Love Is a Secret (9 page)

Mark bristled inwardly but forced himself to sound polite, which years of practice at public school had instilled in him: ‘I wouldn’t say so.’

‘I see. But you obviously believe in joint parenting?’

In a blinding flash, Mark felt exactly like Freddy when he was about to tell a whopper: ‘Absolutely. Hilary’s always saying that if anything happened to her, I could run the house.’

‘Be a bit difficult to run a business like yours at the same time, wouldn’t it?’

‘If you ask me,’ said Mark, solemnly, ‘it would be virtually impossible.’

The meeting overran just long enough for him to miss the train home by three minutes. The holiday club closed at five, which was crazy if you were a working parent, and he wouldn’t get there until half past. He’d have to ring the emergency number and explain.

‘I see,’ said one of the helpers, who clearly didn’t. ‘Are you sure you can’t get back any earlier?’

Hadn’t he made his situation clear? ‘Not unless the train turns into a plane.’

‘Well, I suppose someone will have to wait, won’t they? But we won’t be able to do it again.’

Frosty. He shouldn’t have mentioned planes. But it was so frustrating sitting here at this rickety metal station table with an insipid cup of expensive coffee when he needed to be at home with the kids. It reminded him of an evening last year when Hilary had got back late from a conference in Leeds. She had missed a train too but he had been unreasonably cross at having to babysit instead of playing squash. Now he felt guilty. By the time he reached the holiday club, both kids were sitting outside on the steps, plastic lunchboxes at their sides. It was beginning to rain and Florrie’s hair was damp. If they got a cold, it would be his fault.

‘Where’ve you been, Dad? You’re really late.’

‘Where’s your supervisor?’

‘Gone. She had a date. I said I’d look after Freddy.’

Freddy stood up indignantly. ‘I don’t need looking after. When that tramp asked for money, I gave him a quid so he wouldn’t hurt us.’

Mark felt his armpits sweat. Oxford was full of down-and-outs, many high on heroin. ‘And he went away?’

‘Yeah.’ Freddy’s voice had the confidence of youth.

Cross with himself, Mark shepherded them into the car. ‘I’m going to complain. She promised to wait,’ he said.

‘Don’t!’ Florrie was horrified. ‘She’ll take it out on us. Anyway, it’s your fault for being late. Smell this, Freddy.’

‘Ugh! Dad, she’s just rubbed her hand under her armpit and held it in my face.’

‘No.
Stop!
Dad, he’s just rubbed his hand in his pants and he’s suffocating me with his stinking —’

‘That’s enough!’ Mark yanked the key out of the ignition. ‘See this? If you two don’t stop it immediately, I’m going to throw it as far as I can out of the window. Then we’ll have to walk.  Get it?’

‘Someone’s had a bad day,’ muttered Florrie.

‘Yes, I have. And I don’t want another word until we get home.’

It worked for a few minutes, and Mark drove slowly down the Woodstock Road towards Summertown, past the speed cameras to trap tense parents. What had got into him? Why couldn’t he have been more rational?

‘Dad?’

‘Yes?’

‘Why has Florrie got jam on her face?’

‘I don’t know. Why have you got jam on your face, Florrie?’

‘Bugger off, Freddy.’

‘
Florrie!
’ Mark swerved to avoid a red van racing him round the busy Headington roundabout.

‘He’s teasing me about my spots again, Dad.’

Spots? Jam. Little sod.

‘Freddy, you’ve just lost your pocket money.’

‘Aren’t you going to punish Florrie too?’

‘She hasn’t done anything.’

‘She’s lost her trainers.’

Safely on the other side of the roundabout, Mark glanced round. Florrie was barefoot. Why hadn’t he noticed? ‘What happened?’ he said, forcing himself to speak quietly.

‘I mislaid them.’

God, she sounded so like Hilary as well as looking like her. For some weird reason, she was much paler-skinned than Freddy, who was getting more and more like him.

Sometimes they seemed nothing like brother and sister and he knew people wondered occasionally if Florrie was really his. But that was genes for you: his father had been light-skinned too.

‘I lost my shoes when we were waiting for you. We were playing catch and they fell into the river.’

Mark’s mouth was dry. ‘But you were nowhere near the river.’

‘We went for a walk. You were so late and we were bored.’

For a brief horrible second, he had a vision of making an emergency call to Hilary to say there’d been a terrible accident . . .

‘I’m sorry, kids.’ He glanced in the rear mirror, palms sweating on to the steering wheel. They were both sitting still, waiting for him to go mental again. ‘It was my fault for missing the train.’

Florrie’s voice was almost inaudible. ‘You won’t tell Mum about it, will you?’

‘No,’ said Mark, quietly. ‘I won’t.’

13

Rowing in front of the children: can it be healthy?

Lisa felt so cross when she saw stuff like this. It almost put her off
What Mums Know
. In fact, it got her so mad that she just had to send off a reply even though it would make her late for work:

‘Rowing is reely bad for kids. Even babies can hear things before their born.’

Sometimes she wondered if that was why she’d lost Hayley.

