We had been afraid of anyone finding out that Mum had gone and had been convinced that social services would come and take us away, with me still six months away from my sixteenth birthday. I’d been sure that Mum would come back soon, and we just had to hold on for another day. That was what I used to tell Amy – just another day – but mostly, I was convincing myself.
We simply told everyone that she was sick. Somehow, Mrs Wheeler had figured out that there was more to it, but she allowed us the dignity of maintaining the pretence. Once a week, she would bring a home-cooked meal boxed up in Tupperware and tell us to pass her regards to our mother. Other people had known too – I could tell from the way they looked at us. But as long as we were clean, healthy and going to school each day, nobody seemed to think there was any need to raise an alarm.
Auntie Sue was horrified when she eventually got there. Fed up with her calls to her sister going unanswered and her nieces making increasingly crap excuses for their mother’s inability to come to the phone, she got in her car and drove down from Aberdeen. We tried to pretend Mum was out for the evening, but she knew straight away that something wasn’t right. There was no discussion – shortly afterwards, she simply moved all of her stuff in.
It had been such a relief to me to finally have an adult around again, if only to have some authority assume the decision-making. I hadn’t realised how exhausted I had been until the weekend after Auntie Sue arrived, when I slept for almost two days straight. It had been four months since Mum had left, but when you’re drowning, any time at all is eternity and finally, here was our lifeboat.
Auntie Sue had allowed us to keep the routine we had grown used to, assuring us that we’d been doing remarkably well and that she could learn a thing or two from us – like Amy’s recipes. That’s why Amy had kept on cooking.
And now here was Lucas, sharing his mother’s passion for throwing out the rules of the recipe book. If he wanted to keep on cooking, I would encourage it.
I offered him the spoon and he took a taste from the mixture in the pan, knotting his eyebrows in concentration.
‘You know what this needs? A good dollop of honey!’
I sent a message to my sister:
Banana in shepherd’s pie. You were one in a million xo
Chapter Ten
It was quite possibly the longest weekend of my life. I found myself wishing for a crisis at work, something with one of the clients that they would absolutely need my urgent help with, but nothing came. The hours dragged by so slowly that I could practically see the minutes and seconds stretching out in front of me. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, I was convinced there must be something wrong with the clock.
I went for a quick run after lunch to clear my head. The tide was out, so I ran along the sand, imagining that I could just keep going, leaving my problems behind and seeing where the beach led me.
A stitch in my side forced me to stop. I got my breath back, greedily gulping the crisp, salty air. I’d forgotten how relaxing it was to simply watch the sea. It was a reassuring presence, and just being so close to the water made me feel calmer.
How was I going to tackle Mike about my suspicions without accusing him of something horrific? I played out the conversation in my head, watching as the white foam lapped greedily at the sand.
I was making dinner with Lucas when we heard a car pull up out front.
‘Dad’s home!’ he yelled to his sisters.
Betsy and Lucas jumped onto Mike in the hallway while Hannah hung back, leaning shyly against the radiator. As Mike swooped his eldest daughter into a hug and kissed the top of her head, I saw that he had tears in his eyes. It was clear he had missed them.
He came towards me, and his arms widened reflexively. Was he about to hug me, too? I mumbled a hello and he caught himself, looking down at his feet, gluing his hands back to his sides. I busied myself at the stove.
‘So, did everyone behave for Auntie Izzy?’ He ruffled Lucas’s hair.
‘They were as good as gold,’ I replied.
Mike peered over to see what we were cooking. Lucas had reminded me of Amy’s egg and mushroom pie, another classic I was pleased to see she had kept up.
‘I’m thinking of handing over all responsibility for cooking to Lucas,’ I said.
Lucas beamed.
Mike opened a bottle of wine, and over dinner, told the kids about his trip. He’d brought back nothing more exciting than liquorice sweets and Dutch wafer biscuits, but the kids seemed thrilled with their airport-bought souvenirs. He looked like he’d aged ten years since Amy’s death. There were bags under his eyes and crows’ feet stretching towards his temples, and I could have sworn he had more grey hairs. I could probably say the same for me.
As we cleared up, I got ready to say my piece. I’d built up the courage during my run along the beach – now I just needed to get Mike alone. I made sure the kids were out of earshot and took a deep breath. He was standing at the sink with his back to me.
‘Listen, Mike – we need to talk about the findings from the coroner’s office. Amy’s blood tests and the problems with the car…’
He stopped washing, hesitated, then started again. ‘I was going to tell you all, I was just waiting until
