Bad Little Girl(72)

‘Tell her not to go!’ the girl wailed.

‘Lola, please. I’m sure your mummy wants you to herself.’ Marianne lingered in the kitchen doorway, holding her zipped bag.

‘What time is it?’ Claire asked, dazed.

‘It’s not late! Auntie May says it’s late, but it isn’t, it’s only eight. And she doesn’t have to go home yet, does she?’ The girl bounced on the sofa, jarring Claire’s ankle. ‘Does she?’

‘Marianne has got a life to go back to. We’ll see her again. We’re bound to run into her on the beach or something.’

There was a pause. ‘Mummy’s right, Lola. I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Some time.’ Marianne’s voice was soft, sad.

‘MUM!’

‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘Tell her not to GO!’

‘I’ve left you all the pills and the compress is back in the freezer.’ Marianne shifted her bag from one shoulder to the other. ‘And, Lola, we’ll have to finish that picture some other time.’

‘Mum! We were doing a picture!’

‘Benji!’ Marianne clicked her fingers. The dog didn’t move.

‘You see, he doesn’t want to go! He doesn’t want to go home either!’ Lorna wailed.

Claire propped herself up and gingerly swung her feet onto the floor. Marianne made a big deal of finding her car keys.

‘Perhaps you’d like to stay for dinner, Marianne?’

‘Stay for dinner! Auntie May!’

‘Oh well—’

‘It’s no trouble.’ Claire staggered up, trying to smile. ‘I’m sure we have enough for all of us.’

‘We’ve got loads. Auntie May bought burgers, and buns and chips. Pizza.’

‘I thought, if you were slow to heal, it would be useful to have things in – quick and easy, you know.’ Marianne’s eyes glistened. Claire was stricken.

‘You must stay. Yes. And as soon as I can get to the bank I’ll pay you for all the food, and medicine—’

‘Won’t hear of it,’ Marianne whispered, smiling. ‘It’s all my fault this happened anyway. The least I can do is help out.’

She insisted that Claire stay on the sofa while they heated up a pizza. She made her take more painkillers. ‘You have the History Channel? Lauren was telling me you’re a history buff. I’ll get that on; I think it’s Tudor weekend or something. Do you need another blanket? How about a brandy?’

‘A little brandy maybe.’ Claire closed her eyes slowly as the pills began to work, and she felt befuddled warmth towards Marianne; yes she was silly, yes she was affected, but she’d been so kind. So helpful. ‘Thank you so much, Marianne.’ And Marianne turned those tragic, kohl-rimmed eyes on her, her dry red lips quivered and she put out a large chapped hand. Claire felt the ragged nails poke into her palms. She smiled with great tenderness. A ruined, leonine face, but a kind one. ‘You’re a real rock,’ she said, and smiled sleepily.

Marianne wiped away a tear, her eyes widened and she shook her head laughing softly. ‘Oh, you don’t know how good that is to hear! I’ve been so worried that I’ve been a pain. I’ll get Lauren seen to. You just rest, promise me!’

Lorna was a lamb about cleaning her teeth, about washing her face, about turning the light off. In between reconstructions of Tudor crimes, Claire could hear them, talking softly so as not to disturb her, giggling together. She heard Lorna sigh sleepily, ‘Goodnight Auntie May.’ She heard Marianne tiptoe down the stairs, towards the sofa.

‘I’ll be getting home now, Claire.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘I’d better. Don’t want to outstay my welcome.’ She grinned awkwardly.

‘You really wouldn’t be,’ said Claire, automatically.

‘Ach. I would be.’

‘No, really.’ Claire shifted herself on the safe to make room. ‘Have a seat, Anne Boleyn’s about to meet her maker.’

‘Oh, I’ll need a drink for that! Claire? Brandy?’

‘I better not.’

‘Rubbish. Just a little one. Let me look at that ankle too. Still nasty. I’ll get that compress.’

‘You’re very nice.’

‘Back in a bit. Call me before the axe falls!’

It was nice to sit with someone. Nice to watch the TV without having to explain things, or guard against a sudden channel change. And as it turned out, Marianne was quite knowledgeable, almost incisive. They discovered that they shared a faintly guilty sympathy with Mary Tudor.

‘If only she’d been able to have a child. That was the thing that drove her mad, in the end, I think,’ Marianne mused over a second brandy. ‘As a woman – to be needed. It’s so important, isn’t it? Yes?’

‘Yes. I sometimes think that that’s our greatest strength.’

‘And weakness. No? I mean, we leave ourselves open to rejection by putting ourselves out there. Helping. Don’t we? I mean, I wear my heart on my sleeve, and you do too, I can tell. And you get taken advantage of.’

‘I do. I do,’ said Claire, and took a sloppy sip of brandy. ‘My cousin Derek—’

‘You see, I could tell. I could. People like us, we give, give, give and leave ourselves empty. Really’ – she topped up Claire’s glass and added a healthy swig to her own – ‘it’s the story, well, one of the stories of my life. Yours too, I bet?’ She was curled up on the sofa now, patting Claire’s arm.