The lie is getting worse by the second and Lauren’s brain is banging against the side of her head as she attempts to stop it unravelling altogether. ‘We normally stay in the car,’ she says. ‘But I was hoping to get the inside cleaned as well, so we went to the waiting room.’
‘Well, I don’t want the kids there – it’s dirty and reeks of all kinds of shit. Now you smell like an old ashtray.’
If she’s going to fail at the first interrogation, when she’s done nothing wrong, how is she going to fare when she has? The thought of seeing Justin again makes her insides somersault. She looks away in case Simon can see it in her eyes.
‘Anyway, why are you home so early?’ she says, whilst thinking, today of all days.
‘Why do you think?’ he says, and Lauren’s heart sinks. Her eyes follow him into their tiny galley kitchen, where he opens the fridge and takes out a beer.
‘Have you been laid off?’ She just stops herself from saying, again.
‘Yep.’
‘What are you going to do?’ she asks.
‘I’ve asked around. Bill says he might have something for me towards the end of the week. I’m going to go down the pub in a bit – see if there’s anything knocking around down there.’
‘And if there isn’t?’ she asks, treading carefully.
‘Then I’m going to be around more than I usually am,’ he says tightly.
Not so long ago, back when she was working, the thought of them spending a day together excited her. They’d drive to Brighton and eat fish and chips on the promenade, the smell of vinegar and sea air taking her back to day trips with her parents. She’d contemplate their life together and lean into the husband she loved as they watched the waves crashing onto the pebble beach. But that was when they got on, when they were both working and bringing in money. Now, Lauren wonders if she lost his respect when she lost her salary.
‘Great!’ she says through gritted teeth. ‘Why don’t you go and starts the kids’ baths? You know Noah loves it when you do it.’
‘Yeah, I could do,’ he says, his expression beginning to soften, giving Lauren a rare glimpse of why she fell for him in the first place.
A ringing phone pierces the silence and Lauren looks to Simon, hoping that if she pretends not to hear it, he somehow won’t either.
‘Aren’t you going to get that?’ he asks.
Her blood feels like it’s stopped flowing and frozen inside her veins. Simon stands there watching her as she slowly reaches towards her bag. She hopes it’s her mother. She even hopes it might be Kate, because the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. The unknown number flashes urgently on the screen and a whirling pool of nausea rises up from her stomach. She tries to keep her face expressionless, but she fears the pulsation in her bottom lip is making it quiver.
Simon’s looking at her expectantly, leaving her with no choice but to slide to answer. She almost cowers, waiting for the person on the other end to speak first, knowing that if it’s a male voice, she’s going to have to think fast.
‘Hel-lo,’ she offers, when she can bear the protracted silence no longer.
‘Lauren?’ says a voice. A female voice.
Lauren has to bite down on her lip to stop an involuntary sob of relief from escaping.
‘Lauren, it’s Jess. Are you okay to talk?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she says, before mouthing It’s Jess to Simon.
‘I was just wondering if you’d managed to speak to Kate at all,’ Jess is saying on the other end of the line. ‘I tried to see her today, to talk to her, but she really doesn’t want to hear anything I’ve got to say, and I’m not sure she ever will. She just seems so angry with me, with you . . .’
Lauren walks into the door-less kitchen, where she’s afforded marginally more privacy. ‘I know,’ she says. ‘She’s going to need a bit of time to get her head around all this. You have to remember that you and I have had that luxury – she hasn’t, so we just need to be patient.’
‘She hates me,’ says Jess, her voice cracking.
‘Hey, hey, she doesn’t hate you,’ says Lauren, her mothering instinct coming to the fore. ‘She has no reason to. We just need to give her some space.’ Lauren looks at her watch. ‘Listen, I’m about to bath the kids and get them ready for bed. Do you want to come over?’
‘Yes,’ squeaks Jess. ‘Yes please.’
Lauren does a quick calculation in her head, knowing that Simon will be out of the door as soon as Noah’s head hits the pillow.
‘Give me an hour,’ she says, cradling the phone under her chin to pick up a pile of clean laundry that’s been sitting on the end of the sofa for the past two days. If not for Jess’s imminent arrival, it would have stayed there a lot longer.
‘Thank you,’ says Jess. ‘I really appreciate it.’
‘No worries,’ says Lauren, making her way upstairs. ‘See you shortly.’
Lauren busies herself with putting the children’s clothes into their chest of drawers, wishing they had more space. At the moment, Noah and Emmy have a bedroom each, but once Jude is out of her and Simon’s room, someone is going to have to share. She dared to dream that one day they would be able to afford their own four-bedroom house, instead of a three-bedroom rental.
‘Remember what I said,’ says Simon as she walks into the bathroom, where he’s flicking soap suds at Noah and Emmy, who are giggling incessantly. The coldness in his words are in contrast to the cosy scene. ‘Don’t go getting us into anything with your family, and if she’s got to come over, I want her gone before I get home.’
‘Yep, sure,’ says Lauren, just to keep the peace.
She checks her phone a hundred times between Simon going out and Jess arriving, though what she’s looking for she
