The telly was dead. When I plugged it in the stinky smell of burning plastic filled the room. Tom was in the playroom bashing together a pair of action men – probably imagining dispatching Maddie in various gruesome ways.
‘Now tell me what happened,’ I said, clearing a pile of wooden bricks and bits of plastic from the floor so I could sit down.
He clutched the dolls as he talked only making eye contact with me at crucial points. ‘We were watching Basil Brush and Maddie said I was in the way but I wasn’t. I moved a bit and then she sat in front of me and I couldn’t see anything and I sat closer and she tried to push me out of the way and I pushed her then I got up and she pushed me again. And I fell on the telly and then it fell down. I’m sorry, Sal.’
‘OK.’
Maddie was in her bed, hidden by the covers.
‘Maddie, sit up.’
She made me wait but did eventually emerge from the duvet, looking as defiant as she could.
‘Tell me what happened?’
‘I told you,’ she said. ‘Tom was in the way and he wouldn’t move. I couldn’t see. He kept doing it and then he knocked the telly off.’ She looked miserable but her jaw was set and her chin lowered so she was glowering at me.
‘And what did you do?’
‘Nothing,’ she said brusquely. She ground her teeth mutinously.
‘Maddie, tell me the truth.’
‘I am!’ she cried.
‘All of it.’
‘That is all of it.’
I worked very hard at not losing my temper with her. ‘I don’t think Tom got up and pulled the telly over on purpose; I think something happened between you first. Did you push Tom?’
‘He pushed me, too.’
‘So that’s a yes.’
She gave a little sigh and her shoulders slumped.
‘It’s important to tell the truth, Maddie. If Tom got told off, or you did, for something you hadn’t done, that wouldn’t be fair, would it?’
‘No.’ Her voice couldn’t get any smaller.
‘If Tom was in the way, what else could you have done?’
‘Got you.’
‘Yes. Because getting into a pushing competition means that the telly is broken and neither of you will be able to watch anything until we can afford to buy a new one. And that might be quite a while,’ I added, wanting her to understand that she’d suffer as a result.
Maddie’s face had gone blank now, as if she was trying to absent herself from the situation.
From downstairs Jamie gave a cry and Maddie groaned. ‘When’s she going home?’
‘I don’t know when Jamie’s going home,’ I answered her. ‘I know it’s not very easy having a baby here, is it?’ She didn’t say anything, so I carried on. ‘But the telly is broken and I think you should say sorry.’
‘Sorry,’ she said ungraciously and fell back flat on the bed. ‘Can you go now?’
And that was as good as it got.
Ray was furious about the telly but I persuaded him not to talk to the kids until he’d calmed down a bit. Yelling at them wouldn’t achieve much. ‘I think Maddie’s jealous of the baby,’ I said. ‘I think that’s why she was winding Tom up. And he was really upset – don’t be too hard on him.’
‘They can’t just get away with murder,’ he said. ‘What’s that going to cost? Two hundred quid? Three?’
I shrugged. ‘We don’t have to replace it immediately.’
‘Are we covered by accidental damage?’
‘Maybe, but the excess will be a couple of hundred to start with.’
He sighed. ‘So, I’ll have to watch the match at the pub,’ he complained.
I hadn’t given any thought to football – nothing new there. ‘When’s it start?’
‘Seven forty-five.’
‘We need formula,’ I said. ‘Can you hang on until I get back? She’s asleep now,’ I said, moving to pick up my purse, trying to get out of there before he started on again about Jamie and what I should or shouldn’t do.
‘Sal, it’s been four days-’
‘I can count.’ I pulled on my coat and left.
There’s a mini-market on the main road and I thought it was big enough to carry different brands of baby milk. People were still commuting home from work; it was dark already and foggy now. The mist diffused the street lights into fuzzy globes and car headlights picked out skeins of fog, like soft grey netting. The air was ripe with exhaust fumes and the smell of fat-frying from the chippie.
As I pushed the heavy shop door open, I met a woman coming out. She looked familiar from school, though I didn’t know her well. Her son had been in Tom’s class but had changed schools the previous year. She remembered me, though, and stepped back into the shop. ‘Sal? Jenny. How are you? Tom OK?’
‘Yes.’
I couldn’t ask after her boy as I’d forgotten his name but she went on regardless. ‘Piers still asks after him. We’ll have to get them together. Tom must come for tea sometime.’
‘Yes, he’d like that.’ I hoped, if it ever came to pass. ‘Does Piers like the new school?’
‘Loves it, thank God. And we’re near enough so he can walk.’ She hefted her bag of shopping from one hand to the other. ‘So, how’s Laura?’
‘Laura?’ Ray’s ex. The one he’d finished with in order to start his dalliance with me. I’d felt bad about it; I liked her but at least Ray had been honest and not tried to deceive anyone.
Jenny grinned. ‘Did she have a boy or a girl?’
‘Sorry?’ I said stupidly. My throat felt dry and my stomach lurched.
‘I saw her at the open-air theatre – Wythenshawe Park. We must have had the only dry day in March. She looked fit to pop. Didn’t get chance to talk.’
My mind was fracturing. I heard myself speak, sounding quite normaclass="underline" ‘They split up, Ray and Laura. I’ve not seen her.’ Meanwhile I was doing sums in my head, seeing that it added up and a voice was shouting: Laura’s pregnant, Laura’s had a baby. Ray’s baby. Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod.
‘Oh, sorry, I’d no idea,’ Jenny said. ‘Can’t be easy for her.’
‘No.’ I wanted to push her out of the shop and shut her up.
‘Keep in touch.’ She nodded.
I mirrored her and stood back and watched her leave.
She reminds me of Tom, Ray had said about Jamie. My ears were buzzing, the strip light flickering above hurt my eyes and I felt sick and cold. The signature on the note: not Lisa or Lear but Laura. Oh, God.
The baby hadn’t been left for me, but for Ray. Jamie was Ray’s daughter. His and Laura’s. He was supposed to look after her, not me. It all fit.
And I began to shake.
ELEVEN
My heart wouldn’t stop hammering as I raced to grab the formula then fumbled to find my purse and pay. I dropped my change, picked it up and knocked over the tub of baby milk. The checkout girl laughed sympathetically but my jaw was clenched too tight to smile back.
There was no way I could go straight home: I was too upset, too confused. My mind was humming and fuzzy with the news I’d heard.
Diane opened the door. ‘You’ve come for your drawing?’ Then she saw my face. She didn’t ask, didn’t say a word. Just opened her arms and drew me in.
She listened as I explained the situation. ‘So she’s Laura’s baby, and Ray’s,’ I finished. My phone rang. I knew it would be Ray, pacing the hall, eager to leave for the pub. I didn’t answer it.
‘You can’t be certain,’ she cautioned.
‘No. But it’s pretty bloody likely. Maybe I’m overreacting but it just feels like it’ll change everything. He’ll waltz off into the sunset with Laura and Tom and Jamie and… I can’t stand this!’ Suddenly I was angry rather than sad; the aching sensation in my guts replaced by a spike of rage. ‘When did I get to be so needy? I don’t want to depend on Ray for how I’m feeling; I don’t want my happiness, my sanity, to be in his hands.’