Bad Little Girl(79)

‘I’m not being horrible. I just want you to stop making that noise. And, listen . . .’ Claire took a deep breath and closed her eyes. ‘You shouldn’t have pinched that boy. I just saw him and his mum, and it’s a horrible bruise, all up his arm—’

‘I didn’t—’

‘You did, Lauren. No more nonsense. I saw you.’

‘I DID NOT!’ she bellowed. ‘He kicked me and I didn’t do anything, did I Auntie May? Did I?’

‘I didn’t see you do anything, lovely.’ Marianne kept her eyes on the road, her voice low.

‘See? Mum? I didn’t. Auntie May believes me. He kicked me for no reason. ’Cause he was jealous ’cause the rabbit liked me best. And then he lied. And you’re taking his side!’ She began to cry large, messy sobs. Marianne glanced at Claire in the rear-view mirror, eyebrows raised, accusation in her eyes, while Claire, her exhaustion overwhelming her, stayed silent, helpless. The sobs continued for some time before Marianne swung the car over into a layby and stopped. She unbuckled herself and pulled the girl forward, squeezing her and cooing. Lorna’s face, mashed into Marianne’s old-fashioned shoulder pad, was as red and wrinkled as a baby’s, and she lay supine, weak, crushed under the weight of parental injustice. After a long time, with no sign of Lorna’s tears abating, Marianne swapped shoulders, frowned at Claire and mouthed, ‘Say sorry.’

Claire looked at them both, so in tune with each other, so close. Dizzying jealousy opened her mouth. She said, ‘I’m sorry.’ And Lorna stopped crying and sat upright, choking and shivering. She tried to smile at Claire, but broke back into tears, and Claire pushed her thin body as far into the gap between the two front seats as she could, prying the girl from Marianne’s arms. ‘I really am sorry, my love. Don’t cry. I just got a bit confused, that’s all. Don’t cry, darling.’

‘’S all right,’ the child managed; she looked soulfully into Claire’s eyes, and whispered, ‘I forgive you.’ There was a silence.

‘I have an idea.’ Marianne used her best coaxing voice. ‘How about we go to the cinema tonight? There’s that film you wanted to see, Lauren, the one with the dancing?’

‘Mum says I can’t see it. She says it’s too old for me.’ Lorna smiled sadly.

‘Oh, I’m sure Mum will change her mind, no?’ Marianne smiled at Claire ‘After the day you’ve had, you deserve a special treat, surely. And it’s a 15. Not like a really adult film or anything.’

Claire stared helplessly at Marianne. Marianne nodded, firmly.

‘Please Mum, it will help me with my dancing.’

‘It’s meant to be really very good,’ said Marianne.

‘And you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I mean, you’re still a bit poorly. Your leg.’ Lorna blinked and wiped away the last of her tears.

‘Oh no, Mum doesn’t have to come. You’ll be perfectly safe with Auntie May, won’t you? What do you say, Claire? It’ll be a nice thing for her. It’d make up for today.’

‘Please Mum?’

‘I think it’s too – adult, I saw the trailer—’

‘Oh, Claire, with the internet and all, kids see all sorts of things we didn’t when we were young. Come on now.’

Claire sank beneath the pressure. ‘But no sweets.’

‘Oh, you can’t go to the cinema and not have sweets!’ Marianne wheedled, her face mirroring Lorna’s exactly, and Claire gave in again.

‘But not too many. Don’t let Marianne spoil you, Lauren.’

‘She’s too sweet to spoil,’ Marianne said fondly, and she and Lorna chatted away all the way home.

Later that night, alone, Claire took the opportunity to watch the news. Here was the now familiar footage of the house, the same police chief, the same briefing room. But new news. Peter Marshall had died from his injuries earlier that day.





28





Marianne and Lorna came back from the cinema late – way after Lorna’s bedtime – giddy and full of new, lewd dance moves. They bumped and ground their way through the house, ending in a hilarious conga up the stairs. Claire trailed after them.

‘Me and Auntie May, we’re having a sleepover!’ Lorna announced, all pink cheeks and cheer.

‘I’m going to camp on the floor next to Lola’s bed, and we’ll make a real girly night of it!’

‘It’s too late! Lorna? It’s past your bedtime—’

‘Oh, Claire, relax a little. Seriously! She’ll be fast asleep in no time; we just thought it’d be fun to camp out together, that’s all!’

‘Mum, come on,’ Lorna laughed.

‘Yes, come on, Claire!’

‘No.’

‘Mum?’ Lorna peered at Claire, concerned. ‘Are you OK?’

Marianne hovered, taking her cues from Lorna. ‘You do seem peaky, Claire. Can I get you painkillers? A drop of something?’

‘I need to talk to you, L— Lauren,’ Claire managed.

‘Auntie May, can you get Mum those things?’ Lorna was brisk.

‘Yes Ma’am,’ saluted Marianne. ‘And I’ll give you two some space. But, Claire, really . . .’