‘Get your school things – we’re going,’ said Mum.
Clara could see the fading yellow bruise on her mum’s neck. Last time Dad had held her against the wall, she had blacked out and that’s when Clara knew she hated her father.
Clara swept her things into her bag and ran into her room and saw it was cleared out of nearly everything personal and she came out to Mum again, excited and scared about what Mum was finally doing for them. For herself most of all.
‘Your grandmother’s house,’ said Mum, not looking at Clara.
‘My grandmother?’
Clara had never heard she had a grandmother, and she wondered what she was like but knew not to ask any questions yet.
Knowing when to speak and when not to speak was a skill that Clara had learned from her father. And as they shut the door behind them, Clara crossed her fingers that Dad wouldn’t come home from the pub early and see them at the bus stop.
20
The next morning, Henry woke earlier than usual. He was looking forward to the work ahead for the day. New roofing reed was coming and then he, Clara and Pansy were travelling into Chippenham to look for bookshelves and get paint samples for the inside and outside of the cottage. But most of all, he was looking forward to seeing Clara.
She had made him laugh so much over dinner, telling stories of loan applications for bizarre things at the bank she used to work at. She had coloured in a fairy book with Pansy and took Pansy’s bossy instruction about which colours to put where with good grace. And she looked so beautiful in her red dress with her dark hair that shone under the lamplight.
The strap of her dress fell from her shoulders periodically and it was all he could do not to gently lift it back, wanting to feel her skin with his fingers.
But he didn’t. He kept himself busy, serving, cleaning, pottering and when Pansy was in bed, they took their wine outside with his outdoor chairs and sat in the semidarkness telling stories about themselves.
He lay back in his bed now, remembering her closeness to him, the stars bright above them.
He had told her about Naomi’s death. She listened. She asked questions about Naomi people had never asked him.
What was her favourite film? Who did she hate? What was she most grateful for in life?
He knew all the answers.
The Great Race.
People who used religion as an excuse for being cruel to others.
She was most grateful her Mum had time to say goodbye instead of her death being swift and sudden, leaving loved ones bewildered and in shock.
He told her he thought he would die when Naomi died but the morning after she died, Pansy asked for pancakes and he made them because there was no one else and they ate pancakes and got on with living because that’s what Naomi would have wanted.
And she told him about her mum.
She was eleven when they left the first time. The beatings and drinking were too much. Then she was thirteen when they left again. And then fourteen. And then finally they left for good when she was fifteen.
Her mother had to learn how to do everything again as Clara’s father had controlled the money, the food, even what to wear.
No wonder Clara felt compelled to help Rachel escape her mother.
Henry showered and then changed into his work clothes and checked his phone.
Pansy is here, eating rabbit cake for breakfast.
He laughed and walked over to the cottage. He found Clara and Pansy sitting in their pyjamas eating cake and drinking tea.
‘Have a look at you two,’ he said. ‘You look like absolute old women nattering and too lazy to get dressed.’
Pansy ignored him, but he noticed Clara blushed. She looked gorgeous in her flowery PJs and messy hair.
Stop, Henry, he reminded himself. She’s a client. You’re lonely, that’s all. Having a crush on your boss isn’t going to help anything, especially when it’s not reciprocated.
He hadn’t dated at all since Naomi had died, it wasn’t even a consideration, but Clara made him wonder if he was ready. Except he didn’t want to date anyone. He just wanted to kiss Clara. He realised she was all he thought about now, which was a nice change but it made him feel like a teenager again and he hadn’t enjoyed his teen years once, so he definitely didn’t want to go through it again.
‘What time are we heading off?’ asked Clara, pouring him tea and pushing a mug reading Keep Calm and STFU at him.
‘When you’re ready,’ he said, sitting down and taking some cake and raising his mug in a toast with Pansy.
‘What does your mug say?’ asked Pansy.
‘God, sorry, I shouldn’t have given you that,’ said Clara.
Henry glanced at the cup and then at Pansy, ‘Keep calm and eat your crusts.’
‘It does not,’ said Pansy, looking at him suspiciously.
‘It does so,’ said Henry.
Clara laughed. ‘I’m going to get changed.’ Clara left the kitchen and he heard her running upstairs.
Clara seemed to rush everywhere. She had more energy than Pansy at times, and never complained about tiredness. He wasn’t sure if her energy was contagious but he felt alive when he was around her, more alive than he had felt since Naomi died.
Perhaps part of him died with Naomi but with Clara a new part of himself had been born. He was excited and laughed more easily and was always thinking about the next day instead of getting through the current one.
He washed up the teacups and hummed a song he wasn’t sure how he knew or what the name of it was.
‘If you marry Clara, then I can stay here and go to school and we can get a dog,’ said Pansy leaning on her hands and peering
