Bad Little Girl(67)

‘I’m sorry. We’re so isolated here and – I’m sorry. I was sharp. I haven’t had much sleep, but that’s not really an excuse. You were so kind to come and see how I was.’

Marianne stayed standing. A tear fell onto the tabletop. She dabbed it with a trembling finger. ‘I’d better go.’

‘No!’ Claire’s guilt was paralysing. She felt as if she’d kicked a crippled animal. ‘No, really, please stay. I’ll make you another cup of tea.’

‘You can’t walk,’ said Marianne, smiling a little. ‘I can do it. If you’re sure. I don’t want to impose myself.’

Claire began to feel the painkillers. A gorgeous tingling inertia spread through her limbs, her mouth loosened, her lips were going numb.

‘I feel a bit better,’ she said and Marianne looked so happy, she said it again. ‘Those pills.’

‘I know! Wondrous, aren’t they? Oh, I got an ice compress thing for you too, I’ll put it in the freezer for a bit. In the meantime . . .’ she waggled the brandy bottle ‘. . . straight or in more coffee?’

Claire swallowed, smiled. ‘No more brandy please.’

‘Yes more brandy. Then a lie-down. You have to rest. Doctor’s orders.’

‘You’re a doctor too?’ Claire smiled, woozy and reckless.

‘Oh honey. Don’t let me commence.’ Marianne pouted and rolled her eyes and the accent was back, thicker now, a southern drawl.

Claire smiled again, sleepy, safe; the pain beautifully blanketed by the brandy and pills. Barking and shrieks from the outside reached her dreamily, and weak alarm tried to surface. Lorna, who must not admit to her real name. Lorna, guileless and unprotected. She made a huge effort to open her eyes, to speak.

‘Can you – Marianne – can you get L—, my daughter, inside? Can you tell her I need to speak to her?’

And Marianne opened the door, yelled into the garden, ‘Lauren! Lauren! Mummy wants you!’

And when Lorna appeared at the door, Claire managed to say, ‘Lauren?’

And Lorna replied, smiling, ‘Yes Mum?’

Claire fought through the fog of the pills. She had to get Marianne out of the house, or away at least, to give her a chance to talk to Lorna.

‘Marianne, can I ask you a favour? You’ve been so kind already, but if I give you some money could you drive to the shop and get us some milk, bread and things? And – Lauren, are you being careful with Benji?’

‘Of course!’ She was indignant.

‘Oh, Benji will be OK for a while without me, with his new little friend. He’ll forget all about me.’ Marianne ruffled Lorna’s hair. The girl’s face flickered briefly into annoyance, then smoothed itself blank.

‘If I have a little nap can you look after Benji for Marianne until she gets back?’

‘OK. Marianne? Can you get a treat at the shops? Like chocolate?’ She said the word as if she was tasting it. ‘I can share with Benji?’

Marianne ruffled her hair again, smirking. ‘You’re sure you’ll share it with poor Benji? You won’t eat it all up yourself?’

Again, contempt crossed the girl’s face, almost imperceptible, gone in an instant and replaced with a smile. ‘I promise promise promise. And Benji told me he likes Mars Bars best.’

‘Did he?’ Marianne raised an arch eyebrow. ‘You two are fast friends, aren’t you?’

The girl nodded, pertly. ‘I’m a friend to all the animals.’

‘I think chocolate is poisonous for dogs though. I think. Isn’t it?’ Claire managed.

‘Oh, well, I’ll just have to eat all of it after all then!’ Lorna beamed.

Marianne let out a laugh. ‘Oh, God she’s just adorable, isn’t she? Sweet as pie! Little Madam! OK, I’ll get some essentials and I’ll be back. With treats, Miss Lauren!’

Something about the artifice of this scene had steadied Claire enough so that when the door closed and Marianne was safely out of earshot, she was able to remain clear-headed. ‘Lauren?’

The girl looked at her slyly, and laughed. ‘It’s what we said, isn’t it? It’s pretty.’

‘It was good thinking.’

Lorna/Lauren flopped down on a kitchen chair. She chewed a finger thoughtfully ‘So, I’ll call you Mum?’

‘It’s probably best to, yes. At least in front of other people.’

The child leaned forward to look her in the eye. ‘Can I call you Mummy?’

‘Do you want to?’

‘You are my mummy now, aren’t you?’

Claire felt oddly detached. The codeine pinned her, supine, to her chair. ‘Do you want me to be?’

‘Mummy.’ Lorna chewed the word over. ‘Mummy. And Lauren. OK.’

‘OK.’

‘Mummy?’

‘Yes Lauren?’

‘Marianne’s a bit silly, isn’t she?’

‘She’s been very kind to us though. I don’t know how we’d have got any shopping without her. Don’t chew your fingers.’

‘Yeah,’ Lorna said, pulling some skin off her lips meditatively, ‘she asked me if I wanted to be a ballet dancer.’

‘What did you say?’