Blink(5)

The realisation that I’d dragged my daughter from a respectable neighbourhood to live next to a convicted criminal made me sick to my stomach. I was sick of the stuff Sal was telling me and sick of the smell of smoke that hung around her like an odorous fog.

‘Well, I’d best be off,’ I muttered hastily before she embarked on another disturbing tale. ‘I don’t want to be late picking up Evie.’

‘OK, love, pop round for a cuppa and a chat once you’re settled in.’ Sal raised her hand by way of saying goodbye and walked away from the window.

Quickly, I started the engine and pulled away from the kerb before Sal remembered some other worrying detail about one of her sons that she felt compelled to tell me about.

Although Sal and I had zero in common, her invite to pop round for a chat had managed to shake up my memories a little, feel the weight of what life used to be.

I valued my close relationship with Mum, I really did, but I suppose what I missed was having a really good, impartial friend to talk to. I missed the release of unburdening myself, perhaps over a glass of wine, to someone who wouldn’t judge me. Someone who understood.

There was nobody like that left in my life. My best friend, Paula, had moved to Spain five years ago, and although we’d Skyped at first, contact had dwindled to a Christmas card each year, in which we’d both write, without fail, ‘Must get together soon’, in the full knowledge it wouldn’t happen.

Then there had been Tara. We used to meet up as a foursome for drinks and meals out when our husbands were home and get a film and a takeaway in when they were working away.

Her husband, Rob Bowen, had been with Andrew on duty that day. He’d died instantly at the scene.

Tara had been four months pregnant at the time of the accident and I heard she’d lost the baby. Our loss should have bonded us together, but instead it seemed to force us apart.

I sent a condolence card in the midst of my own grief, but what good was that? I remember struggling with what to say to her, settling on ‘I’m so sorry’. It had felt woefully inadequate.

Needless to say, I wouldn’t be ‘popping round’ next door any time soon. Sal was a nice enough woman but her use of bad language was terrible, and not something I wanted Evie overhearing. And although I believed everyone should be given another chance in life when they’d made a mistake, I didn’t like the sound of her older son, Colin, one bit.

I drove up to the large roundabout at the top of Cinderhill Road and joined the queue of cars. There was a steady stream of slow-moving traffic pouring from the M1 into the city centre and I had to wait nearly a full minute before I could drive straight across and onto the Broxtowe Estate.

I passed a large hotel on my left as I crawled around the roundabout. Giant posters announced a sprawling wedding fair that was taking place later in the month and a Take That tribute band that would be performing on the weekend closest to Halloween.

Too late, I realised I was in the wrong lane and tried to manoeuvre the car into the nearside position. The vehicle behind emitted a continuous beep and I glanced in the mirror and raised my hand in apology, just in time to see the driver’s face morph into a mask of pure hatred while he mouthed insults at me.

I had to fight a sudden urge to slam on the brakes, forcing him to smash into the back of me, just to inconvenience him. I didn’t know where these random maverick thoughts came from. Since Andrew’s death, they seemed to just drop into my head like they belonged to someone else.

When I looked down at my hands I saw I was gripping the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles had turned white.





5





Three Years Earlier





Toni





‘They didn’t have ANY of the new Lego sets in there, Mummy,’ Evie complained as I led her from the crèche and out to the car.

Her blonde curls bounced and shone in the weak rays of the September afternoon sun and her button nose wrinkled, making her look cute, rather than annoyed. The birthmark on her neck seemed illuminated, like a small strawberry. ‘AND they tried to make me drink milk. They said it was good for your bones. Is it good for your bones, Mummy?’

Evie enjoyed milk on cereal but couldn’t stand it as a drink on its own.

‘It is good for your bones because it contains lots of calcium,’ I explained, as I steered the Punto back onto Cinderhill Road. ‘But you can get calcium from lots of other foods, like yogurt and cheese, so you don’t have to drink milk if you don’t like it.’

Evie nodded solemnly. ‘I told them milk maked me poorly, and once, it maked me sick on next door’s cat. Then they let me have juice, instead.’

I suppressed a snort. She really had been sick over our former neighbour’s rare Persian Blue. I don’t think they – or the cat – ever properly forgave us.

Back at the house, Evie immediately headed over to her oversized box of Lego and emptied it out in the middle of the room. I sighed and shook my head.

‘Evie, I really don’t think this is the time to get—’

‘Toni, let her play, love,’ Mum overruled me, earning her a sweet smile from Evie. ‘We can work around her.’

‘Nanny, I need the toilet.’ Evie pursed her lips and frowned.

‘Come on then,’ Mum pandered. ‘Nanny will take you.’