Ten
I’m shaken out of my ruminating by the doorbell. It’s far louder than the one we had at the old house, and it instantly sets my teeth on edge. Recalling Saturday night’s mystery caller, I stand at the top of the stairs and look down towards the narrow opaque glass panels either side of the door. Although I can’t identify who the visitor is from up here, if I walk downstairs they’ll easily spot my movement and know someone is home.
When Aunt Pat was away, Mum and I rarely had visitors to the house. On the odd occasion a caller came to the door, perhaps a salesman touting double-glazing or a Jehovah’s Witness, spreading the Word, we’d dash into the back kitchen and actually hide until the caller had gone. At the time I thought everyone did it and when I got older, it took several trips to friends’ houses before I realised it wasn’t normal behaviour at all.
As I reach the hall, I dust down my jeans and curse myself for managing to look even more slovenly than when I took Rowan to school this morning. The bell rings again and I spring forward to open the door.
‘Janey, hello!’ The lady from down the road, Polly, stands there clutching a bunch of colourful sweet peas with a wodge of newspaper wrapped around the bottom. ‘I saw you get back from the school run this morning and I know you haven’t been out again, so I thought I’d pop over and give you these.’ She holds out the flowers, beaming.
I know you haven’t been out again… How creepy. Has she been watching the house?
‘Thank you.’ I take the blooms and sniff them. ‘They’re lovely; they’ll brighten up the kitchen no end. Did you grow them yourself?’
She nods.
There’s an awkward moment of silence, which I force myself to snap out of. I’ve got a thousand things to do, but I’ll look rude if I don’t invite her in.
‘Would you like a cup of tea? I’m afraid we’re still in a dreadful mess, though,’ I add when her face lights up.
‘I won’t stay long, just for a quick cuppa and a chat,’ she says happily.
An hour and a half and two cups of tea later, I’m getting restless. I’ve dropped a couple of hints about having things to get on with, but Polly likes talking about herself and her family. I know all about her late husband, Jerry, who apparently spent more time on the golf course than at home with her, their three grown-up daughters, her two grandchildren and last but not least, I know every last detail about her eldest daughter’s pet pug, Marlon, who is currently recovering from a recent operation on his anal glands.
‘He’s like a third grandchild, he really is,’ she chuckles. ‘He has his own personality and very firm likes and dislikes when it comes to food and his favourite spot for napping. But oh, the stench when he… well, you know, when he had his wind problem. It smelt just like—’
‘Marlon sounds adorable, Polly, he really does,’ I say, standing up. ‘Perhaps I’ll get to meet him when he’s feeling better. But for now, I’m afraid I really need to get cracking on my list of jobs.’
If I offer Polly a third drink, I genuinely fear she’ll sit here chatting for the entire afternoon. Yet I feel a bit rotten making it this obvious I want her to leave because, despite her obviously having a big, close family, I have this hunch that Polly is quite lonely underneath.
Isaac is going to wonder what I’ve been doing all day if I don’t make a bit more progress. I’m sure he’s had a busy first day with his unexpected early start, and I want to get downstairs tidied and straightened so we can relax over a nice meal later. Plus, I’m itching to get online and have a proper look at the job vacancy at the school.
‘Enough about me and my family.’ Polly ignores the fact I’ve stood up and tips her head to one side, folding her hands in her lap. ‘Tell me about yourself, Janey.’
‘Actually, I think that’s going to have to be a conversation for another day, Polly.’ Her face falls, but I don’t weaken. ‘It’s just that I still have so much to get done. I’m sure you understand.’
‘Of course, how thoughtless of me.’
My shoulders relax as she shuffles to the edge of her seat, ready to stand up.
Then she says, ‘You know, I have very little on this afternoon. I could be at your complete disposal if you just tell me where you want me to start.’ She’s sitting bolt upright now, wanting to please.
‘That’s really kind of you, and thanks so much for offering.’ I make a point of checking my watch. ‘But I’m expecting Isaac home soon and we have various tasks planned that we’ll need to do together, like moving some of the heavier bits of furniture around.’
Isaac already texted mid morning to say the bigwigs were staying later than expected so he might struggle to get home until after six. But Polly’s reluctance to move calls for drastic measures.
‘I could help you with the furniture. The two of us can manage, can’t we? It will save Isaac the trouble when he gets in from work.’
‘Thank you, but no,’ I say firmly. ‘I won’t hear of you humping furniture around for our benefit.’
I stifle a sigh of relief when, finally, Polly gets to her feet to leave.
Eleven
It’s nearly eight p.m. when Isaac finally arrives home. I peer though the living room door into the hallway, and the instant he walks in, I can tell he’s distracted. Glancing at his watch, putting down his briefcase then picking it up again like he can’t decide what to do for the best.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he calls out, his voice strained and tired.
He texted again to say he’d be back even later than he’d first thought, but I didn’t expect it would be a full two hours later.
When he hears the front door open, Rowan jumps up from the floor, snatching up the artwork he did in class, and runs through to the hallway to see his father. As it was his first day at school, I’ve allowed him to stay up a little later than usual so he can see Isaac.
‘I did a painting of our fossil hunt on the beach last year, Dad, and Miss Packton gave me a sticker because it was so good!’ he bellows out in one long breath, clearly anxious to impress Isaac.
He was far more reserved about his day when I picked him up at the end of school. I stood for a good five minutes amongst the other parents in the playground waiting for the classroom doors to open. Nobody spoke to me, but I didn’t feel particularly shunned or left out. It was just that people were standing around in small groups with other parents they knew, immersed in their chats.
After a minute or two, I spotted the group of mothers I’d seen at the gates that morning. Edie was amongst them again, and she raised her eyebrows and nodded discreetly, as if she didn’t want to blank me but didn’t want to greet me openly in front of the others. Mischievously, I toyed with the idea of walking over and asking if she had the list of events in town, as she’d promised when we chatted at her gate.
The women stood apart from the other parents, who, I’d already noticed with relief, were far more like me, dressed in casual clothes that hadn’t been carefully selected and accessorised. They looked as if they’d glanced at the clock and then rushed out to pick up the kids – just regular people.