Kevin hadn’t actually hit her, not that time, but he had scared her witless, the way his eyes had flashed and gone red and glittery. She’d locked herself in the toilet and sat, shaking with fear, not daring to come out until she heard the door slam. The next day the bleeding had started.

The doctor had said it would be better if she could cry. But the tears wouldn’t come. Then the doctor had said something about people being so upset that they bottled up the grief inside them, which wasn’t very good for them. Even going to mass, which she’d always done as a child with her mum, hadn’t helped much.

Do you want to turn off the computer?

Yes.

Lisa shut it down, touching the crucifix round her neck for luck. Sometimes she’d like to turn off her mind too. But she needed to get to work now or she wouldn’t get paid at the end of the week. She was doing extra shifts at lunchtime in that special-needs place next door because she needed the cash. Babies were expensive.

The nursery was already busy when she got there, and Mrs Perkins, the manager, had been sharp. As punishment, she’d been told to take Aaron to the toilet. Everyone hated that job. Aaron was meant to be potty-trained but he was always having accidents.

‘Miss Smith, I’ve got the floor wet.’

Lisa recoiled. How was Aaron going to cope when he went to big school if he couldn’t aim into the toilet? And now she was getting bigger it was difficult for her to kneel on the floor and mop up the mess. When she’d got the job of ‘auxiliary helper’, they hadn’t told her it involved that kind of thing. Nor had they told her it sometimes meant helping out at the special-needs centre next door, although she didn’t mind that. Poor kids. She felt sorry for them and their parents. When she thought of them, she always had to touch her crucifix to make sure nothing would be wrong with Rose when she was born.

Still, at least working at the centre meant she could pick up a baby. Lisa loved the smell of their soft skin. And the way they looked at her, as if they knew what she was thinking, melted her insides.

‘Come on, Aaron, wash your hands . . . That’s right.’

On the whole, the kids were sweet, like Daisy and Annie. But there were a couple of boys like Aaron who were what her mother would have called real little buggers. There were times when she felt like giving him a good hard smack. But you couldn’t. The rules were so strict nowadays. You weren’t even meant to give them a cuddle if they fell over, although Lisa had broken that rule a few times with Daisy and her other favourites.

‘Come on,’ said Lisa, sharply, and took Aaron back into the play area. Bloody hell, he stank of pee and she bet his mother hadn’t put a spare pair of pants in his bag. ‘Let’s do some reading, shall we?’

She’d spent last week helping them put up new posters on the walls with big bright letters to help the rising-fours learn to read. There was also a small slide, a sandpit, a Wendy house and several tables with crayons.

‘Mrs Smith, I can’t do up my laces!’

Lisa abandoned Aaron and knelt down beside Daisy to help. She loved it when the kids called her ‘Mrs’. She might have been a Mrs by now if Kevin had stayed. Then they would have been a proper family. She could see it now. Sometimes it seemed more real than the life she was leading. Her mother had always said she lived in Cloud Cuckoo Land, but what was wrong with that if it made you feel better? ‘I’ll show you again, Daisy. You always start with the right shoe, like, because it’s lucky. Then you cross this lace over the other and under the bridge.’

‘Thank you.’

She was wearing a cream and pink dress that Lisa had seen in the baby shop. Lisa smiled as Daisy’s warm little hand reached out to pat her stomach. ‘When’s your baby coming, Mrs Smith?’

‘Not yet, Daisy.’

‘But when?’

‘Daisy, over there now, please. To the counting table,’ said another voice.

Lisa hadn’t realised that Mrs Perkins was so close.

‘Lisa, can I have a word? Over here, in the corner . . . Thank you. I heard what Daisy said and I must say I’ve been wondering myself. Are you expecting by any chance?’

She nodded, beaming. It was so
good
when people said that.

But Mrs Perkins didn’t look thrilled. ‘And can I ask when you’re due?’

‘I’m not sure. My dates are a bit confused. I’m waiting for another scan.’

Mrs Perkins pursed her lips. ‘I see. Well, I’d appreciate it if you can let me know as soon as possible.’

Lisa straightened the puzzle on the desk. ‘It won’t be for a while.’

‘Right.’ Mrs Perkins looked relieved. ‘You’re very popular with the children, especially the girls. And you’ve got a knack with them, more so than many other assistants we’ve had.’

‘Ta.’

Mrs Perkins sniffed. ‘So don’t let me down. Will you?’

‘Hiya, Tabs, how you doing?’ said Lisa, cheerfully, as she put the plate on the table. ‘Look! Your favourite. Pasta with cheese sauce. Hang on a minute, Danny, I’m just coming. Hungry, are you?’

‘Did you get what you wanted the other day?’

‘What?’ Lisa hadn’t realised Tabitha’s mother was at the table too. ‘Oh, yes. Sort of.’

She turned away, embarrassed. She’d remembered how the woman had seen through her fib about the man in the shop.

‘You know, I’ve brought Tabitha up on my own – it’s all right, no one else can hear us. I just thought it might help. My name’s Susan, by the way.’

Lisa was tempted to tell her that it wasn’t any of her business. But the woman’s kind face softened something inside her. ‘It’s not what you think,’ she found herself saying. ‘I’m not really on my own.’

