Truly Madly Guilty(51)

Shut up, shut up, shut up. She couldn’t stop talking.

‘Right,’ said Erika blankly. Normally she would have had an aggravating counter-opinion. Ever since Ruby and Holly were babies Erika had been reading parenting articles relevant to their ages and passing on tips about ‘milestones’. Clementine had always believed this was evidence of Erika’s obsessive, bordering on strange, interest in Clementine’s life, not her interest in having children of her own. How self-obsessed she’d been.

‘Up!’ demanded Ruby as soon as Clementine had finished changing her. She held out her arms to Erika, and Erika lifted her onto her hip. ‘Over there!’ Ruby thrust her body to one side to indicate which direction Erika should head, as if she were astride a recalcitrant horse.

‘You’re a bossy little thing,’ said Erika as she took Ruby closer to the bookshelf, where Clementine could see a porcelain doll that Ruby was hoping she could get her hands on.

‘Oh, that’s what you want! I don’t think we can let you touch that,’ said Erika, and she twisted her body away so that Ruby’s outstretched hands couldn’t grab the doll.

Erika’s eyes met Clementine’s over the top of Ruby’s head. There was something a little unfocused and strange about the way she looked at Clementine, but she didn’t seem hurt or angry. She mustn’t have heard. She wouldn’t have just lurked outside the door listening. That wasn’t Erika’s style. She would have barged right in to hand over the nappy bag, to show up their incompetence, to prove how much better she’d be at this than them.

Clementine watched Erika bend her forehead tenderly towards Ruby’s and she felt choked with guilt for her lack of generosity.

But she still couldn’t – she wouldn’t – do what they’d asked.

I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to do it. She bent down to put the change mat back in the nappy bag, and she realised it wasn’t Erika she was mentally addressing but her mother: I’ve been kind, I’ve been good, but that’s enough now, don’t make me do this too.





chapter twenty-seven



‘Oliver?’ said Erika quietly, just in case he was still asleep. She stood at the end of their bed, looking at him. One arm was outside the covers, bent at an attractive angle to show his very excellent triceps. He was lean, verging on skinny, but well built. (Early in their relationship they’d gone to the beach with Clementine and Sam and Holly, who was a baby at the time, and Clementine had whispered in Erika’s ear, ‘Your new boyfriend is unexpectedly buff, isn’t he?’ It had pleased Erika more than she liked to admit.)

‘Mmmm?’ Oliver rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes.

‘I’m ready to go over to Mum’s place,’ she said.

Oliver yawned, rubbed his eyes and retrieved his glasses from the bedside table. He glanced out the window at the pouring rain. ‘Maybe you should wait till the deluge eases.’

‘I’d be waiting all day,’ said Erika. She looked at her bed, made up with snowy-white, crisp bed linen. Oliver made the bed each day with taut hospital corners. She was surprised by how badly she wanted to take off her clothes and get back into bed with him and just forget everything. She wasn’t normally a napper.

‘How are you feeling?’ she said.

‘I think I might be feeling better,’ said Oliver worriedly. He sat upright in bed and tapped under his eyes, checking his sinuses. ‘Oh, no. I feel good! I should have gone into work.’ Whenever he took a sick day the poor man obsessively monitored his health the whole time in case he was misusing his sick leave entitlements. ‘Or I could help you at your mother’s place.’ He sat up and swung his feet onto the floor. ‘I could change it to a day of personal time.’

‘You need one more day of rest,’ said Erika. ‘And you’re not going near my mother’s place when you’re sick.’

‘Actually I do feel a bit dizzy,’ said Oliver with relief. ‘Yes, I am now experiencing indisputable dizziness. I could not run the audit clearance meeting. No way.’

‘You could not run the audit clearance meeting. Lie back down. I’ll make you some tea and toast before I go.’

‘You’re wonderful,’ he said. He was always so pathetically grateful for any nurturing he got when he was sick. He had been making his own doctor’s appointments by the time he was ten. No wonder he was a hypochondriac. Not that Erika had got much nurturing from having a nurse for a mother, certainly not for sniffles (no warm chicken soup on a tray like Clementine got from Pam) although the few times in her life that Erika had got properly sick her mother had nursed her, and nursed her extremely well, as if she’d finally got interesting.

‘Did I hear you talking to someone on the phone before?’ said Oliver as she was about to leave the room.

‘Clementine,’ said Erika. She hesitated. She didn’t want to tell him she’d said yes. She didn’t want to see him sit bolt upright in bed, the colour back in his cheeks.

Oliver didn’t open his eyes. ‘Any news?’

‘No,’ said Erika. ‘Not yet.’

She just needed to think about it. Today she had that ‘emergency’ session with her psychologist. Maybe that would get things clearer in her mind. So much to cover at today’s session! She might need to bring along an agenda. That wouldn’t make her look like a type-A personality at all. Not that Erika had a problem with being type-A. Why would you want to be any other personality type?