‘All right.’ I could cope with cleaning out a stick insect’s home.
She looked at me in surprise. Maybe she’d started too low, a grave negotiating mistake.
‘I want a hamster.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘I
‘The trouble with pets,’ I said, ‘is that they need cleaning out and feeding, and after the first few days you’ll get bored, and guess who’ll do it. And pets die.’ I regretted the words as soon as I spoke them, but Elsie didn’t blink.
‘I want
‘Elsie…’
‘Or one dog.’
Letters abruptly slapped through the letter-box and on to the tiled floor.
‘I’ll get them.’
Elsie slid from the table and retrieved a pile of envelopes, more than usual. The brown for bills I put to one side. The slim white ones, with my name formally typed and the stamp franked in the corner, I peered at suspiciously and put to the other side. They were almost certainly from newspapers or TV programmes. The handwritten ones I opened and quickly glanced at: ‘Darling Sam, if there’s anything we can do…’; ‘I was so surprised when I read…’; ‘Dear Sam, I know we’ve lost touch recently, but when I heard about…’
And there was one envelope I didn’t know what to do with. It was addressed to Daniel Rees in neat blue-Biro capitals. I supposed I’d better send it on to his parents. I held up the envelope to the light, stared at it as if it held the key to a mystery. The gummed seal of the envelope was detached in one corner. I slid my finger under the flap and opened it a bit further. Then all the way.
I folded the letter up and slid it back into its envelope. Rome with Danny. Hand in hand in T-shirts and in love. Under the starched sheets in a hotel bedroom, with a fan stirring the baked air. Pasta and red wine and huge and antique ruins. Cool churches and fountains. I’d never been to Rome.
‘Who’s the letter from, Mummy?’
‘Oh, nobody.’
Why had he changed his mind so abruptly? What had I done, or not done, that he could forgo Rome with me for death in a burnt-out car with a fucked-up girl? I pulled out the letter again. ‘Thank you for your inquiries this morning…’ It was dated 8 March 1996. That was the day that it happened, the day he went off with Finn. Pain gathered, ready to spring, above my eyes.
‘Will we be late for school again, Mummy?’
‘What? No! No of course we won’t be late for school, we’ll be
‘I just signed where she told me to.’
‘But
‘Sorry.’ Sally went on scrubbing the oven. That was it.
‘I wanted to speak to you about it, Linda, before Elsie comes back.’
‘She said it was nothing.’ Linda’s eyes filled with tears. ‘A formality.’
‘Didn’t you read it?’
She just shrugged and shook her head. Why hadn’t they been nosy like me?
Michael’s house was not large, but it was lovely in a cool and modish kind of way. The downstairs floor was entirely open-plan and the French windows in the uncluttered kitchen opened out on to a paved courtyard in which stood a small conical fountain. I looked around: well-stocked bookshelves, vivid rugs on austere floors, tortured black-and-white drawings writhing on serene white walls, pot plants that looked green and fleshy, full wine racks, photographs of boats and cliffs and not a single person in them. How could a GP afford such style? Well, at least he was living up to the status he would soon acquire. We sat at a long refectory table and drank real coffee out of mugs with delicate handles.
‘You were lucky to catch me. I’m on call,’ he said. Then he reached over and took my hand in both of his. I noticed his nails were long and clean.
‘Are you all right, Sam?’
As if I were a patient. I pulled away.
‘Does that mean you aren’t?’ he asked. ‘Look, this is a horrible business, horrible for you, horrible for me too. We should try and help each other through it.’
‘I’ve read Finn’s will.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘Did she show it to you?’ I shook my head and he sighed. ‘So is that what this is about?’
‘Michael, do you
He sighed.
‘I know I’m the executor, whatever that means. She asked me.’
‘Do you mean you’ve got no idea?’
He looked at his watch.
‘Has she left everything to you?’ he asked with a smile.
‘No. She’s left everything to you.’
The expression on his face froze. He stood up and walked to the French window with his back to me.
‘Well?’ I demanded.
He looked round.
‘To me?’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Why should she do that?’
‘But it’s not on, right?’
Michael’s face took on a quizzical expression.
‘I don’t know what to say. It’s all so…’
‘So unethical,’ I said. ‘Dubious.’
‘What?’ Michael looked up as if he had only just heard. ‘Why would she do that? What was she up to?’
‘Are you going to accept it?’
‘What? It’s all so sudden.’
There was a sudden beeping sound and he put his hand in his jacket pocket.
‘Sorry, I’ve got to rush,’ he said. ‘I’m stunned, Sam.’ Then he smiled. ‘Saturday.’ I looked puzzled. ‘Sailing, remember? Might be good for us. Get things in perspective. And we should have a proper talk.’
I’d forgotten about that arrangement: sailing was all I needed.
‘It’ll do me good,’ I said hollowly.
I held Elsie like a precious jewel; I was scared that I would break her with the might of my love. I felt so strong, so alive, so euphoric with grief and rage. My blood was coursing around my body, my heart was beating loudly; I felt clean and supple and untired.
‘Did Danny,’ I asked carefully, casually, ‘ever say anything to you about Finn?’
She shrugged.
‘What about Finn?’ I stroked Elsie’s silky hair and wondered what secrets were locked inside her neat skull. ‘Did she say anything about Danny?’
‘Nope.’ She shifted in my lap. ‘Danny used to
‘Oh.’
Elsie looked at me with curious wide eyes.
‘And Danny said that you’re the best mummy in the world.’
‘Did he?’
