The Good Mother (27 page)

So after planting a kiss on the lips of my beautiful, beautiful restored – and did I mention beautiful? – wife I go outside to talk to Lizzie. It’s a magical glowing afternoon – the sun is gently kissing the trees and little rays of light flirt with the golden leaves. Why have I wasted these years working in IT? I’ll live much more of an outside life with Suze now. Pavement cafés, field, fjords, whatever – just exploring and rejoicing our saved world together. Take her away from here, from dark inside thoughts. From loss.

By the time I reach Lizzie, I must have a big goofy grin on my face, so I try to tone it down a little. I think she remembers me from playing with Cara, but you never know, do you, with children, so I remind her who I am. Even then, she’s reluctant to come into our house, so I talk to her of cupcakes. She gives me her hand.

As I lead her up the path I’m oddly reminded of the wicked witch in the fairy tale, leading children to her fabled gingerbread house. I don’t know why. I can’t remember what happens to the children, but it’s nothing good. I shrug off the feeling and we step inside.

Chapter 68

Paul

When we get inside, it’s not how I left it. Suze has her apron on again and she’s sitting on the sofa. There’s a smile fixed on her face. A little tissue-papered package is on her knee. I don’t know what she’s done with the others.

Suze pats the sofa next to her.

‘Lizzie, isn’t it?’ asks Suze.

The little girl nods.

‘I’ve seen you skipping. You’re very good,’ Suze tells her.

I smile. Suze is lovely with children. Some women naturally are, even when the children aren’t their own.

Lizzie does a shy little smile and turns her face to one side, hiding it in her hair. Cute. Maybe we should try IVF after all, if we haven’t just made our own new child the old-fashioned way.

‘I think you knew my little girl, Cara, didn’t you?’ says Suze.

Lizzie nods.

‘Something very sad happened to her,’ Suze continues.

Lizzie nods again. ‘She died,’ says Lizzie, very matter-of-fact.

I flick a glance at Suze to see how she’ll react. The smile is still on her face. If that veneer helps her then so be it.

‘She did,’ Suze agrees. ‘She died. And we’re very, very sad.’

Lizzie nods sagely.

‘And sometimes when we’re sad, we do silly things, Lizzie. When I was out shopping – you like shopping, don’t you?’

Again Lizzie nods.

Suze nods too, establishing some joint understanding. ‘I knew you would. I thought when I was in the village earlier, I bet that little girl loves all these shops.’

Lizzie does a shy little giggle. She doesn’t know, like I do, that the little girl Suze was thinking of was Cara.

‘Now, guess what I bought back for a lucky little girl.’ Suze hands Lizzie one of the tissue wrapped packages.

Lizzie opens it eagerly. It’s the charm thing. The crystal creature on it is a little sheep, I see now. Obviously enthralled, Lizzie stares at it in her hands, turning it over and over.

‘Isn’t it lovely, Lizzie? I’m sorry Cara can’t have it, but you’re a very lucky little girl.’

She nods. ‘Yes, I am. Thank you very much Mrs Cara’s mum.’

Suze ruffles Lizzie’s hair, like she used to with Cara. Lizzie giggles. I wonder what’s happened to the other presents. Did Suze want to keep them for herself?

‘Now, Lizzie, if you can believe it, you’re an even luckier little girl, because I’ve got more little presents just like that in Cara’s room for you. You’d like to see them, wouldn’t you?’

Lizzie nods. What are the presents doing in Cara’s room? Maybe Suze couldn’t bear to give them away without seeing them in situ first.

Suze takes Lizzie’s hand and leads her to Cara’s room. I trundle along behind, feeling a bit redundant. I remember I used to feel this way when I first came to stay with Suze and Cara. The mother–daughter relationship already established.

In Cara’s room, the other tissue-papered items are laid out on Cara’s old bed. Nestling on the pillow is the soft sheep toy Suze and Craig bought for Belle, and was passed on to Cara. If Lizzie wonders why the room is bare of other toys she doesn’t say anything; perhaps she’s distracted by the hope of more crystal animals.

Suze bends down to speak to Lizzie.

‘And once you’ve opened those, the cupcakes will just about be ready to eat. Would you like one?’

‘Yes, please!’ chirps Lizzie.

‘Open up those little surprises quickly then!’ says Suze.

Suze stands up to her full height again and gives me a ‘thank you for indulging me’ smile. I wink at her.

‘There’s a little surprise for you in the bedroom too,’ Suze whispers to me.

‘I like the sound of that,’ I say, hoping Lizzie is too distracted by the kitten handbag to notice me flirting with my wife. And, even if she does notice, who cares – I don’t care who hears my joy that the whole of our marriage will be resumed.

‘I didn’t mean that, silly – perhaps later! But for now, go on, toddle along there and see what you find. You know, in the room you kept me in.’

A bit disappointing that she hasn’t put the surprise in our bedroom; that would be more alluring. But there’s no malice in her reference to the room I held her in. So, with another kiss, I do as she says and wander off along the corridor. In the centre of the bed, there is a tissue-packaged item. Before I start to unwrap it, I want to savour this moment. This moment that shows Suze’s kindness towards me. I want to savour the warmth of feeling love, reconciliation and gladness. It surrounds me like the hug that I want to give Suze later. Not a sex hug, just a hug. A hug that means: we know each other now, totally, and we will cherish that.

Peace. Happiness. Love.

