room. Lorraine was lying face down, her head beneath a pillow. ‘Mrs Page? Is it okay if I shoot off now?’
Lorraine eased away the pillow. ‘Yeah, yeah, thanks, Rita.’
Julia climbed up on the bed. She had already delved into her toy box, bringing out puzzles and something that made a pinging sound that cut like a knife through Lorraine’s blistering headache.
‘Mommy, can we go to see the puppets?’
‘Mommy, I want pee-pee.’ Sally pulled at the duvet.
‘Mommy, can we go to see the puppets?’ Julia repeated, as Lorraine slowly sat up.
‘Mummy, I want pee-pee now.’
Lorraine had to hold onto the edge of the bedside table to stand upright. She took her younger daughter into the bathroom and helped her up onto the toilet. ‘I not got my panties down,’ the little girl howled.
After a good belt of vodka she found in the freezer, she was not so jumpy and strung out. Once she’d settled the girls in front of the TV, Lorraine had another few nips of vodka with three aspirin so she could bathe and clean herself up. By the time Mike returned from his office, the kitchen was in order, their bed remade and Lorraine, with her face made up, looked presentable. Wearing a long cotton wrap, she was checking the fridge for what she could cook for dinner when she heard the front door slam and Mike’s usual, ‘Hi, honey, I’m home.’ He dumped his briefcase and, smiling, came to stand behind her, slipping his arms around her and cupping her breasts in his hands.
‘We got time for a quick one before they come?’
Lorraine eased away from him. ‘Who?’
He returned to the table and picked up his briefcase. ‘Donny and Tina Patterson. I said we’d eat here and then go to the movie. Rita said she could babysit.’
She closed her eyes.
‘You haven’t forgotten, have you? I wrote it down, it’s on the board.’
‘Fine, yeah. Did you get groceries in?’
Mike pursed his lips. ‘You said you’d pick up dinner on the way back from work this morning.’
‘I’m sorry, I forgot, I’ll go get something now.’
‘Don’t bother,’ he snapped, and went into the bedroom. She followed.
‘It’s no bother, for chrissakes, it’ll take me two minutes. I’ll get dressed and —’
He began to loosen his tie. ‘Send out for something. There’s a list by the phone of takeouts, they’ll deliver.’
She rubbed her arm. ‘Anything you don’t make a list of, Mike?’
He glared. ‘Yeah, and you know what that is. I haven’t slept with you for a month — you want me to start putting that down? Like, when it suits you?’
She walked out, not wanting to get into an argument as the two little girls hurtled into the bedroom to fling themselves at Mike. He swung them round, tickled them on the king-sized bed to their delight. Then he showered and changed, bathed each girl, combed their hair and put them into their pyjamas. They were tucked up in bed, each with their own special toy, when he returned to the kitchen. Lorraine was sitting with a mug of black coffee.
‘You want to say goodnight to them?’
‘Sure.’ She got up and bumped into the edge of the table, and gave a little smile. As soon as she was out, he checked the freezer. One look at the bottle was enough.
‘Did you call for some takeouts?’
Lorraine was cuddling Sally. He repeated the question and she sighed. ‘Yeah, yeah, there’s some pizzas coming any minute.’
‘Pizzas?’ he said flatly. Donny Patterson was his superior in the law firm, so Mike had wanted something more special but he went to lay the dining table. He could hear Lorraine reading to the girls, who were giggling loudly — she was good at funny voices. He took out the best cut glasses and the best mats and even gave the cutlery a quick polish. Then he went into the kitchen and began to make a salad. He was neat and methodical as usual, carefully slicing each tomato, washing the lettuce and the celery.
‘You going to get dressed?’ he called out, one eye on the clock.
Lorraine was lying on their bed, eyes closed. He opened the wardrobe and began to choose a shirt, a pair of slacks. He took great pride in his clothes, which were expensive, stylish, proof of his new-found success. He was hoping to be made a partner in the firm, and knew it was on the cards.
‘What you working on?’ she asked, stretching her arms above her head and yawning.
‘It’s the Coleridge case. It looks like he’ll divorce his wife without too much aggravation, and it’s more than likely he’ll get custody of the children.’
‘Really?’ she said, without any interest, as she watched him holding up a shirt against himself.
‘Do you like this shirt?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What are you going to put on?’
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. She didn’t feel like seeing anyone, let alone going to a movie or having dinner with two self-important, wannabe-wealthy middle-class snobs. ‘Oh, maybe the Chanel or the Armani. I dunno, Mike, and I’ve got a headache.’
‘You want an aspirin?’
‘Nope, maybe I’ll take another shower.’
He held her close. ‘The Pattersons are important to me, sweetheart, okay?’
She kissed him and rested her head against his shoulder. ‘I’ll be a good girl, promise.’
He touched her cheek. It never ceased to amaze him that she could arouse such passion in him. He loved the way she looked, her tall slender body. ‘You okay? Did you have a bad night?’
She pressed her face into his neck. Did she have a bad night? The painful blurred memory physically hurt, and she moaned softly, a half sob which he took to be confirmation that she wanted him. He began to slide her robe off her perfect shoulders, kissing the side of her neck.
‘I better change.’ She stepped away from him.
‘What’s the matter, Lorraine?’
She sighed, shaking her head. ‘Nothing, Mike. I guess I’m just tired.’
He heard the shower running and slowly got dressed. As he reached for his cufflinks, he saw the photograph of Lorraine and her former partner, a dark, tousle-haired, moody-looking guy. Lorraine always referred to him as Lubrinski. Since his death, she had been different, unapproachable. Mike had tried unsuccessfully to get her to talk about it but she seemed loath even to hear Lubrinski’s name. Mike had not said a word when the silver-framed photograph appeared after the man had been shot. He had tried to persuade Lorraine to take a few weeks’ leave but she refused. Instead, he knew, she had asked for more overtime and specifically night duty.
Lubrinski’s laconic half-smile seemed to mock him yet he was sure there had been nothing between them. She had admired him, Mike knew that. He had seemed shy, hardly speaking on the few occasions Mike had met him.
Lorraine came out of the shower, wrapped in a towel with another round her wet hair. ‘You want some aspirin, sweetheart?’
‘Yeah, yeah, thanks.’
The hair-dryer felt leaden in her hands. All she wanted was to lie down and sleep. Mike handed her a glass of water and two aspirins. He kissed the top of her head; her hair fell in a soft pageboy style, flattering her heart-shaped face. ‘I’ll maybe get a partnership soon,’ he said, as he sat on the edge of the bed. ‘It’ll mean a lot more money and you not having to work.’
She slowly rubbed foundation cream over her cheeks, a small dop on her nose. ‘When will you know?’
‘Well, this Coleridge case is good for me. He’s an influential guy — he’s even said he’d recommend me to his friends.’
‘All getting divorces, are they?’ He laughed as, dipping the thick brush into the face powder, she dabbed it over her face. ‘I thought you wanted to specialize in criminal law.’