‘I know! She’d look like a snake when it swallows a mouse.’
Clarice snorted again and blinked back the remaining tears.
‘Have you thought what you’re going to do?’ Becky asked.
Clarice shook her head. ‘If I keep the baby then my parents will make me go away and give it up. If I refuse to have it adopted then I’d never be able to come back here. I’d have to leave my job and I’d be all alone. And either way I’ll have ruined things with Steve.’ Tears welled up again. ‘My boyfriend. We’ve only been seeing each other a couple of months, but it was going so well.’ Her bottom lip wobbled. ‘I love him.’
Becky passed Clarice another tissue and waited for her to dry the latest bout of tears. ‘Ms Barry.’ Becky laid her hand lightly on top of Clarice’s. ‘Whatever you decide to do, I know it’s not going to be easy. But—’
‘No. You don’t know that.’ Clarice snatched her hand away and swiped at her tears with the sodden tissue. ‘You can’t know the first thing about what I’m going through.’ She sniffed. ‘Unless by some miracle you’re also a single mother who got knocked up by her cousin’s fiancé?’
Becky shrugged. ‘Well, he wasn’t my cousin’s fiancé, but otherwise, yes. Actually, I went one better because my Prince Charming turned out to be already married.’
Clarice’s lips parted, her frown vanishing as her jaw dropped. ‘You’re joking?’
‘Nope.’ Becky smiled. ‘And, if you’ll let me, I’d like to help you. I have a fair deal of experience solving other people’s problems and getting them what they want. I think you deserve that kind of help. Sure, you made a mistake. But who hasn’t?’
Clarice drained the last drop from her cup and stared into its depths, as if hoping to find a better future spelled out in the tea leaves.
Becky’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and frowned.
‘Is everything all right?’ asked Clarice.
‘Yes … It’s just … A friend is doing me a favour and I’m … You know what, it’s not important.’ She stood and offered Clarice a hand up. ‘I think you’ve done brilliantly to get through today. But why don’t you sneak off now and put your feet up?’ In her pocket, her phone started to vibrate again. Ronnie must be livid. ‘I’ll call you a taxi. Please go home and get out of that dress. If it’ll help, burn it.’
Clarice giggled and Becky smiled. If you could make someone laugh, you were halfway to getting them to like you.
‘Here’s my phone number.’ Becky slid a piece of paper into Clarice’s hand. ‘Give me a call in the next few days. How about I take you out for more tea and some cake? I know the perfect place. And there’s not much a good cup of tea can’t fix. Trust me.’
Chapter 7
On Monday, as the sun woke her by warming her face, Becky smiled and rolled away from the light onto the cool, smooth side of the pillow. She listened to the latch click downstairs and Dylan’s laughter as he was lifted into the car. His grandparents, who knew no fear, were taking him to an early soft play session at the leisure centre. She marvelled at their foolhardiness: the South Compton mothers at those things were often toxic, at best tetchy. And the children of the worst ones were biters.
Sighing at the blissful prospect of a rare lie-in, she stretched her feet down to the bottom of the mattress and pulled the duvet over her neck, right up to her earlobe. She would drop Lauren an email later to see whether Charlie was applying for a restraining order against her. But for now she would treat herself to one hour of quality dozing.
Cocooned in a marshmallow of freshly washed bedding—her mum was an angel—she smiled again and relaxed deeper into the wall-to-wall peace and heavenly aroma of warm buttered toast.
The doorbell shrilled.
Becky groaned and flung the duvet away. She guessed even angels forgot things occasionally, including their copy of the house keys.
She blundered downstairs, shoved her feet in the general direction of her slippers, missed and stubbed her big toe on the skirting board. Her howl of pain and subsequent swearing were partly covered by a more persistent ring of the doorbell. Becky swiped at the door latch, praying she’d be able to hand over the keys and take her stinging toe back to bed in under a minute.
But rather than her parents, Becky found Phoebe shuffling on the doorstep, bouncing out of her turquoise ballet pumps.
‘Hi!’ Phoebe said, lifting her fingers in an unnecessary wave.
‘Morning.’ Becky squinted in the sunlight and adjusted her grey flannel robe to cover the cartoon bears on her pyjamas. She lifted a hand to her hair. If she’d known anyone other than her parents would be at the door she’d have paused to drag a comb through it.
As Phoebe glanced down at her nightwear and fluffy slippers Becky fought the desire to run back into the house and hide under the duvet. This was why she hated surprises. Success in her job meant appearing unflappable. And while she couldn’t read Phoebe’s mind, she guessed squealing, swearing and appearing in front of a potential client in pyjamas decorated with bears holding hearts proclaiming ‘I love you Mum’, suggested ‘crazy lady hanging in there’ more than ‘composed professional’.
Phoebe bit her lip. ‘Sorry, I didn’t get you up, did I? Don’t kids jump on their parents’ heads at dawn or something?’
‘Usually. But his grandparents are taking care of him today. I was working all weekend.’
‘Oh.’ She glanced down at Becky’s feet again. ‘Good thing I didn’t manage to persuade Dad to come along!’
Becky imagined her face was as grey as her dressing gown and her eyes shot through with a colour similar to that rising in Phoebe’s cheeks. Right at this moment she couldn’t be gladder Charlie hadn’t been talked into joining his daughter’s impromptu visit. He likely already thought she was an interfering witch; no need to reinforce the belief by appearing hag-like. ‘Hmn. I’d say you’re right about that.’ She opened the door a little wider. ‘Is everything OK? Do you want to come in?’
‘No, no, everything’s fine. I can’t stay long, I have to get to school.’ She motioned behind her to where Charlie’s car was parked on the street. ‘Dad sent me.’
What? Becky raised her eyebrows.
‘Er, actually, he told me to call you.’ She took a nip at her thumbnail. ‘But I thought I’d drop by. I wanted to thank you again for helping me.’
Ah. That sounded plausible. ‘You’re welcome. Was your dad all right on Friday?’
‘He was!’ She beamed. ‘I didn’t think I’d see him ’til I got home from school, but he was waiting for me when I came downstairs, not looking too rough either. He was showered and dressed and he made me breakfast.’
Becky nodded, pleased Charlie had taken notice of her instructions.
‘And then,’ Phoebe said, ‘he apologised. He felt bad for forcing me to … How did he put it?’ She frowned, nudging her dad’s words down into her mouth. ‘Oh yeah, “ask for the help of a virtual stranger”. And he’s been in a good mood all weekend, and he went out for a really long run yesterday.’