Of course we will miss Cara. We will mourn Cara. Every day I will feel guilt, whether I ought to or not. But so will Suze. We will feel everything together.

I move to unwrap the present. I hear Cara’s bedroom door shut. They must have finished looking at Lizzie/Cara’s presents. They’ll be coming through here next, then, or maybe going to the kitchen for cupcakes. Better open up my present so I can seem as grateful as I am.

The soft tissue paper almost unwraps itself beneath my fingers. The layers fall away, opening up to reveal a beautiful grey silk tie. I unfold it and stroke it. It’s almost exactly the same as the tie I wore for our wedding. Tears form in my eyes. It’s so delicate, but woven together so strong. Like us. I know what it means. It means we can truly begin again.

I see something flutter to the floor. Must be a receipt. I shouldn’t look. I should crumple it up and consign it to the bin.

But I want to know. I want to delight in how much Suze has lavished on me. Despite everything. Because of everything. I bend down and pick it up.

It’s not a receipt at all. It’s a note. From Suze.

I smile as I see her handwriting.

But then I read the words.

‘I will never forgive you.’

I freeze.

Something grips my heart. It must do, because I’m sure it’s stopped beating.

And then those same words spoken, behind me.

‘I will never forgive you.’

I turn round to see Suze standing in the doorway.

With the gun.

Then, before I can react, she closes the door.

And locks it from the outside.

Her footsteps retreat.

‘Suze? Suze!’

Nothing.

I’m alone.

Surely …

No.

She can’t have done!

A taste of my own medicine?

No. No! We’re starting afresh, it’s fine, she loves me, the world is ours.

But I see the words of the note again in my hand. Stark, black against white. The message is clear.

Then it hits me.

The girl. What about the girl?

Chapter 69

Suze

And so, there we have it. The plan I conceived now brought to life.

My happy little girl, playing in her room.

She won’t play outside again. Can’t have that. I expect she’ll want to. But she’ll learn. And if she doesn’t – well, she’s got the new skipping rope in there with her. Like Paul has his tie. If he gets desperate.

Because I knew, when I saw her playing outside her window after I learnt what I learnt about Cara, that this other little girl was made for me. That she was brought by fate. I didn’t quite understand how, at first. I needed my thinking time. I needed to test my brain, my emotions, to make sure they were working correctly. Hence the walk to the shops. And, of course, I suspected I wouldn’t be going out and about again for quite some time. Because I can’t leave them here, now, can I? Not my new family. Plus I needed all the gifts, didn’t I? The draw. To supplement the cupcakes.

And I’m true to my word. There will be cupcakes. For my new little daughter. My little Lizzie. Frosted with my own fair hands. Not for Paul. He can starve, for all I care. Or put his new tie to good use. Because there’s not much hope of escaping from that room otherwise. I know. I’ve been there. And I had someone to escort me to and from the bathroom. And bring me food. Sorry, Paul. But those are luxuries you don’t deserve.

Never mind him though. He is not my prime concern now. He had to trust me. That is all. If I’m pregnant again, after that last liaison, so be it. If I have to see his face close to mine when I shut my eyes, even to blink, on the occasions I don’t see Cara or Belle, then so be it. If my spine continues to shiver at the thought of his touch, so be it. That changes nothing. We are done.

All I must think about is you, my new daughter. We’ll be so happy together. I’m longing to tell you how much I love you already. Maybe I will tell you. Maybe I’ll write to you. And I can ask you to put on that lovely little outfit I laid out for ghost Cara. Complete with cat buttons on the cardigan. There’s no hurry, though. I know where you are. I’ll always know where you are.

Safe, here, with me.

I’m thinking already of the fun things we can do together, even from the confines of the house. All the things my practice daughter couldn’t do with me in the end. The teenage shopping trips. The boy chats. The champagne afternoon tea in town. The shopping, we can do online. The boy chats we can do using Tinder – which way will you swipe? And the champagne afternoon tea can of course be on a tray, right inside your own room. We might have to start soon. Accelerate the programme. I don’t want to miss all that again.

Oh hush, little baby, please don’t cry. Mummy will sing you a lullaby. You’re safe, darling. Safe, here with me. I whisper that to you through the door, the locked door. Shhh, darling. Shhh. These are happy times. Crying subsides. Just the odd sob. Or perhaps that’s my own?

Your parents will worry, of course. Or rather, your former parents. They may even think they miss you as much as I miss my Cara. My Belle. But they don’t deserve you. Because they’re not careful enough. They haven’t learnt the lessons that I have learnt. How to be a good mother. One, keep your baby wrapped up in cotton wool. Two, never let them leave your sight. Three, no one else can be trusted. Four, with my new knowledge, I can get it right this time. Otherwise, what was the point of Cara dy—going? If I can’t learn from my mistakes. Remedy Paul’s mistakes.

And if the outside comes in to find me – well, they won’t find me. Or the other two. Because in the worst-case scenario, I have the gun. And I have the bullets. They’re reunited. The gun, too easy to find, in the bottom of our wardrobe. The little bullets were waiting for it in the base of the kitchen blender, the one I don’t use any more. And all of us will be reunited in heaven, or in the sodden earth, if need be. No one is taking my little girl away from me. Not this time.

And so just like that, I’m a mother again. I don’t know for how long. But I’ll savour it while it lasts.

CARINA™

ISBN: 978-1-474-04956-6

THE GOOD MOTHER

© 2016 A. L. Bird

by Carina, an imprint of HarperCollins
Publishers 
1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.