‘But you… you can’t.’ I pictured Poppy’s solemn, narrow face and Ava’s trusting, big blue eyes and it felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach.
Fear spiked through me as it suddenly dawned on me that she was completely serious and that no matter what I said, she wasn’t going to listen and there was nothing I could do about it.
‘Alice, please, think of Poppy and Ava. They’ll be so upset.’
‘I can’t think like that. It will crush me. I’ve put them first all my life. Don’t put pressure on me. Jon says my spirit is fragile and I need to fly. I have to do this, Claire.’
And with that she hung up.
I stared with dismay at my phone and at first tried to call her back but I disconnected the call. It was a waste of time; she probably wouldn’t answer. I tried to stifle the sudden wave of panic and the uncomfortable tightness in my chest. What was I going to tell Poppy and Ava? How did you tell a child her mother had turned her back on her? How was I going to manage their heartbreak? Heat stained my cheeks as a small, rapidly growing ball of fury ignited. Both Ash and Hilda were looking at me.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘Has something happened to Alice?’
‘You could say that.’ I ground the words out through gritted teeth. ‘She’s gone stark staring mad.’ I pushed harried hands through my hair and tugged at my ponytail, stifling the urge to punch something. ‘Basically, she’s doing a runner. She’s not coming back.’
‘Fuck,’ breathed Ash. ‘That’s…’
‘How extraordinary,’ said Hilda, her forehead concertinaing into a dozen furrows. ‘I freely admit I probably wouldn’t have won any mother-of-the-year awards…’ Her mouth turned downwards. ‘Something I regret now, but I would never have waltzed off and abandoned all responsibility. Surely she’s coming back eventually?’
‘I’ve no idea. I don’t think she knows.’
‘What will you do?’ asked Ash.
‘What can I do?’ They would have to stay with me at least until Mum and Dad came back. And Alice had to be back by then, surely.
‘Those poor, gorgeous girls… What on earth are you going to tell them?’
I bit my lip hard as I took a couple of steps towards the bench and then wheeled away before turning back again. What was I going to tell them? Where did I even start? How did you tell a ten and a six-year-old that their mother had had enough of them, which was the stark reality of the matter? Could I lie and tell them she’d had a nervous breakdown? That she was ill? Nausea burned at the back of my throat. Alice had always been a free spirit but I’d never thought she’d do something like this.
‘What do I tell them?’ I turned bleak eyes to Hilda and lifted my shoulders in hopeless defeat. ‘What a mess.’
‘It is,’ agreed Hilda, before surprising me by adding, ‘And poor Alice.’
‘Poor Alice?’ I echoed in disbelief.
‘I’m sure she hasn’t come to this decision lightly. She’s been putting off calling you for the last few days. You should be proud of yourself for helping her. You gave her a rescue package and she’s seized it with both hands. She’ll come around eventually; you just need to give her time.’
I stared at Hilda, still too furious with Alice to raise the least bit of sympathy for my selfish, thoughtless sister.
Hilda smiled at me. ‘I know. I know. You think she’s selfish and thoughtless. It’s written all over your face. But there are always two sides to every story. Perhaps she’s just not cut out to be a mother. She was very young when she had Poppy. Maybe she does need a break and some contemplative time.’
It was a pinprick in my balloon of fury, letting some of it leak away so I wasn’t about to explode but I still didn’t buy it. Yes, Alice had had it tough over the last few years but she’d been supported by our parents, and by me to a lesser extent.
‘You’ll have to go the meeting without me,’ announced Hilda. ‘I’ll be on babysitting duty.’
‘Oh, Hilda, you don’t need to do that.’
‘I think we need to show the girls that there are people around who they can count on, don’t you? Especially with their grandparents being away at the same time. And being purely practical, dear, someone has to and you’ve already made the contact with the Harriers chap and the Blenkinsop man.’ She broke off before musing, ‘Hmm, I used to know a Harry Blenkinsop. Lived on Church Street. Not a particularly common name.’
‘It would be quite handy for me,’ said Ash.
‘Oh well that’s just dandy,’ I snapped wanting to lash out at someone. ‘I’m glad someone’s pleased.’
‘I meant,’ his eyes flashed with exasperation, ‘I could leave Bill with Hilda and the girls this evening while we’re at the meeting. That will cheer Poppy up. I don’t like leaving him for too long and I’ve…’ He paused with the sort of shifty expression that left you in no doubt that he was up to something that he didn’t want us to know about. ‘I’ll be out,’ he glanced away, ‘for the rest of today.’
‘Where are you off to?’ asked Hilda, completely ignoring his obvious body language, the fidgeting, fixed gaze on the dog’s ears and him tugging at his beard.
On any other occasion I might have laughed at Ash’s indignant frown. ‘Into Leeds.’
‘What for?’
Hilda had no shame and I loved her for it.
‘Never you mind,’ snapped Ash with a flash of the old, superior arrogance. He rose with fluid grace. ‘I’ll meet you at Claire’s house with Bill this evening at six.’
‘Excellent idea,’ said Hilda before I could speak. ‘I’ll cook dinner for Poppy and Ava. I think I’ll do my famous French toast and bacon. Have you got any maple syrup, Claire?’
‘See you later.’ And with that, Ash walked quickly away. I watched him go, not sure if the hollow leaden feeling in my chest came from feeling cheated of the Ash I’d once known or my sister’s bombshell. What I did know was that the main thing I needed to focus on was what the hell I was going to tell the girls.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Come on, you.’ Hilda hauled herself to her feet. ‘We need cake and neat espresso, preferably with a vodka chaser. Although I doubt Sascha serves alcohol at this hour.’
We found a spot in The Friendly Bean on the veranda at the front where bistro tables and chairs were set up facing towards the bandstand and the formal gardens. ‘I’ll get these,’ said Hilda. ‘You sit there.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ I said, although, to be honest, my legs were a little wobbly and I was grateful to collapse onto one of the chairs.
‘Claire, you buy my coffee every day, you feed me at your house, and…’
‘And you’ve just donated three thousand pounds.’
‘That’s for the community, not you.’ Her haughty Lady Bracknell rebuff brought a sorry smile to my face. So I sat and did as I was told, nibbling at my thumbnail and studying the splodges of colour in the distance. The municipal nursery men had been busy laying out bright flowers in uniform bursts of colour – red geraniums, orange nasturtiums and yellow marigolds interspersed with borders of white petunias.