‘So you had concerns about Rachel before the –’
‘Oh, call it what it was!’ goes Mister. ‘Murder! It was murder! How could that evil little monster have possibly not meant to kill Tricia?’
I nod. ‘You’d concerns about Rachel from the get-go?’
‘Yes, we did,’ goes Missus. ‘She was a mousy little thing, quiet… watchful, in a very unsettling way… She’d sit watching me while Tricia burbled on. She was polite, she always said please and thank you and offered to help with the washing up… but I always thought there was something… not quite right about her.’
My feelings exactly. My fucking feelings exactly.
26
Thank God for bad mothers, thought Flora, watching Selina Wright, elegant in white shirt and skinny jeans, Mulberry bag hanging from one elbow, light up a fag behind the Forsythia before bolting for the garden door and freedom. Her brood of five – or was it six? – were screaming their heads off at the bottom of the garden with Beckie and the only other three kids who had turned up to the party. Selina’s daughter Miranda was in Beckie’s class and had been invited, but her numerous siblings hadn’t been. This was an opportunity, though, for Selina to unload responsibility for a few hours, and no way was she passing it up just because Beckie’s parents were reputed to be violent towards pregnant girls and children.
It was the same story with the hyper little boy, whose parents were obviously just grateful for the respite. And Mia’s mum, Flora suspected, was taking full advantage of the opportunity to rile Ailish. ‘Sorry Ailish is being such a bitch,’ she’d even grimaced as she’d unloaded Mia from a Land Rover that looked like it had just returned from a war zone.
The only other kid who’d turned up was Edith.
Her mother Shona hadn’t come in with her – she’d turned away from the door without once making eye contact, but Flora had told Edith to go through and find Beckie’s dad, and followed Shona down the path to the pavement.
‘Sorry Shona, can I have a quick word about… well, about Beckie and Edith?’
The other woman, pulling her bag up her skinny shoulder, had shot her a sideways look.
‘I’m so sorry about the bullying – I hope there haven’t been any more problems?’
‘Oh no.’ A nervous smile past Flora’s left shoulder.
Flora smiled nervously herself. ‘The thing is… I’m concerned that another child might be bullying Edith and stealing her lunch.’ This was, after all, a possibility. ‘Has she said anything to you about that…?’
Shona shook her head, her gaze now on the pavement.
‘Right. It’s just… I’m a bit of a “feeder”, as my friend calls it, and I always pack far too much lunch for Beckie, and Beckie says Edith has been eating the extra food and seems… well, really hungry. So I think there’s something going on there. I’ve mentioned it to Mrs Jenner, in fact…’
Shona’s eyes met hers for a millisecond. ‘I – thank you.’
‘No no – there’s no need to thank me. As I say, I’m such a feeder! But –’
‘I suffer from depression and I’m not always…’ The poor woman was twisting the strap of her bag. ‘I’m not…’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Flora touched her arm.
‘I’m not always able to look after her properly, I know that, I know Edith is suffering for it. Her dad wants custody.’
‘Oh Shona. Would you like to come in for a minute? I – I do understand, I think, a bit. I… Recently, I’ve had some problems myself. Please, come in and have a coffee… or maybe some iced tea?’
For a fraction of a second Shona hesitated, and then, like a frightened deer, shook herself and backed up. ‘Thank you, no, thank you, I have to…’ And she turned and half-ran away down the pavement.
Oh God. Poor Shona.
Poor little Edith.
Edith hadn’t stopped smiling nervously since she’d got here. Flora had taken Beckie to one side and told her that Edith’s mum was having problems and wasn’t well, a bit like Flora hadn’t been well, and Edith didn’t have her dad at home like Beckie did, so poor Edith wasn’t eating properly and wasn’t being looked after very well. But Beckie mustn’t tell anyone. ‘Because Edith might be taken away from her mum?’ Beckie had immediately realised, and Flora, after a moment’s thought, had nodded. ‘Edith is having a really hard time at the moment. I don’t think the problem is that she doesn’t want to be friends with you – I think she’s just very sad and, as you thought, lonely and maybe scared. I think she really needs someone looking out for her at school.’
Beckie had frowned, and nodded.
Now, Beckie was standing with Mia on one side and Edith on the other, and all three were poking at something in the grass with sticks, laughing. Edith poked her stick down too hard and it snapped, leaving her with a stump in her hand. Beckie, seeing this happen, swooped under a tree and returned with another stick, so big it was almost a branch, hauling it behind her with exaggerated effort until all three girls were in hysterics. Edith, accepting it from Beckie, pretended to stagger backwards, her face flushed.
Good girl, Beckie.
But what was she going to do about the whole Shona problem? Speak to Social Services? Karen at the Scottish Children’s Reporter Administration? But what if that meant Shona losing Edith? But maybe that would be the best thing for Edith?
She would think about it later.
When this damn party was over.
Neil, when he’d eventually deigned to start speaking to Flora again, had said they had to put everything with the Johnsons aside for one afternoon and give Beckie a fun birthday. For the sake of peace, Flora had pretended to agree, but she’d no intention of letting down her guard. The fact that Neil was in denial meant she had to be doubly vigilant. And it didn’t help that all the other mums of the kids that were here had bailed. She kept scanning the top of the wall, the trees, the bushes, expecting any moment to see one of the Johnson thugs. She kept wishing the kids would be quiet and not draw so much attention to themselves.
Should she even have let them out in the garden?
But it was a glorious, boiling hot July day. What possible reason could she give for not letting them play outside? As long as she was super-vigilant and never took her eyes off Beckie… At least Beckie was easy to spot. She was adorable in a hideous rainbow top and bright green leggings, jumping up and down and shouting. And now, in that dizzying way kids had at this age, she suddenly broke off what she was doing and raced across the grass towards Flora – and carried on past to the patio doors.
‘Caroline!’ She flung her arms round Caroline’s waist. ‘I thought you might have forgotten!’
‘Forget the social event of the year?’ Caroline had got into the party spirit in a short 1970s-style dress with swirly orange and brown and white flowers on it that showed off her slim tanned legs, and she’d gone the whole hog with green eye shadow and pale pink lips.
She looked sensational.
‘Is that my present?’
‘Maybe.’ Caroline grinned at Flora. ‘Sorry I’m late – bit of a work crisis.’
Flora hugged her. ‘Thanks so much for coming. But if you’ve got stresses at work –’
‘Hey, thank you. A whole afternoon with the Beckster? What could be better de-stress than that?’
And she grinned at Beckie, and Beckie grinned at her.
‘Here you go then, sweetheart. Hope you like them.’
Beckie ripped into the paper. ‘Ooh, Gazelles!’ She pulled out the box and set it on the table. Her eyes wide, she slowly opened the lid.