‘That’s good.’ Susan clearly didn’t believe her. She patted Lisa’s arm briefly. ‘Have you got friends and family to help you?’

‘Loads.’ Lisa beamed. ‘I’m really lucky.’

‘Good.’ Susan seemed relieved. ‘I’ve got my dad. He’s been great but it’s not quite the same.’ She sighed and her eyes took on a faraway look. ‘Oh, well, I’d better get on with helping Tabs eat her lunch. Whoops. Too late. I’ll get a cloth.’

It had been a long day. Lisa hadn’t fancied supper earlier but now her stomach was making weird noises. In one way, she felt hungry but she also knew she could force anything down. Not with tomorrow nearly here.

August 15th. Hayley’s birthday. She counted on her fingers. September, October, November, December. Just four months to go until her
What Mums Know
little bear’s wish came true. Sky’s birthday was January 9th and she would be eighteen months now, although if Hayley hadn’t existed, Sky wouldn’t have happened. Lisa knew the dates off pat and could work out exactly how old they would be now. A woman in a flat below her had had a baby when she should have had Hayley. The kid was nearly three now, and every time Lisa saw it, she felt resentful.

Keep their memories alive, like the voices in her head told her to do. It couldn’t do any harm, she reasoned. A bit like touching wood and walking round cracks in the road. And it had all worked because now she had Rose to look forward to. Rose who would love her in a way that no one had ever loved her before. Lisa sighed with satisfaction as she thought of everything waiting in the spare room. The lovely white frilly cot in the corner with the pink and white sheep mobile that played ‘Brahms’ Lullaby’. Music was so important for a baby’s development. She knew that already, even though Julie of Eastbourne had been banging on about it on
What Mums Know
. She’d also found a nice bouncing cradle too from a car-boot sale last month; the movement made babies go to sleep, again according to Julie, who sounded like a right know-all. And she’d got stacks of nappies from the chemist, who was selling stuff off cheap before he closed down, and a plastic changing mat with more pink sheep.

She was going to be the perfect mother.

Lisa thought of everything she had learned from her online babycraft classes. They were really good even though nappies were called ‘diapers’.

‘Shut up!’

‘No, you shut up.’

Lisa thumped the lounge wall angrily. Kiki was so noisy. How would Rose sleep if Kiki was going to go on like that? Someone on the other side thumped back and flakes of plaster floated down. She’d definitely have to ring the council tomorrow in her lunch break. In fact, after Rose was born, maybe she should get out of here. They could live somewhere nice, like Oxford. She had been there once on a school trip – lots of shops, a nice river and stuff.

Thank heaven, the shouting had stopped. It was getting darker, too, so she must have dozed off. The computer clock said it was six minutes to twelve but it was five minutes slow.

60, 59, 58, 57 . . .

Midnight.

Outside, someone started yelling again and glass shattered. Lisa stood up stiffly, and took the little pink and white cake out of its packet. Three candles. Carefully, she lit each one.

‘Spontaneous abortion,’ the ginger-haired doctor had called it. Lisa had told him what she thought of that. An abortion was something you
chose
to do, not something that hit you smack in the face and ruined your life. And when she looked up ‘spontaneous’ on the computer dictionary, it turned out to be something nice that you did on the spur of the moment. Didn’t these people have
any
feelings?

‘Happy birthday, Hayley.’ She blew out the candles with gentle puffs. One, two, three. ‘Happy birthday, my lovely daughter.’

Reverently, she got out the rosary beads she’d had since she was a child. A special kind of peace flooded through her as though they were restoring order to her life. ‘Hail, Mary, full of grace. . .’

Lisa smiled to herself when she’d finished. It would be all right now.

EMAIL FROM GEORGIE CRAWFORD

Hi Annabel, Hope this reaches you in some cyber café wherever you are. Miss you loads. Ben’s OK but Mum and Dad still arguing. Got five goals in the match last week and met this cool boy on the train. Don’t tell Mum.

EMAIL FOR LISA SMITH

For the urgent attention of Mrs L. Smith. Congratulations! You have won first prize in the lottery sweepstakes. All you have to do is fill in your bank details below . . .

EMAIL FOR MR F SUMMERS

Dear Mr F. Summers,

Thank you for your recent email. We can assure you that we did not intend to confuse customers by placing a ‘smiley face’ on our vitamin tablets. I am also afraid that our company does not make ‘miracle spot cures’ for your sister.

WHAT MUMS KNOW

JOIN OUR ONLINE DISCUSSIONS ON:

Can a marriage survive an affair?

Disposable nappies or terries? The debate continues.

TIP FROM FRAN 3

Can’t get hold of your kid on his mobile phone? Make sure you’ve got a list of his friends’ numbers so you can ring them to find out where he is.

CHUCKLE CORNER FROM MAD MUM

FIVE THINGS A MAN KNOWS ABOUT A WOMAN

1

2

3

4

5

THOUGHT TO KEEP YOU SANE FROM BIG MUM

This time next week, today won’t seem so bad.