What are you doing here? Is everything OK?’ I stand in the doorway, instead of pulling the door wide open as I usually would.
‘Yes, everything’s fine. I just brought this over – I thought we could chill out together this evening, girls’ night in?’ She waves a DVD in my face, and makes as if to come in. I hold out a hand, resting it gently on her forearm.
‘Lila, wait. I’m sorry but … I can’t. Not tonight.’ Lila’s face falls, and I feel terribly guilty. She has been so good to me and I hate to let her down, but even so, we hadn’t made any arrangements.
‘Oh. That’s a shame.’ She gives me a small smile. ‘I just thought that … well, I thought maybe you might quite like some adult company while Mark’s away. But it’s fine, another time.’ I go to explain myself, to say it’s nothing personal, but before I can say anything, Laurence appears behind her. Lila turns, and seeing him behind her, gives a little nod. ‘Oh, I see,’ she says, in a flat voice. ‘You’ve already made plans. I’m sorry, Steph, I didn’t realise.’ Dejected, she turns to leave.
‘Lila, wait,’ I say, feeling like a total heel. ‘We’re just having dinner. Laurence is looking after us while Mark is away, that’s all. How about you join us? Or you and I could get together tomorrow evening?’ It’ll be the last thing I feel like tomorrow. After Laurence coming over this evening and two articles to write tomorrow the chances are I’ll be exhausted by the time tomorrow evening rolls around, but I hate seeing the disappointed look on her face.
‘Oh, no, don’t be silly, it’s fine. It was only a DVD and a bar of chocolate. But tomorrow, yes. That’ll be lovely.’ Lila turns on her heel and I watch her make her way back up the slippery, icy path, glittering with frost, before gently closing the door.
I wake up early the next morning, the previous evening with Laurence on my mind. I had forgotten how nice it was to spend an evening with someone who is mentally present, as well as physically. Mark always has to rush off to check work emails, or make phone calls, leaving me feeling as though our spending a quiet evening together is inconveniencing him, forcing him to take time out of his busy schedule. It didn’t feel like that with Laurence – he listened to me without comment, without making me feel as though I needed to weigh up every word before I spoke. I am always so conscious of what I say to Mark, wary of saying the wrong thing in case he thinks I’m sliding backwards to how it was before. There was none of that yesterday evening – I felt relaxed, not at all on edge. I forgot how nice it is just to be Steph, not Mark’s wife, or Henry’s mum, just me, spending the evening with someone who wanted to be there, who didn’t have a million other things he needed to be doing. I leave the house early, in the hope I can catch Lila before she goes out anywhere. I’m still not entirely sure what she actually does for a living. Despite us becoming so close over the past few weeks, every time I ask her she brushes me away, saying her job is terribly boring and often changing the subject. I’ve come to the conclusion that either she has a terribly rich family and has no need to work but is too embarrassed to tell me, or she really does have some rubbish boring job, like stuffing envelopes from home or something.
I ring her doorbell, even though it’s only eight a.m., and keep an eye on Henry as he whizzes backwards and forwards on his scooter across the garden paths. I am about to turn and walk away when suddenly the door is wrenched open and Lila appears in her dressing gown, hair tousled as if she has just got out of bed.
‘Oh, God, Lila, I’m sorry, I thought you would be up – did I wake you?’ I pull an apologetic face, feeling awful. There’s nothing I hate more than being woken up. She smiles at me, pale-faced, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her body.
‘No, it’s all right. Are you OK?’
‘Yes, it’s just ... well, I just wanted to apologise about last night. I would have loved a girls’ night in but I had already invited Laurence for dinner and didn’t want to be rude. I didn’t realise you were home alone or I would have invited you too. How about lunch today?’ Sod the two articles, I think, I can write them tonight when Henry is in bed if I meet Lila for lunch.
‘Oh, don’t be silly, you funny thing.’ She smiles at me, a broad grin filled with perfect white teeth, at once much more her normal self, and pats my arm. ‘I just had horrendous PMT and thought we could indulge ourselves with a chocolate-filled girly night, but it’s fine. I came home and ate the chocolate myself!’ She gives a little chuckle and leans against the doorframe, her stance making it clear she’s not going to invite me in. Although she seems her normal chirpy self now, there is an air about her that’s a little off and I guess she is still a bit miffed about last night, even if she says she’s not. I give her a small smile back, before I say, ‘Well, good. I was worried I had offended you. Shall we meet for lunch? Or are you busy?’ I realise I really am worried that I have offended her – now that we seem to be getting along so well I’d hate to have upset her.
‘Gosh, no. It takes far more than that to offend me!’ She gives another tinkly laugh. ‘And I’m sure poor Laurence needed the company far more than I did. Listen, I don’t want to be rude but I must dash, I’m late as it is.’ Lila reaches to close the front door, still not responding to my invitation to lunch. I decide not to mention it again – maybe she is offended, despite protesting otherwise?
‘OK. Well, as long as we’re OK? I’ll let you get on. I need to get Henry to school.’ I move reluctantly from the doorstep and make my way down the path to where Henry is waiting impatiently, scuffing his feet backwards and forwards.
‘Oh, and Steph – how about one o’clock at the Hole in the Wall?’
I look back and grin, relieved that Lila is not cross with me after all.
‘Perfect.’
I drop Henry off and am threading my way through children and parents, out of the playground, when a hand lands on my arm and stops me.
‘You’re Steph Gordon, aren’t you? The new mum?’ A woman moves in front of me, blocking the path ahead, so that I have no option but to stop and speak to her. She is petite, with hair in a shiny, black bob and a full face of perfect make-up, despite the early hour. Straight away she makes me feel grungy and lazy, with my curls once again bundled up in a topknot and no make-up on.
‘Yes? Errr, I mean, yes, that’s me.’ I have no idea who she is, presumably the mother of one of the other children, hopefully a child that Henry has made friends with. She sticks a hand out for me to shake.
‘We haven’t been properly introduced. Jasmine Hale. Head of the PTA.’
‘Oh, right. Nice to meet you. I’m sorry, but I’m kind of on a deadline …’ I go to walk past her but she effectively blocks my way again.
‘The PTA are always on the lookout for new members, you know. I’m sure you would bring some marvellous qualities to our little group. The school needs all the support it can get.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t really think—’
‘We raise a lot of money for the school; it’s so nice for the children to have lovely equipment to play on, don’t you think? But of course, we all have to pull our weight and make sure we do our bit. You’ll be at our next meeting, a week on Wednesday, won’t you? We are in dire need of some new blood and I just know you’ll be perfect.’ She looks at me expectantly, waiting for a response.
‘Well, I’d love to, but the thing is … well, I work from home and my husband works away a lot. I’m not sure I would be able to commit—’
‘Oh, don’t be silly; everybody can spare an hour here and there. It’s not a huge commitment, and of course it benefits the children. All of the children.’
She is so bossy and confident I’ll do what she wants, completely ignoring the fact that I am desperately trying to turn her down. She’s like a dog with a bone. I try to take a bit