I switch the light back on and sit on the edge of the bed. I stroke Hannah’s hair and look at her face. ‘I know, darling,’ I say. ‘It’s all forgotten about now. Don’t be worrying.’
‘It was already broken. Alice said not to tell you. That you’d be cross.’
I feel my eyebrows involuntarily rise and although I want to abide by the best mother’s handbook and ignore the remark, I can’t help grilling my daughter a little further. ‘She did, did she? What else did she say?’
Hannah shrugs. ‘Nothing. Just said to leave it.’
‘Okay, well don’t be worrying about it now. It’s just a piece of glass that can easily be replaced.’ I settle Hannah back down. ‘Ooh, I just remembered. I asked Daisy’s mummy about her coming for a sleepover and she said yes.’
Hannah’s face lights up. ‘Yay! Can we paint our nails? What about watching a film?’
‘Of course. And popcorn.’
‘Thanks, Mum, you’re the best.’ Hannah snuggles down under her duvet and I’m relieved to be sending her off to sleep with happier thoughts. I just wish it was so easy to lift my own.
When Luke comes up to bed eventually later, I’m sitting up reading a book, or at least pretending I am.
‘All right?’ He says, going into the en suite. He doesn’t close the door and I watch him brush his teeth and splash water over his face. He runs his wet hands through his hair and I can’t help feel a surge of love for this man. I hate it when we’re on edge with each other. Luke doesn’t go in for big showdown arguments; he prefers to let things blow over and then talk about it when everyone is calm and more rational. He strips off down to his boxer shorts and climbs into bed next to me, reaches over and takes the book out of my hands. ‘Now, do you want to tell me what’s going on up there?’ He taps my head gently with his forefinger.
‘I don’t want us to fall out about all this,’ I say.
‘Neither do I, Babe. Look, today, that wasn’t down to me. Your mum invited herself and Alice along. What could I say?’
I close my eyes briefly. ‘I know. It’s just … Alice. Oh, God, this sounds so childish but … but it’s like she’s taking over everything. My entire family.’ It sounds so stupid when I say it out loud. In my head, it sounded very plausible, but now I’m starting to doubt myself. Then I remember the look on Hannah’s face and this spikes my resilience. I lean over and pick up our wedding photo, now frameless, and hold it out to Luke. ‘It’s the one that’s usually in the living room. I went in this evening and saw the glass was broken.’
Luke takes the photo from me. ‘Ah, that’s a shame and it’s creased too. I can get another printed off, it’s not a problem.’
‘I know that, but that’s not the point. The glass wasn’t just cracked like it had been knocked over, it had been crushed. You could see where something had been driven into it. The glass was shattered all around it.’
‘It could have fallen and hit something.’
I sit up and take the photograph back. ‘No, it couldn’t have. Or if it did, I have no idea what would have caused it to damage the actual photograph. No, this was done on purpose. Maliciously.’
Luke lets out a sigh and puts his head back against the headboard. ‘Please don’t tell me you think Alice did it.’
‘She tried to blame Hannah. She said Hannah was playing with the photos, or something, and when I asked Hannah, she said it was already broken, that Alice was in the room first and Alice told her not to say anything.’ I look triumphantly at Luke, as if I’ve solved a major crime ring.
‘Either could be telling the truth,’ says Luke.
‘Are you telling me you believe some stranger over your daughter?’
‘Stranger? She’s your sister.’
‘If that’s what she’s like, then I’d sooner she wasn’t.’ I throw the duvet off and get out of bed, grabbing my dressing gown. ‘And I don’t want you painting her fucking portrait either.’
‘So much for not arguing,’ mutters Luke as I storm out of the room, my dressing gown billowing like a sail behind me.
I resist the urge to slam the door as I don’t want to wake the children, so I strop across the landing instead and almost bump into none other than Alice. She’s leaning back against the banister that looks over the hallway below, her elbows rest on the top rail, one leg is bent, with her foot against a spindle. It’s as if she’s posing for a photo shoot – a sleazy one.
‘Jesus, Alice, you made me jump.’
‘Is everything all right, Clare? Only, I heard raised voices.’
I fasten the belt around the dressing gown and wonder how long she’s been standing there. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Just going to get a glass of water. You okay? Not still suffering with jet lag are you?’ I can’t keep the little note of sarcasm from my voice.
‘Oh, I’m fine, sister. Absolutely fine. I mean, why wouldn’t I be after such a lovely day with your girls and your husband?’ The smile that accompanies her words chills the air.
‘You stay away from my family,’ I hiss the words as loudly as I dare, without wanting anyone else to hear. Least of all Luke. He thinks I’m a crazy woman as it is.
The smile remains on her face and she pushes herself off the banister, taking a step closer to me. ‘Remember, Clare, your family is my family.’ Her words are a whisper.
‘Don’t. Take. Me. On.’ I punctuate each word with invisible full stops. ‘You’ll be sorry.’ I have no idea what that threat means, it just came out. I don’t wait for a reply and, sidestepping her, I take the stairs, which sweep around to the ground floor. I glance up as I reach the bottom and Alice is now leaning on the rails, looking down at me with that condescending smile still plastered on her face.
I get a glass of water and sip at it slowly in a bid to calm myself. I’m not sure what that was all about upstairs but I feel it was a game-changer moment. Both Alice and I have shown our true colours now.
I don’t know why but I feel myself drawn to Luke’s studio. I would never normally go into his studio on my own. I’ve never needed to. It’s Luke’s workspace. Sure, I go in there when he’s there himself, but never on my own. I hesitate, my hand on the door handle, but something drives me on and I ease open the door and step inside, closing it gently behind me. I walk slowly around the room, taking in the paints and canvases I have seen plenty of times before. There’s a pot of paint brushes standing on the draining board. The smell of white spirit hangs in the air and I see the bottle next to the brushes without its lid. The red lid is next to it and, instinctively, I replace the cap, turning it tightly before putting the bottle back on the draining board. There are oily rags in a basket next to the sink. They remind me of a kaleidoscope, the different colours merging into each other to form weird and wonderful psychedelic patterns.
As I wander around the studio, I can’t help feeling like an intruder.
In the centre of the room is the London commission he’s been working on. To my untrained eye, it looks complete and would grace any wall beautifully, but I know, to Luke, there is still much to do. It’s all in the detail, he often tells me.