She blinked in the sunlight.
‘Alice!’ Until she opened the door, I hadn’t really believed she’d be there.
‘Claire! What are you doing here?’ Her words were slurred with sleep and possibly something else. ‘You’d better come in.’ She stepped back to invite me in.
‘Is Poppy here?’
‘Uh, God.’ Her eyes closed and it seemed to take an awful lot of effort for her to open them again. She pulled a weary face. ‘She was.’
‘What! Was? Where is she?’
‘Dunno. She woke us up, shouted a lot, and then ran off. God, I need another coffee.’
‘Alice!’ I grabbed her shoulders and shook her, blanching at the stale breath that hissed out of her mouth. ‘This is serious. Poppy is ten. Where did she go? What did you say to her?’
Alice stepped back, her eyes sliding away from mine.
‘What did you say?’
‘Stuff.’ Her eyes still wouldn’t meet mine. ‘Things. I can’t really remember. What was she doing here? You’re supposed to be looking after them.’
Typical Alice, pushing the responsibility back onto someone else.
I saw Ash clenching his fists by his side and thought for a second that Alice was very lucky that he hadn’t punched her – although, there was still time yet and I was first in line. I knew I was taking the wrong tack with her, but I was so angry I couldn’t help myself.
‘Yes, because you’re allegedly in India!’
She waved a hand and swayed on the spot before turning and weaving her way into the kitchen. ‘Problem with visas and shit. We had to get out for a while.’
I followed her, knowing that she was quite capable of weaselling away at any minute. Anything to avoid facing up to her problems… which, I realised with a flash of insight, was why I was so good and so keen to solve them all the time, because I’d seen what happened when you ducked them. It made things far worse.
‘Oh my God,’ I blurted out, at the sight of my mother’s normally pristine kitchen. Every surface was covered in dirty dishes, foil takeaway trays, and spilled food. ‘Mum will kill you.’ How could she show so little respect? This was our parents’ home.
‘Chill, sis. I’ll clean up before they get back. They’ll never know we were here,’ she pushed her face into mine, ‘unless you, steady Eddie, tell them.’
I stared at her and for the first time saw her as she really was. For years I’d thought she was a bit spoiled, a bit of a free spirit, and probably a product of my parents letting her get away with things. I’d thought she needed help, so I’d helped. Bought the girls’ uniforms, cut garden hedges, taken her to the supermarket when the girls were little, all the while hoping that she’d grow up one day and start taking some responsibility for herself and for her children’s lives.
Looking at the state of the kitchen, I realised that Alice neither wanted nor needed help.
The trashed kitchen. This was deliberate desecration. There was a touch of spite about it. It was a deliberate kick back. She knew how much Mum loved this room.
‘You really don’t care, do you?’ I thought of Janie and Penny’s opinions. The headteacher’s diplomatic comments.
Alice lifted her thin shoulders and stared back at me, defiance and mockery twisting her lips.
‘Not much, no.’
Ash exchanged a quick, shocked glance with me, his eyes full of pain.
I felt cold and numb inside but I had to ask, ‘What about Poppy and Ava?’ Her eyes narrowed to gleaming, malicious slits. ‘Oh Claire, you’re so fucking holier than thou. “What about Poppy and Ava?”’ Her tone was a cruel mockery of mine. ‘What about them? What about me? Yeah, what about me? I didn’t ask to get pregnant. Imagine the best years of your life wasted in breast feeding, nappies, sleepless nights… and where were you? Swanning off to work in your natty suits thinking you were better than me. Popping round and babysitting so that I could get some fucking sleep. Being the saviour… oh you bloody loved that, didn’t you. Helping. Being the superior one as usual. Showing me what a fuck-up I was.’
I lost it then, realising she was twisting things to suit her version of reality. ‘No! That’s not true and you know it,’ I yelled, feeling an odd sort of freedom in letting it all out. ‘You always asked for help. Whenever you messed up, you asked someone else to sort it out. When you were pregnant, you asked for my help. Remember the morning of my first A-level exam? You had choices then. Adoption. Abortion.’ I tossed the words at her lightly although my heart clenched at the thought of never having Poppy in my life. ‘You asked me what to do. And I told you: tell Mum. You didn’t… you left it and left it and left it and then it was too late to do anything. And then Mum offered to help if you decided to have the baby. And you took the easy way out. You chose to have those babies. And now you don’t like it.’
‘I want a life!’ she screamed back at me. ‘I deserve one. I’m sick of having to do stuff. The school’s always on my case. The other mums look down on me. It’s shit and I hate it. There’s never any time to myself. It’s like being on duty your entire life… and I’ve had it! I want my life back.’
‘What about their lives?’
‘I’m sure you’ll be much better at playing mum than I am,’ she sneered. ‘Rushing here and being all like, “Where’s Poppy? Where’s Poppy?”’
I thought I might be sick but her words were a salutary reminder.
‘Oh God, what did you say to her?’
Alice pursed her mouth and her eyes slid away from mine again.
‘What did you say?’
Next to me, Ash stiffened and his hand squeezed mine. That silent, strong solidarity. A man I could rely on. My heart filled with gratitude and love, so much love.
She huffed and turned her head away, pulling at a pack of cigarettes on the side before tugging one out and lighting it. Taking a deep drag, she blew out the smoke in a long, slow puff. ‘Kid told me off. Said I was mean and a liar. Why wasn’t I in India rescuing people? Grateful there, Claire, that you made out I was Mother Theresa or something. I told her I needed some time away. Like being at school… I was taking my six-week holiday. She asked when I was coming back.’
I winced, feeling sicker than ever. ‘What did you say?’
Finally, Alice looked ashamed. ‘Look, there’s no point pulling punches. I’m not coming back any time soon. She needed to know the truth. You can hand them over to Mum and Dad. They’ll be better off with them.’ Her face flickered and I saw something else, something that broke my heart. ‘Let’s face it, Claire, I’m not a good mother. The school, they were talking to social services. Neglect, for Christ’s sake. They’ll be better off without me.’ She lifted her chin but, behind the façade, I saw the bravado. I stepped forward, instinctively wanting to help. To offer to work out a solution, so that she could stay with the children but make her life easier. Ideas were flashing through my head: maybe I could have the girls every weekend to give her respite, maybe I could…
And then I realised it was the same old pattern.
I softened my voice, realising that, deep down, she did care and that she was a little bit broken at the moment. ‘Are you sure?’