The Woman Next Door(71)

‘This must be the grandchild you mentioned! Hello sweetie?’ She bends over a bit and beams at Amber.

To my immense gratification, Amber shies away and hides her face. I have to contract my cheeks to stop myself from beaming.

Binnie frowns. ‘Oh dear,’ she says, cheeks darkening further. ‘It must be very hard. I take my hat off to you, Hester, I really do.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ I say frostily.

‘Well …’ Binnie fusses with her scarf and her eyes go all skittery. ‘I can see that she is … well, special. It can’t be easy.’

I have to breathe deeply in and out a few times before speaking.

‘She certainly is special,’ I say. ‘She’s a very special and sweet little girl. Now I really must get on.’

And with that, I bundle Amber into the café, leaving Binnie standing outside.

When we are seated a young woman with a cheerful smile grins at Amber and asks what she would like to eat and drink. Amber responds with ‘cake’ and ‘milkshake’ and, after a little further coaxing for specifics, the waitress bustles off.

I must confess to needing a bit of a sit-down. I hadn’t realized quite how tiring it would be, looking after a five-year-old. I suppose I am a little out of practice since my days at the nursery.

I am having tea and a bun. Amber tucks messily into her chocolate cake and strawberry milkshake. Perhaps I should have gone for something a little healthier, but isn’t that what they say about grannies? That they spoil their grandchildren in the way they never did with the parents?

I stir my tea absent-mindedly, thinking about the awful prospect of taking Amber home. What if Kerry won’t let me see her again?

‘What you doing, Hester?’

Amber’s fluting little voice brings me back to the room, and I look down to discover that I have been pulling the bun into tiny pieces that cover my half of the table in sticky crumbs.

‘Messy Hester,’ says Amber sternly.

The sound coming from my bag now is so unfamiliar it takes me a moment to register what is happening.

‘Is it my mummy calling? Is it my nanna Phyllis?’

‘Oh, yes, I’d better …’

I’d given Kerry the number. Had to. She’d insisted. I scowl at the phone now as I see the words ‘Unknown Number’ flashing up and I somehow know it’s her. Who else would be ringing? With a sigh I hold it to my ear.

I can’t work out what she’s saying at first, her words are so garbled. Then I realize she’s crying noisily. I make out ‘Jamie’ and ‘Can’t believe it’, before she descends into a loud, snotty, nose-blow. Glancing quickly at Amber I get up, mouthing, ‘Can’t hear! Back in a minute!’ cheerfully before hurrying to the door of the café. This isn’t a conversation a child needs to hear.

‘What is it, Kerry, what’s wrong?’ I say once I am outside.

Here we go …

I turn back to see Amber twisting in her seat to look. I only have a few moments before she follows me out here.

‘It’s Jamie!’ wails Kerry. ‘He’s dead! They found him in a river! What am I going to do? How can I tell Amber?’

‘Oh dear, dear,’ I soothe, ‘how dreadful! You poor thing!’

She goes on for a while longer, as I look anxiously back into the café. The waitress is bending down and speaking to Amber now. I make the right noises for a while then interrupt her, trying not to sound impatient.

‘Look, why don’t you let me have her for a few more hours until you get yourself together? Can someone come and sit with you?’

She tells me her mother is coming from Manchester on a coach that will get in the following morning. Maybe this is the granny that Amber mentioned before; the one with a dog. I continue, ‘It won’t be good for Amber to see her mummy so upset, will it? Why don’t I bring her back in the morning when you’ve had a proper sleep and time to calm down?’

She protests, but weakly. I almost can’t believe it when she agrees. What kind of mother is she to let her little girl go off with a stranger?

I gaze back through the steamy window of the café and see that Amber is now making her way to the door, her face scrunched with imminent tears.

I hurry back in towards her.

‘Guess what!’ I say, bending down so I am at her height. ‘Mummy says we can go to the toy shop and then you can come and spend a whole night with Bertie! What do you think about that?’

She regards me suspiciously for a few moments then slips her hand into mine. ‘Toy shop now,’ she orders.

‘Your wish is my command,’ I say, joy expanding in my chest. I almost want to thank Melissa for this gift. Maybe it was part of a grand plan all along. Who am I to say?





MELISSA


The percussion of cutlery against plate, glass against tabletop, fork against teeth crashes against Melissa’s eardrums.

The world seems to be entirely composed of sound. Tilly sniffs repeatedly and Mark gives little satisfied ‘Mmms’, as though the lamb isn’t grey and acrid, the vegetables shrivelled and tasteless. She feels a powerful urge to throw her empty wine glass across the room and start screaming until her throat bleeds.

Instead, she gets up from the table, aware that Mark and Tilly are both watching her, and retrieves the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the fridge. There isn’t that much left so she decides to finish the bottle.