‘Sadie told me. She felt really bad.’
‘I don’t think it was her fault. There were a few mix-ups on my calendar at work where dates had been changed.’
‘That’s annoying.’
‘These things happen,’ I say for the second time this evening. But an awful lot of ‘these things’ seem to be happening to me at the moment. Perhaps most of them are simply a case of bad luck and crossed wires, but I can’t help thinking that someone out there has got it in for me. That I’m being targeted for some reason. None of the incidents have been major, or life-threatening – apart from when Katie went missing. It’s just… when you add them all together, they feel calculated, personal, dangerous. I take a breath and try to relax my shoulders. It would be nice if I could have one week that’s straightforward and uncomplicated. Where my children aren’t getting into trouble, or going missing. Where my laptop doesn’t start deleting my files and I’m not the subject of sexual harassment or vandalism. Where I can simply have a nice evening out with my family. Is that too much to ask?
Thirty-One
I’m sitting at the kitchen table eating toast, going through my emails. I like to get up early, sit in silence as dawn glows through the windows. It’s almost seven. Robert is usually out with his first client of the day by now, but he has a rare morning off and I left him upstairs in bed, fast asleep. Sadie will be getting the girls up soon and everything will go into fast-forward mode. Noise, mess, drama. I love it as much as I enjoy the peace beforehand. Especially now that I have Sadie to lighten the load.
‘Hey.’
I look up to see my husband, showered and dressed. ‘I thought you were having a lie in,’ I say.
‘I did,’ he replies. ‘Hungry. Need breakfast.’
The front door opens and Sadie comes into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed.
‘Morning!’ she says. ‘Just been for a run. It’s gorgeous out there. Chilly, but the sky is so clear.’ Instead of her usual baggy joggers, she’s wearing navy Lycra leggings and a crop top. Her hair is tied up in a swinging ponytail and her skin is glistening with a light sheen of sweat, like gold glitter. I wish I could look that good after exercising. When I run, I go bright red and the sweat drips off me.
I also notice, for the first time, that Sadie actually has an incredible figure – petite and toned. I glance at Robert to see that he’s noticing too, his eyes darting swiftly down her body. But maybe I imagined it. He’s busying himself with the kettle now.
‘Anyone for tea?’ he asks.
‘I’ll have mine a little later,’ Sadie replies. ‘Just going to wake the girls and get showered.’
Maybe I need to start paying more attention to my own body. I’ve let myself go a little over the past year – nothing drastic, but I could certainly afford to lose a few pounds and tone up. Because of Robert’s job, his body is always at the peak of physical fitness. But he never pushes me to work out – and for that I love him – but surely he must compare my body to those of his clients. I think I’ll ask my husband to schedule me in for a couple of mornings training a week. I don’t really have the time, but I need this for my self-esteem. And it would be good to spend some time together.
Another thing I really want to do is plan another outing with the girls. I think I’ll do something without Sadie. Maybe just the four of us. After my error with the Shakespeare play, I need to make it up to them. Do something to make them remember that I am their mother. That I love them. It’s daft that I should suddenly feel so insecure around my own children. It’s all very well having help with the practical things, but I didn’t expect to have to share their affection with a stranger. But then, that’s not entirely fair. Sadie isn’t a stranger any more. I should be grateful to her that she’s so lovely with the girls. That they’re happy to spend time with her. It would be ten times worse if they hated her. If she was mean to them, or too strict.
‘Just nipping upstairs to see how the girls are getting on.’
‘Okay,’ Robert replies absent-mindedly, looking at his phone while pouring milk onto his cereal.
Leaving the kitchen, I decide thatI’mgoing to get the girls ready this morning. I’ll also ask them what they want to do this weekend. I jog up the stairs, excited to spend a few precious minutes with them. Keen to show that I’m here for them. On the landing, Katie comes out of the bathroom. She’s already in her school uniform, but her hair is sticking up all over the place.
‘Morning, KitKat,’ I say holding out my arms for a hug.
‘Hi, Mummy.’
‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Yep.’
‘How about… you come into my room and sit at my dressing table while I braid your hair?’ This is one of Katie’s favourite things for us to do, but I’m usually too busy and end up just tying it back in a ponytail while she’s having her breakfast.
‘That’s okay, Mummy. Sadie does my hair now.’ My chest constricts at my daughter’s casually wounding words.
‘Oh, okay. Well, it’s great to have Sadie to do your hair, but I can do it today.’
Katie pulls a face. ‘She’s doing Dutch braids today. Can you do Dutch braids?’
‘How about French ones?’ I offer.
‘Hmm, no thank you. You can do Eva’s hair.’
That’s me told. ‘Okay, you go and have your Dutch braids. Show me when they’re done.’