as much to my boss and she didn’t seem very happy with me. Mumbled something about mums being exhausted all the time and ‘mental load’ – whatever that is. Does she not think I’m exhausted, taking care of her kids?
As I said – it’s one set of rules for them, and one set of rules for us.
But please, I’ll lose my job if anyone finds out I’ve been talking. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think I’m too awful. It’s just that this is exactly the way it is. And our rule would have been very clear. We would have been outside, all that time. Rain or shine. We would have been watching that poor little boy, and so really – he never would have fallen in the first place.
She wants, desperately, to go to the soft-play at The Vale Club. She’s trying to plan the day as best she can so that she’s busy but stress-free. After Tom had left for work, she’d managed to get Thea asleep, whilst Casper had been absorbed in endless rounds of that ghastly PAW Patrol. (She’d tried over and over to get the theme song out of her head but it’s there, like a sore tooth.)
She’d signed Casper up for a mini football class, giving herself at least an hour to concentrate on Thea, without Casper mooning all over her pram. And Sarah needs time with her own thoughts. Predominantly, in a moment of self-flagellation, to replay in her mind the events of yesterday.
She has enough sense to know that it isn’t going to help matters. She had thought, at six o’clock this morning, that it might go some way in soothing her twitching limbs, her thumping heart; but every time she revisited the look on Liza’s face as she realised her small boy was on the floor, Sarah started to feel as though she might pop. Ha! Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Perhaps then all her innards would slide out and she’d shrink to her ever-elusive target size ten – since Rosie, she’s managed to totally change shape. As she drinks her lukewarm tap water, she imagines herself back at the club. She should go now. Strike whilst the iron is hot. Get her fear over and done with, but she cannot. When she thinks about stepping foot into the place, her hands start to shake.
The idea of the investigation lingers on the periphery of her thoughts. She hasn’t been able to bring herself to look on The Vale Club Facebook group, to see what everyone is saying. People must be going mad. The group is active enough at the best of times – constant grumblings about the food taking too long, the towels being too scratchy, the lockers not being big enough. She can’t imagine what people would be saying about this.
She also can’t bring herself to tell Casper he’s not allowed outside. That she never, ever wants to see that wooden post again. Even if they removed it, the empty space would be a stark reminder of what had happened.
‘Casper?’ She walks into the living room to find him slumped on the sofa like a teenager. ‘Five minutes. OK?’
As the words fall out of her mouth, she knows full well she doesn’t mean them. Five minutes, in television time, would actually translate into an hour or more. Especially on days like today.
‘Where we going?’ he asks, eyes locked onto the screen.
‘I don’t know. Where would you like to go?’ She tries to leave the decision up to him, but he doesn’t answer, just plucks the material on his jeans. She doesn’t bother pushing it and leaves the room to check on Thea. She’s in her buggy, fast asleep. She remembers this time five years ago when Casper used to have his morning nap, manically using the precious moments to swipe crumbs off the counters, do a quick floor-sweep and hastily shove a piece of half-burnt toast in her mouth. She takes a picture of Thea’s heart-shaped face with her spiky black hair and sends it to Liza. She looks so peaceful. So like Jack had when he was that age. She wonders with a shrinking heart if Rosie would have looked like her brother.
All happy here, don’t hurry. Thinking of you. Her friend is offline. She scrolls down to Ella’s WhatsApp. Online. Her heart thuds. Should she? It’s a better option than going to The Vale Club. Yes. Why not? After all, they are tied now. Bound together in complicity.
Ella. Just wanted to check in. Wondered what you were doing today? Whether you wanted to meet up. Her hand hovers over the keyboard. Should she add something extra? Something about yesterday? No. Don’t be foolish, she thinks. She stands and stares at her phone, waiting for the message to be read. Two blue ticks appear on the screen.
‘Mummy,’ shouts Casper. ‘Mummy change the channel.’
‘Wait, darling,’ she shouts, shaking her handset in the hope it might elicit some sort of response from Ms Bradby. Her teeth clamp together. Nothing. But then she has an idea.
Or – just thinking. Don’t suppose you’d like to come with me to do a shop for Liza? It isn’t that she wants to deliberately trap Ella into replying. But she had planned to buy stuff for when Liza and Jack got home.
Can’t today, comes the reply. Got plans, but I’ve sorted something for Liza. Perhaps we could meet up tomorrow. Sorted something for Liza? What on earth does she mean by that? And there she is, dangling herself so self-importantly in front of her. Tomorrow indeed. Sarah’s had enough, the weight of disappointment nearly crushing her bones. She resolves to put this all to the back of her mind. And with that, she claps her hands together and gets to work.
Firstly, she changes into her best jeans. The ones that she has to squeeze closed but that look good with the right jumper. She’s going to get Ella out of her mind. Go shopping for Liza. Get Tom to agree to let them stay and, in the meantime, she’ll think about the Christmas fair. She’ll boss it with both Casper and Thea. There’ll be no screaming tantrums in the supermarket. She’ll be a fully present and loving mum towards her son. No raised voices. Empathy. Compassion. Kindness.
She feels her blood pressure rising.
‘Right, Casper darling. Telly off.’ She looks at her watch.
‘Five more minutes,’ comes the wail.
‘No,’ she says. ‘Listen, darling, I thought since we’ve got Thea, we’ll go to Sainsbury’s. Have a really fun trip there. You can steer the trolley? Be like Captain … America, is it?’
‘Nooooooo Mummy. Noooo. I want telly.’
She inhales. Kindness and calm.
‘No. We’re going to Sainsbury’s. Like I just said. And please. You’ll wake Thea.’
His voice starts to rise, his legs thumping into the sofa.
‘Fine,’ she snaps. ‘Just turn off the telly. I’ll buy you a toy if you come with me now.’ She regrets the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth; she’s already gone way over budget this month and she had to teach Casper to do what he was told without a bribe. But with a tiny zing of relief, she watches as he leaps up off the sofa.
After she’s been to Sainsbury’s (thankfully, Thea had remained asleep) and thrown anything and everything sugary that Casper wanted into the bottom of the pram, just to shut him up, she decides to go straight to Liza’s.
She always has her spare key which Liza had handed to her when she and Gav had separated. She’ll open up, organise everything in the fridge, put the fish pie she’s bought into a Le Creuset and trim and arrange the bunch of purple lilies she’s bought in preparation for their homecoming.
Casper can hang out in the playroom and she’ll feed Thea and pray she lies there quietly whilst she gets everything done. This will be the start of everything, she tells herself. The start of making it up to Liza. She’ll need a morning or two to sort out the flat if she and the kids are to move in. But that’s OK. She’ll make up the beds, check everything is in order. She’d started doing it last week, after all, when they’d planned for Airbnb renters. And then she’ll get Tom to come round. He would soon enough. They’ve had such a difficult time this last year. It would be a chance