Bad Little Girl(26)

Claire and Norma’s days were quiet, slow and full of unspoken things. Claire signed up with Sky – classic movies, reality shows, ancient detectives and rolling news – and they’d sit together, watching it all, watching anything, until Norma would droop in her seat, and allow herself to be led upstairs.



* * *



The girls’ school sent Norma flowers and a card signed by every pupil. It stood next to the pills and tissues on her bedside table. Claire had more than once plucked it from Norma’s sleeping fingers – all those names, all those messages. Such respect, such reverence. The TV was often tuned to the Christmas movie channels, and Norma, wrapped in a blanket on her padded armchair, carefully eating satsumas, watched them all. They watched Miracle on 34th Street and Meet Me in St. Louis, and Claire fancied she saw tears in Mother’s eyes.

‘Sentimentalist.’ She nudged her. ‘Look at you, falling for cheap emotion.’

Norma stuck her tongue out. ‘Even my icy heart melts at the sound of Judy Garland. Pass me another orange. I have a bit of an appetite.’

Claire gave her two from the Denby bowl on the coffee table. ‘Oh, I got a call from Derek today.’

Norma rolled her eyes. ‘And?’

‘He wondered if we’d like to go to his and Pippa’s for lunch tomorrow.’

Norma pulled a string of pith from her lips. ‘He must be after something in my will.’

‘Mother! Don’t say things like that.’

‘Oh Claire. If you really want to hasten my end, insist that I lunch with my nephew and that ghastly wife of his.’

‘I really think he meant it. He seemed very keen on it.’

Norma shuddered theatrically, put her feet up on her new footstool. ‘No, thank you.’

‘What shall I tell him?’

‘Tell him the end is near. Tell him that I stink of death, but if he stays away I’ll leave him that sideboard he’s always hinting about.’

‘Mother!’

‘Claire’ – Norma was smiling, but her eyes were fixed and serious – ‘I’m not going to be around much longer. No.’ She put up a hand to ward off Claire’s automatic protest. ‘No, really. And I want to spend my time with you. And only you.’

Claire’s throat swelled and the tears started. She frowned at her lap so Mother wouldn’t see. ‘I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.’

Norma was mock-offended. ‘You don’t want to spend your time with a dying old lady? Most people would jump at the chance.’

‘You know what I mean. Just. Please.’

Norma peered at her own hands for a long time. Finally, she said, ‘You will be all right, Claire. Afterwards.’

‘Mother, I really don’t want to talk about—’

‘But we must. I want you to know that I’ve left nothing to worry about. My affairs are in order as they say. Even – Claire, look at me – even the money for the funeral is set aside. You needn’t worry.’

‘I’m not worried. I’m—’

‘You’ve always been a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, Claire. I saw it, even if your father didn’t.’

Claire started. There had always been a tacit agreement never to talk about him. Norma was quiet for a long time. Perhaps she’d fallen asleep? No. No. She was staring into the fire, working her lips.

‘I’ll go to the supermarket, get you some more oranges,’ Claire babbled suddenly.

‘Claire—’

‘And some brandy? I can make tiramisu—’

‘Because the way he was with you, how strict he was. Well, it was a less enlightened time. But what he – and Claire, you have to let me say this – I didn’t know. I didn’t, and as soon as I found out, he left. I made him leave. After—’

‘I really don’t want to talk about it, Mother.’

‘No, and neither do I, but we ought to. But then, maybe we’ve left it too long.’ Norma sighed, closed her eyes. ‘There’s not a day that has gone by, Claire, that I haven’t regretted not noticing more. Not protecting you. Keeping you safe.’

‘Mother—’

‘No. There it is. That’s all I’ll say. But remember that I did say it. Remember that, after I’ve gone.’

‘Mother—’

‘But I’m not planning on going just yet. Not with It’s a Wonderful Life starting in a few hours. Listen, Claire?’

Claire took some deep breaths and managed to look up. ‘Yes?’

‘I feel very well today. Really. I could probably manage one of those chicken dinner things – the frozen ones with the green beans. And Johnny needs more food. Go to the supermarket, and take your time. Get out, have a drive around. Fresh air.’





11





Claire drove aimlessly for a while. She put the radio on. Some consumer programme with OAPs whinnying about being scammed. The weather outside was icy and grey, and the few people she saw walking were huddled like penguins in their cheap coats and Primark leggings. For no real reason, she drove through the city centre; how run-down it was now! More and more shops empty and boarded up. The scrubby little market was still clinging on, selling tired-looking fruit and knock-off football shirts, but it wasn’t a patch on the old days. Clusters of people hunkered down on their heels by the town hall steps, drinking lager, some arguing, none of them with anything in particular to do, it seemed. A drunk woman shouted at a teenager outside Cancer Research. It began to sleet. Claire sped on, past the industrial estate, past the turn-off to cousin Derek’s area of new builds, to the supermarket.