I had so little of that when I was a child; no one ever came to sports day and praised me for my hundred-metre sprint or my discus throw, and told me I was wonderful and they were proud of me (even though I was rubbish and came last every time). It’s such a cliché but I want everything to be different for my children. I want them to have all the things I didn’t have: love and devotion and adulation, a stable family life with a mum and dad and everything just as it should be.
Dan and I fall in and out of love – that’s normal, in long-term relationships, isn’t it? No doubt you and I will discuss this at some point. Right now, the brutal truth is that he gets on my nerves most of the time, and mostly I’m glad he spends such long hours at work so he’s not hanging round the house irritating me. But one thing is certain. We’ll always be together, a unit.
I would never let anything get in the way of that.
Chapter 3
Susannah
There’s something bewildering about drinking tea in the deliciously warm kitchen that throbs with people and voices and the clinking of numerous glasses and not having spoken a word to Charlotte, the hostess, yet. She’s busy distributing trays of elaborate nibbles and pouring liberal quantities of prosecco into outstretched champagne flutes. Brunette hair rippling and gleaming like a TV shampoo ad, she looks amazing. Dressed casually but immaculately in skinny jeans and an oversized, extremely stylish but still cosy cashmere sweater, she’s as pristine and perfect as her house. I’ve only seen the kitchen so far, but it’s to die for – opulent and enormous, white units and marble worktops that glitter under the artfully mismatched copper domes of designer lighting. All the glistening appliances look brand new and the central island must be about five metres long.
Once I’ve finished gazing nervously around me, I start to feel conspicuously alone again. It’s like the first day at my new school, which I joined at fourteen when the money for my private education had run out because my dad had lost his job and his savings were all used up. Everyone else was already in their friendship groups and all the other girls wandered around in tight little cliques with entwined arms and matching hair styles and speech patterns and I knew, just knew, I’d never be able to penetrate their armour-plated solidarity.
My hands grip tighter around my mug. I force myself to remember that I did, eventually, settle in and make friends and although it was never as if I’d been there from the beginning, at least I stopped being the odd one out. I raise my eyes and search the room. There must be people here, other women, other mothers, who I might get to know. Of course it doesn’t happen quickly; it’s not an overnight thing. I need to give it time.
As my gaze strays across the crowds, it falls on Charlotte and our eyes lock. She gives me the smallest, briefest, sweetest smile. There’s a moment when I recall the Hattie incident of earlier, but then my heart leaps and I smile back, a huge grin like that of an over-friendly dog ecstatic at being patted. Quickly, I modify it to something less undignified. Almost immediately, Charlotte’s attention is taken by someone else, another guest congratulating her on the food, the ambience, the decor, the general wonderfulness of everything about her, her house, and her hospitality. But just before she looks away, she smiles again and winks.
The gesture of complicity is so unexpected, and makes me feel so special, that I’m momentarily too stunned to respond. By the time I’ve come to my senses, Charlotte has moved off, snaffled by a red-haired woman with super-long legs, deep in conversation already. I bask for a few moments in the warm glow of her attention, even if so briefly and fleetingly caught. I allow myself the luxury of believing that it’s all going to work out, that this move to the country on which so much depends will prove to have been a good thing after all.
A rush of air at my side announces the rapid arrival of Jamie. He leans in and plants a kiss on my neck that I think was intended for my cheek but missed.
‘The party bus is awesome,’ he says, breathlessly. ‘It’s got more games than you could ever imagine. I’m going back. See you later.’ He turns to leave as precipitously as he arrived, only pausing for a fleeting second to call back over his shoulder, ‘Love you, Mum.’
I have no idea what they are actually playing – apart from the ubiquitous Fortnite, I’m woefully ignorant of any of these online games, and I have to trust that Charlotte will only have booked those that are age-appropriate. The main thing is that the boys appear to have been well and truly accepted. Jamie’s triumph in the paper chase – he won by some margin – far from provoking jealousy, seems to have elevated him to the status of some kind of hero. At the finish line, the other boys clustered around him to heap praise upon him and claim the prime place as his best friend whilst Luke, as is often the case, basked in his reflected glory.
‘Well done!’ The words are boomed into my ear at such volume that I jump out of my skin. ‘Excellent effort!’ the voice goes on.
I turn to see a stout, determined-looking woman with a double chin and bushy eyebrows looming over me. I recognise her as the large lady who was mustering all the children on the green and who I took to be the organiser of the event.
‘That boy of yours!’ Everything she says seems to end with an exclamation mark. ‘He put the rest of them to shame, won the paper chase hands down. Good show!’
I smile modestly. I’m proud
