Mum was not herself, at least not the lively, happy woman she’d been just the day before. She hadn’t dressed yet and was silently nursing a cup of tea that must have gone cold. I’d barely heard her talk all morning, and the puffiness around her eyes made me want to cry. She stared straight ahead at an invisible point on the table, drowning in her thoughts. I could see that she was withdrawing into herself by the minute, and I was afraid to lose her again, just as she was starting to make progress. Even Auntie Sue was giving me one-word answers.
They needed a distraction – we all did. Thankfully, I had a pitch to finish.
It was a crazy idea, but I put everyone to work. Before long, Betsy was helping Auntie Sue to glue scraps of fabric and colour swatches onto my mood board while Lucas edited a 360-degree model of a hotel bedroom on the family laptop.
I asked Hannah to look at my PowerPoint, expecting some feedback on the design, and when she screwed her nose up at it, I told her to make me a better one. She was now putting together a short conceptual video to present Izzy Morton Interiors, scouring the internet for abstract footage and images that represented the brand vision. For once, I was lost for words.
Slowly but surely, Mum started to come around. Lucas nudged her gently with questions about the positioning of furniture in the 3D model, and as she described the flows of energy in a room, the light began to return to her eyes.
Lucas suggested that energy flows could be built into the model, an additional layer of graphics to give a visual representation of the chi so that everyone could see it as she did. Under her direction, he animated swirling patterns that looked like streams of molten gold and shimmering diamonds, pouring in through the windows and doors and bouncing around the room, reverberating and echoing off the energy points she had strategically placed, and Mum’s smile finally returned.
We were disturbed by the sound of the front door opening. Auntie Sue gave me a questioning look as she got up to see who it was.
‘Rachel!’ Auntie Sue said. ‘My dear girl.’
She pulled her into an embrace, and Rachel gave me a feeble smile over her shoulder. She was pale, with sunken hollows beneath her eyes, and I wondered how much sleep she had managed to get. The last few days had added years to her. I wanted to feed her, provide hugs and cups of sugary tea.
At least working on the pitch was providing a great distraction for everyone. I had been so absorbed by the work and by making sure that everyone had something to do, I had barely thought about drinking.
We proudly showed Rachel our progress, and I could see how much the kids had missed her. They asked about Phil, and she was honest – she didn’t know what he had done or where he was. Her voice faltered as she spoke.
‘But no matter what, I’m still your Auntie Rachel. I love you all so much. And I’m not going anywhere.’
I pulled her into the privacy of the kitchen the moment the kids got back to work. ‘What’s going on? Where’s Phil?’
Rachel shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. ‘I’ve got no idea. He’s not answering my calls. The police told me he went to his mum’s, but she says he’s not there.’
I reflexively wrapped her in a hug. ‘Don’t worry, love. He’s probably just cooling off, getting over the shock of it all. He’ll be home soon.’
She nodded, wiping her tears on her sleeve.
‘And he’s innocent, that’s the main thing.’ I hesitated for a second, wanting to press without adding to the pressure on her. ‘So they must be convinced that it was Richard. I wonder what else they have on him, besides the phone. Are you sure Amy never said anything about him? Anything about being afraid of him?’
‘I don’t know, Izzy, I don’t know what to believe any more. I don’t know what’s real…’ Her lip trembled and she stopped short. I folded her back into me.
By midday, there was still no news. Rachel started making lunch, while the rest of us reviewed the results of a morning’s hard work. What we had managed to produce in just a few hours had surpassed even my grandest expectations. Izzy Morton Interiors was suddenly beginning to feel very real. Maybe, just maybe, I could pull this off.
We sat down to eat. Rachel’s hand trembled as she ladled soup into our bowls, so I gently took it from her and finished serving. Perhaps, when this was all over, I thought, we could take a break together – just to get away from Seahouses. A girls’ trip would do her so much good.
The chatter started to slow down as the family ate, and in those growing moments of silence, I could see worry flashing across the kids’ faces. Hannah kept looking at the clock and was constantly checking her phone – although that was nothing new. She was a bright kid, and she knew what she had seen that day in Newcastle. I wondered how much she had worked out for herself and how her loyalty to her father would be tested if she found out what he’d done. Mum began to hum, and Betsy started sucking her thumb as soon as she had finished eating. We needed to get back to work.
I stood at the front of the living room, my presentation on the TV screen and my mood board serving as a backdrop. Looking at my ‘audience’ I suddenly felt nervous – I needed to
