Blink(34)

I’m losing track of the clock count now; time to switch to the respirator.

In, out, space. In, out, space.

Pieces of Evie flash through my mind.

Her pale feet and perfect, shiny toenails like new shells on the beach. Small, neat teeth flashing as she laughs. The fine, downy hair on the side of her face.

That freakily warm day when she sat in the garden of the new house, soft toys arranged around her in a tea-party circle. She chattered to them as if they were real, her silvery giggle floating out, over the fence and down the lane. All these tiny pieces are bound together and by some kind of mysterious synergy they all amount to Evie.

The seconds turn into minutes, hours, days, then weeks, and finally the months turn into years that roll steadily on and the image of Evie grows a little dimmer in everyone’s mind.

It’s a long time since her picture appeared in the newspapers. Beautiful, vibrant Evie has somehow become old news. And I find myself wondering, for the millionth time, where is Evie now, this very second?

Will she even remember my face? Part of me hopes not.

I’m not a bad person, I just made some bad mistakes. I got distracted.

I let her down badly. Perhaps I was never meant to have her. She deserves so much better than I could ever give her. I do understand that now.

I begin my diaphragm exercises.

Up, down, up, down. Relax.

And again. Up, down, up, down.

Nothing happens.

The door opens and I hear it close again, softly.

Someone is in the room.





30





Three Years Earlier





Toni





The rest of the week plodded on. At least Evie wasn’t sobbing and threatening that she didn’t want to go to school each morning, but she seemed subdued and her beautiful, blue eyes took on a sort of dull cast. Even the new Lego set Mum bought her couldn’t seem to raise Evie’s old sparkle.

I didn’t see a lot of Dale at work because he had lots of countywide valuations on, but Bryony was in the office for the majority of the time. She gave me Phoebe’s old desk and I decided to keep my mouth shut about the potential draught problem. She looked on sourly when I took out a small, framed photo of Evie and placed it on my desk.

‘My daughter, Evie,’ I said, by way of explanation. ‘It’s OK to keep this on here, isn’t it?’

‘Of course,’ Bryony replied frostily. ‘The odd photograph is fine, just don’t let the place get cluttered up with personal items.’

As I recalled, there had been no photographs displayed on the immaculate desk or walls in Bryony’s office. I also noted that Jo had no photographs out on her desk.

I’d become quite practised in answering the phone and helping Jo with her workload, but I was also itching to carve out my own duties and make the job my own.

‘I could come with you, if you like,’ I offered, when Bryony announced she was leaving shortly to show a client to show around a property in Linby, a leafy village no more than a couple of miles away from the shop. ‘Just to get some practise in.’

‘That won’t be necessary, Toni. You aren’t a branch manager now, remember? Your duties don’t include client viewings. Your job is to remain here, in the office.’

‘Fair enough.’ She could please herself, I was only trying to show willing.

‘Jo is going to show you how we send a targeted mailshot out. That should keep you busy.’

Jo performed an exaggerated yawn for my benefit behind Bryony’s back.

The phone rang and I dealt quickly with a query about our opening times. When I came off the call, Bryony hadn’t moved. She stood at the side of my desk, still staring down. I was about to ask her if she felt OK when I realised what she was gazing at so intently.

It was the photograph of Evie.



* * *



When Bryony left, Jo made us both a cup of tea. I decided that now might be a good time to get Jo’s opinion on my boss’s bad attitude.

‘She’s very prickly, isn’t she? Bryony, I mean.’ I nodded my thanks as Jo handed me a steaming mug of tea and a two-finger Kit Kat. ‘I feel like I can’t do right for doing wrong. If I sit twiddling my thumbs she asks me if I’ve nothing to do but shoots me down if I try to show some initiative.’

‘She’ll calm down soon enough,’ Jo offered. ‘You’re right, she is very prickly, but it comes from a place of insecurity.’

I nearly choked on my tea. Insecurity? Bryony? Two words that didn’t go together.

Jo caught the look on my face. ‘I know she seems uber-confident and sorted, but she isn’t, not really.’ She put down her mug and sighed. ‘Look, if I tell you something about Bryony, do you promise not to breathe a word?’

‘Course.’ I gulped, wondering what Jo was about to say. Truthfully, I felt a bit uncomfortable, gossiping about my boss my first week in the job, but anything that would help me understand Bryony would be a massive help in breaking down the apparent barrier between us.

‘We had a staff night out about eighteen months ago. There were supposed to be four of us at the meal, but Phoebe had a stomach upset and Dale’s mum had a bad fall. So in the end, it was just me and Bryony rattling around on a table for four at Hart’s restaurant.’