“But you can trust me, can’t you?” She sips at her tea again. I’m glad I didn’t quite boil the kettle. She might drink it faster. “You trust me with your son, don’t you?”
“I trust very few people right now. In fact, I’ve never felt more alone.”
“Oh, Fiona.” She slides from her stool and lands at my side. “You’re not alone.” She throws her arm across my shoulder. It’s a small comfort, having the warmth of another person’s limb against me.
“Why did you mention Bryony?”
“My daughter Chloe, goes to Guides with her niece, Ella, and also your stepdaughter.”
“Simone?”
“Yes. She has told them she was off school last Monday when it happened.”
“When Rob died? What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Rob and his ex apparently had a right go at each other. Simone was too upset to go to school after her dad had let her down.”
“When did she tell them this?”
“On Thursday, at Guides. And Ella says that Bryony has been really upset. I thought you should know.”
“Right.” I say slowly, trying to think. So that might have been the reason for the delay in Rob getting to Denton Road. Though I can’t imagine he would have been rowing with Denise for one hour, twenty minutes. He’s not usually in her presence for over five seconds. I bet he went to Bryony’s as well. “I must pass this information onto the police.” I want Lynne to go. It’s all too much. I need to be on my own.
Luckily, Jack bursts into the kitchen. “Spiderman has finished.”
Sam follows him, rubbing his eyes and heading straight to Lynne’s side. “I’m tired Mum.”
“We’d better be off,” she says. “If I don’t see you before, I’ll see you on Friday. I’ll be there for you.”
Jack, for the first time since Rob died, is out like a light. Now I know he will not have any brothers or sisters, I must invite his friends around more. Both Rob and I grew up as only children, which was one of the reasons we had vowed to have more children ourselves. But my drinking and our widening gulf put a stop to that. I can’t imagine meeting someone else in the future – I mean, who would want me, especially with all my baggage?
I glance out of the window. Although it’s the middle of summer, the sky is dark. It looks like it will throw it down. There might even be a storm. That is probably what we need to clear the air. I flick the lamp on and pull the curtains across. It is strange to spend the evening alone – almost for the first time since Rob died. There was only the very first night, when he died, that I was on my own. Either Mum or Dad has been here since.
I flick the TV on. The local news is starting. There’s nothing about Rob anymore. He’s old news now. Until they charge someone, then it will be back up there again. No news is good news. I still haven’t heard a thing about what’s going on. Not even a court date for the aggravated assault. Although they might stall that, whilst they try to gather evidence for further crimes against me. I’ll have to see. I’m trying not to worry, although these days I feel like the weather outside. The calm before the storm.
My thought’s wonder. It’s half-past nine and this time eight years ago, Jack was on the verge of being born. Rob didn’t leave my side the whole time and wept when Jack made his entrance at ten to ten. I couldn’t have loved a man more than I loved Rob back then. He had been wonderful whilst I was pregnant. He more than made up for the indifference of my mother.
A fat tear plops from my chin onto the magazine I’ve been clutching since I sat down. I can’t focus on reading, TV, or anything. There must be something severely wrong with me. Mum can’t stand me, Dad follows her around like a puppy, Grandma’s gone, and now Rob.
I haven’t really got any friends to speak of. I’d hardly class Lynne as a friend, no matter how nosy she is, and Christina hasn’t been near since I got arrested. I’ll knock on her door tomorrow as I’ve got no phone. Normally I’d have replaced it by now, but it’s slipped my mind with all that is going on. I don’t like being ignored by Christina – I thought she cared about me. As for Jack, I feel sure he’ll turn on me one day. Everybody does. The TV drones on. More self-pitying tears slide down my face. I feel so alone.
I freeze as I hear a bang from outside. Like something has been knocked over. Then the shattering of glass. Unless it’s an animal of some description, someone’s in the back garden. The front door is locked, but I don’t think I locked either of the back doors.
Throwing my magazine to the floor, I bolt from the lounge, through the dining room and into the conservatory. The door isn’t just unlocked, it’s swinging in the breeze. Sweat runs down the side of my head. It’s so warm. Fear grips me. Where’s the key? I grapple around the conservatory, desperate to get the door locked, so I can check the utility room.
Movement in the corner of my vision diverts my attention from my search. Someone is at the bottom of the garden. And I can’t find the bloody key.
“Who’s there?” I call into the dusk. I should call the police. But the landline is in the lounge and I daren’t risk walking away from this door, leaving it unlocked. I think of Jack sleeping upstairs. What happens to him if someone hurts me?
Mum’s smug face swims into my mind. If she hadn’t taken Dad away, then I wouldn’t even be here on my own. Self-centred cow.
