CHAPTER ONE
‘Want choc-pops. Not that!’ protests three-year-old Eva, rubbing her eyes and pushing the cereal bowl away.
I grab the bowl before it tips over, feeling exhausted myself after my sleepless night. I can’t blame my daughter, to be honest. The bargain basement cereal really doesn’t have much flavour; squares of soggy cardboard would probably be tastier. But try explaining about skin-tight budgeting to a grumpy three-year-old.
I pass her my slice of toast and butter.
‘Thank you, Mummy,’ she says, flashing her sunny, gap-toothed smile at me, which always melts my heart.
Eva has been unusually grizzly since she got up and I wonder if she’s sensing my mood. I’ve learned that children pick up far more than you imagine they do. Luckily, she sleeps soundly enough not to have been disturbed by our middle-of-the-night caller.
The phone rang in the early hours of the morning, startling me awake.
I thought it was Mum calling from Corfu and I rushed to answer it, leaning over to grab my mobile phone off the floor and knocking over a glass of water in the process. But the voice on the other end was far from the warm, familiar tones I was hoping for.
‘Molly, Molly, Molly…long time no see. Have you missed me?’
A cold hand squeezed my insides as I recognised the voice.
I sat upright, shivering in the darkness, forcing myself to listen politely to the drunken ramblings at the other end.
Why is he phoning me? It can’t be about the rent. It’s not due for another week.
‘Put the kettle on, there’s a love.’
I swallowed. ‘It’s…it’s two in the morning?’
‘Is it?’ He laughed. ‘Well, what’s a late night between friends? We are friends, aren’t we, Molly?’
I paused for a fraction of a second. ‘Yes.’
‘Good, because I’d hate to fall out with my favourite tenant. I’ll be round soon.’
‘No!’ I pulled the duvet up around me, frantically racking my brains to think of an excuse that would seem plausible. ‘I…the thing is, Eva’s not very well. Oh, she’s shouting for me. I’m sorry but I’ll have to go.’ My hand was shaking as I ended the call.
The phone rang again almost immediately but I closed my eyes and held my breath, wrapping my arms tightly round my stomach.
I let it ring…
*****
When we dash into her pre-school class a few minutes after nine, Eva announces to the teacher, in a voice as clear as a bell, ‘We’re late because my mummy was on the toilet for a long time.’
I wince as twenty-five pairs of curious eyes turn to gaze at me.
I look down at Eva. When it gets too much, the locked bathroom door is a saviour – except now I’m worrying that she might have heard me stifling the tears in there this morning. I’d been tense all night after the phone call, expecting the doorbell to ring at any moment. Thankfully, it didn’t, but I feel a bit of a wreck this morning.
Mrs Calloway, Eva’s teacher - possibly noticing my puffy-eyed, dishevelled appearance - flashes me a look of sympathy. But I brush it away with a grin and a brisk apology.
I suppose I should feel bad that we’re late – but to be honest, my only concern is for my daughter as I hunker down quickly with a bright smile. ‘Mummy was just a bit sad this morning. But I’m all right now. Shall we make pizza for tea later?’
‘With lots of cheese?’ She gives me that gap-toothed smile.
I nod. ‘Loads of cheese! You can sprinkle it on for me, okay?’
‘Okay.’ And she’s off, running over to her seat, Mummy already forgotten in the excitement of seeing her friends.
I hurry from the building, folding my arms tightly against the cold March wind and pausing for a moment at the school gates, my eyes darting around, scanning the street. The sense that I’m being watched is creeping over me again, although logically, I know it’s not true. It’s just a reflection of my state of mind right now.
But…
I take a deep breath.
From today, things will be different.
Today I’m starting work!
I couldn’t believe it when Fen offered me the job at her family’s café at Brambleberry Manor.
I’ve been helping Fen with the food bank deliveries since December, and it’s been a lifeline, to be honest, in terms of getting me out of the flat and escaping my thoughts for a little while. Fen and I clicked straight away and I feel so lucky to be able to count her as a friend now.
The voluntary food bank work has to be fitted around Eva’s nursery hours, but since January, she’s been attending pre-school, so now I have a little more time on my hands and can actually start earning again.
It was such an amazing moment when Fen offered me the job that I’ll probably always remember where I was when it happened. We were in Sam’s clunky old van, driving around the countryside delivering food boxes, when Fen mentioned that Marie had gone off on maternity leave so there was a vacancy, if I was interested. She said it in such a matter-of-fact tone that at first, I wondered if I’d misheard her. When I realised I hadn’t and she was actually offering me work, the relief was so great, I couldn’t speak, so I nodded instead. And when she saw how emotional I was, Fen got quite choked up as well.
Meeting the girls from The Little Duck Pond Café – especially Fen and Katja - has given me heart and made me realise there’s still genuine kindness in the world…and that not everyone I meet will demand something in return for their help.
I glance at my phone. Fifteen minutes to walk back to the flat, then time for a shower before I head out for my bus. Fen offered to collect me, as it’s my first morning, and drive me over to the café, but I told her I’d just get the bus along. I didn’t want to risk her arriving early when I wasn’t quite ready, because then I’d have to invite her in.
She’s never been inside the flat. I’ve made sure of that.
Knowing Fen, she’d be too kind to comment, but she’d see the cracked panel of glass in the flat’s front door. And I’d catch her eyes flicking over the bare, scruffy floorboards, the scant furniture, the peeling wallpaper and the spreading patch of black mould in the hallway next to the tiny shower room. She’d feel the penetrating cold and smell the damp.
I let myself into the main door of the block of flats. Made of dull red brick, they were built in the 1960s, and ‘serviceable’ is probably the kindest way to describe the building. It sits on the outskirts of Sunnybrook, overlooking a cement factory on the nearby industrial estate. I run up the stairs to our second-floor flat. It’s dark in the stairwell, the small windows letting in very little light, even on a bright, sunny day like today. The smell of damp hits me when I walk in. It’s an odour that clings stubbornly to our clothes, however much fabric softener I use.
But things are changing!
Fen has offered us a lifeline, and I haven’t felt so hopeful in a long time. This is going to be the start of a brand new life for Eva and me. If I save every penny I can from my earnings, I’ll eventually have enough for a rental deposit on a little place for Eva and me. A place where we can feel happy and at home. Warm and safe.
We’ll leave the dark days behind us.
And no-one ever has to know about Jaxon Savidge…