‘Ava,’ hissed Poppy. ‘You’re being rude. Remember, Mum says sometimes you’re not supposed to tell people the truth.’
That sounded so typical of Alice. Why tell the truth when you could get away with the lie? Like telling Dad she’d used his money to pay for a gardener the other day.
Ava gave a disgruntled huff and put her pudgy, little hands on her hips in a housewifely fashion that had me hiding a smile. ‘Honestly, how am I supposed to know when to tell the truth and when to tell a lie?’
Poppy shrugged.
‘Why don’t I put it here?’ I said loudly, drawing both girls’ attention back to the picture and propping the gaudily splashed painting on the windowsill next to the lone, newly purchased basil plant.
Ava gave a regal nod of acknowledgement and Poppy shot me a brief smile, grateful to be spared further embarrassment from her sister. I poured them both a glass of juice and unearthed the mini-Crunchie bars from my secret hiding place. They looked so good I had to have one too.
While they were busy chomping their chocolate, I scooped up all the folded bits of paper, which turned out to be letters from the school about missing library books, overdue dinner money, a second request for money for a school trip to Harewood Bird Garden and a reminder about parent-teacher consultation appointments.
‘Have you got letters too, Poppy?’ I asked as the three of us sat at the kitchen table.
She nodded, shamefaced, and handed over a sheaf of more of the same. I quickly sorted them into piles of things I could do something about and things that could wait until Alice got back next week, and ones that were very overdue demands for money. I then sat and wrote a bunch of cheques while the girls drank juice and ate their Crunchies. Then I went through Ava’s book bag, which was full of rubbish and one letter dated three weeks earlier asking Alice to make an appointment to discuss Ava’s progress. I put that on the pile for Alice, making a mental note to bring it to her attention as soon as she got back.
What I needed was a to-do list. Once I’d started, everything seemed a lot clearer. I could do this.
Read with Ava
Spellings with Ava
‘Have you got any homework, Poppy?’ I asked, prompted by my list.
‘Yes, Maths.’ She pulled a face. ‘It’s hard.’
‘Do you want some help with it?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Mummy always says it’s my homework and I have to do it.’
‘Yes, but a little help will make it less hard,’ I suggested.
Her sudden beam warmed me. ‘That would be awesome, if you could.’
I added it to my list. ‘What other things do you need this week? PE kits? Library books? Anything else.’
‘PE is on Monday and Friday for me,’ said Poppy.
Predictably, Ava didn’t have a clue but luckily it was written in her planner.
I added everything to my growing list.
‘And it’s Stationery Club day on Friday, so I need fifty pence to buy a new ruler.’
‘An’ me. I need a new pencil sharpener and a pencil and a pen,’ added Ava.
By the time it was teatime, I’d put together a comprehensive list and timetable for the rest of the week. When I looked at it, I immediately felt calmer. See, I could do this. I just needed to be organised.
Over the next four days, I would work through the list and everything would run like clockwork. We would eat nutritious, homemade meals, the girls would have everything they needed for school, and I would get them there on time every morning. If I could just manage all this, I could show myself that I was getting back on track. Getting back to the smart, efficient, super-employee I once was.
Now, if only Alice would phone.
Chapter Eight
Day three of the school run and… well, I couldn’t say I’d completely nailed things on the domestic front but I was getting there. Having dropped the girls off at school, I was heading into Leeds to go the gym and hit the treadmill for some running practice.
It was weird being at the station at this time; I wasn’t used to travelling after nine. The emptiness of the platform made me feel slightly paranoid, as if people might be watching me and wondering why I was here at this time. Quickly, I boarded a waiting train which wasn’t due to leave for another ten minutes. As I sat there, my mind started ticking. What if someone from work saw me? What would I say to them? It didn’t look as if there was anything wrong with me. Would they think I was skiving? Would they pity me?
Just as the train was about to pull out, I grabbed my gym bag and jumped off, my heart beating so hard it felt like a jackhammer against my ribs. My vision went black for a second and I thought I might faint.
In the brisk spring morning, I watched the departing train, my heart racing and my body tense.
This was crazy. What was wrong with me? It was just a train. On Monday it had been the kitchen. Why was I overreacting to things so badly? Feeling self-conscious, I grabbed a coffee from the kiosk and scuttled out of the station. I would get the next train but I’d wait in the park.
As soon as I was through the gates, I picked up my pace and ducked off the main path into the little flower-filled garden with its two benches. Immediately I felt safe, tucked out of sight there, and when I sat down, I sank my head in my hands and concentrated on taking deep breaths, still a little scared by my ridiculous reaction on the train. It had frightened me. Surely, now I wasn’t at work I should be feeling better?
‘You’re here again. And ready to run.’
I opened one eye. Hilda.
I’d been trying mindfulness, the sort of thing that Alice lapped up.
‘No, not running but I’m… I’m on my way to… out.’ There was still time for me to go into Leeds. There was a spin class at eleven. I could, would, go to the gym, maybe after my coffee. Exercise would help. Endorphins. All that stuff. I just needed to get there.
I gave the old lady a weak smile. Today she wore an emerald-green tracksuit and was jogging on the spot with sitcom-style enthusiasm that at any other time might have had me biting my lips to stop a laugh escaping.
‘So if you’re not running, where are you off to in your black Lycra with your big bag? A cat-burgling mission? Is your bag full of tools? And a utility belt?’ Her face sharpened with interest. ‘Do you know how to pick a lock?’
‘No.’ I managed a laugh; she was outrageous. ‘But I sometimes think it would be handy.’
‘It is,’ said Hilda, her big blue eyes guileless. ‘Jolly handy. I’ll teach you some time. I used to break into my ex-husband’s house all the time. Move things round. Just to mess with him.’ She waggled her eyebrows naughtily.
I frowned, wondering if she was telling the truth or not. The woman was a little bit bonkers. ‘Unfortunately, much as I’d like to sound far more interesting than I am, I’m going to the gym.’ There, I’d said it out loud. It was like visualisation, wasn’t it? If I said it, I’d be more likely to get my brain in gear and go.
‘Why would you do something like that? How much do you pay for your gym membership?’ She tipped her head with bird-like interest, her wispy hair being pulled in all directions by the sharp spring breeze. Her direct approach prompted me to make a direct reply. Hilda’s straight talking was hugely refreshing.