Blink(20)

I pulled my shoulders back a bit and stood a little taller. I smiled widely at myself in the mirror to check I had nothing unsightly stuck in my teeth.

I’d already gotten out of the habit of wearing make-up. There really wasn’t any need, stuck in the house most days. But today I’d used a bit of mascara and a pale pink lipstick I’d found at the bottom of my handbag. A dusting of bronzer and a slick of clear gloss on top of the lip colour and I looked fairly presentable.

I patted my chestnut brown hair, neat in its French roll that I’d pinned and sprayed to within an inch of its life. We’d not been able to afford a holiday again this year but my hair had a few natural highlights, pretty glimmers of gold harvested from hours spent with Evie in our old garden, where I would snatch reading time as she splashed in her small inflatable pool with one or more of her little friends from nursery school.

Confidence. That’s what I needed to exude today.

I’d certainly lost all of the managerial demeanour I used to possess, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

I intended to play down my previous work history as much as I could in the interview anyway. The last thing I wanted was to put them off because they thought they’d be employing a know-all done-it-all.

I checked I had everything in my handbag before I left, including two glowing references from the directors of the previous company I’d worked for, and headed out of the house.

It was cloudy but warm outside and I slipped my jacket off before getting into the car. I’d been unable to get Evie’s pleading voice out of my head all morning, begging me to pick her up from school. ‘Please, Mummy, please.’ It echoed again at me now.

In the end, she’d gone into school quite happily, which had been a massive relief. There were lots of teachers on hand to take the new Primary-year-one children from reluctant parental hands on their first day.

Before we left home, I’d ended up agreeing that if it was humanly possible, I would pick her up from school. I said this knowing full well that with a three o’clock interview, there was no way on earth I was going to make it back to St Saviour’s for three thirty.

I disliked myself for doing it, but the little fib had been worth it to put a smile back on Evie’s face, and it had made our journey out of the house so much smoother.

I sat for a moment in the car and programmed the postcode of Gregory’s Property Services into the satnav. It said the journey would take thirteen minutes and I was allowing thirty. Barring an alien invasion, there would really be no need to panic.

I pressed back into the headrest and took a few deep breaths in through my nose, out through my mouth, just like the relaxation app had suggested. I thought about the little brown bottle I’d salvaged from the bathroom cabinet and tucked away in the zipped compartment of my handbag. Just in case.

I’d done it just for insurance purposes, to make me feel a little more secure. A tablet might help with my heart rate and anxiety but I needed my wits about me more than ever today, and I had to drive, too.

I pulled away from the kerb and turned left out of the estate. Cinderhill Road was busy. It was a road that carried lots of traffic towards the big island at the top, funnelling vehicles on to the A610 and eventually the M1 motorway beyond that.

Today though, I was travelling in the opposite direction and the traffic flowed fairly lightly. The road swept steeply down, past cramped rows of terraced houses with weathered bricks and peeling cream sills, long overdue for a lick of paint. I continued over the tram lines at the bottom.

I glanced at the satnav screen and took a right turn at the mini roundabout and then headed out past Moor Bridge and towards Hucknall town centre. I passed young mothers pushing brightly coloured strollers and a group of hooded youths lounging on a bench with beer cans.

This morning, Evie and I had walked to school and it had taken us just under fifteen minutes. I’d silently rebuked myself yet again for missing our appointment to look around St Saviour’s. Unfortunately, they had been unable to fit us in again before the start of the new term.

Evie had been quite the little chatterbox right up until the school’s wrought-iron gates came into view and then she’d become suddenly quieter, the nerves kicking in.

‘It’s going to be fine, darling.’ I squeezed her hand. ‘You’ll have such a lovely day.’

‘But I won’t know anyone,’ Evie remarked. ‘Daisy, Nico and Martha are my best friends and none of them are here.’

The four young friends had been inseparable in reception class at North View Primary, her old school. My stomach twisted at the thought of her sitting alone in class.

And then I remembered.

‘There’ll be lots of children here who don’t know anyone,’ I said as we neared the propped-open side gate. ‘I bet you’ll have tons of friends by the end of the day, and besides, you do know someone. Someone important.’

‘Huh?’ Evie looked up at me, her little forehead furrowing around two angry-looking stings.

‘Miss Watson, of course,’ I said brightly. ‘You already know the teacher, so you’ll be the best girl!’

Her face lit up. ‘Yay, I’ll be the best girl!’

She sang it on repeat as we approached the gate. I was so grateful to leave her happy and smiling. Of course, when I came away, I was the one who felt choked. I could see that most of the other parents of the new five-year-olds felt exactly the same.