The Stepmother(31)

I put my head between my knees, feeling like this is not reality, trying to remember to breathe, just breathe…

 

And I’m shocked when Matthew comes in. I sit up too quickly, shoving the drawer shut as he sidles up behind me and leans down.

 

‘Looking for something?’

 

‘No, sorry, I just felt a bit – faint for a minute.’ I feel light-headed and giddy and sick now; it’s the truth.

 

‘Well you smell gorgeous,’ he murmurs. ‘Are you coming down to say hello?’

 

He pulls me up and kisses me hard.

 

‘Matthew,’ I say, still light-headed, clinging onto him for literal support. ‘Kaye’s not here, is she?’

 

He says, ‘Shhh!’ and kisses me again, harder this time, and, despite myself, I find myself responding – until a small yap makes us both jump.

 

Luke is standing in the bedroom doorway, holding a tiny white puppy in his arms.

 

‘Oh – how adorable!’ I say, although the truth is I’m wary about dogs since Smudge. I was never that keen to be honest, having been badly bitten once by my Uncle Rog’s Alsatian, Kaiser. Rog had been on yet another bender and hadn’t fed or watered the poor animal for days. The smell of dog shit still reminds me of that horrible night.

 

But Smudge sneaked into my heart, despite my misgivings. What eight-year-old wouldn’t have loved him, with his liquid brown eyes and the wet nose he pushed hopefully into my hand? The truth was I needed someone to love – or someone to love me – unconditionally. Without wanting something back.

 

When Smudge died, just before my tenth birthday, I thought I would die too – I was so devastated.

 

‘He’s Scarlett’s,’ Luke says. ‘Yassine got him for her from his friend.’

 

‘Who the hell’s Yassine when he’s at home?’ Matthew looks thoroughly irritated.

 

‘Mum’s new boyfriend. He got scouted for West Ham when he was fifteen.’ Luke looks so excited that I smile, but Matthew’s face has set in that way it does whenever Kaye is mentioned. ‘He can do one hundred keepy-uppies in a go.’

 

‘Typical,’ Matthew mutters. He scratches the little dog’s fluffy head. ‘He’s cute – but we don’t want him here, mate. We’re not set up for dogs.’

 

‘But Mum’s going away for the weekend.’

 

‘She is, is she?’ Matthew looks even more pissed off.

 

‘Yeah, and she said we had to bring him.’ Is Luke’s lower lip trembling now? These children are so vulnerable it seems.

 

‘Oh we’ll manage, won’t we, Matt?’ I say quickly. ‘It’s okay, Luke.’

 

‘I suppose so.’ Matthew sighs again. ‘Well tell your sister that if he craps on the carpet, she’s cleaning it up.’

 

‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘We can take him to the woods with us. What’s his name?’ I tickle his chin – but I won’t look into his eyes. That was my mistake with Smudge.

 

‘Justin,’ Luke says.

 

‘As in time?’ Matthew jokes. ‘Ridiculous name for a dog.’

 

‘No.’ Luke rolls his eyes at his father’s stupidity. ‘As in Bieber.’

 

12 p.m.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

We wrap up warm and take the dog on the walk. He doesn’t have a lead, so we stop at the pet shop on the high street, and the twins choose a purple suede one, as well as a dog bed and some toys.

 

As we amble through the trees, Matthew’s arm around me, I’m pleased that even Scarlett seems to be enjoying herself – although the poor little puppy gets confused a few times and, by the end, has to be carried, none too enamoured with the brambles or the scary big trees.

 

Still, it’s the most family-oriented time I’ve ever spent with the twins – and I haven’t even worried about Matthew showing me affection in front of them. I’m ebullient as we drive home, singing along to Ellie Goulding – although there are some rumblings in the back about ‘proper’ music.

 

It’s only when we get back and I run upstairs to change my muddy jeans that I remember the missing letters.

 

Downstairs Matthew is busy in the kitchen for once. He makes popcorn and hot chocolate for the kids, pours us a glass of wine and reveals a load of old home movies he’s had transferred to DVD.

 

I perch on the arm of the sofa, my sense of security dissolving as reality sets in. Watching their old memories is hard.

 

The home movies are mainly of the twins, of course – holidays, special occasions, birthdays and school plays – but occasionally there are shots of Kaye, usually in huge sunglasses and a miniscule bikini or a radically cutaway swimsuit, lounging by a turquoise pool or watching a sunset. There’s a whole five minutes of the twins shooting on the range at Gleneagles, high-fiving and laughing, and then Kaye in a stupid fur hat grinning into the camera.