My Husband's Wife(53)

Not now that Larry was standing right in front of her, next to Mamma. The two of them against her.

Carla’s breath caught in her throat. ‘I told you. I thought it was that strange person. The one who makes calls and says nothing.’

‘It is true,’ burst in Mamma. Her face was anxious. Scared in the way that it was when a brown envelope arrived in the post with the words ‘Overdue’ in red on the inside. ‘I have had these calls myself. They scare us.’

Larry’s eyes flickered. ‘Then you must tell the police.’

Mamma let out a shrill laugh. ‘What do they care? They cannot even stop the kids from breaking windows. This place, it is not good. Even Ed says so.’

Larry’s face jerked as if someone had attached a line to the end of his long thin nose and pulled it up tightly. ‘Who is Ed?’

‘You know.’ Carla’s voice was cut through with scorn. ‘He is the neighbour who looks after me with his wife while Mamma works.’ She stressed the word ‘works’ so there was no doubt about her meaning. Mamma does not really work on Sundays. She spends time with you instead of with me.

But Larry’s gaze was sliding to her wrist. ‘Are you not wearing your watch?’

‘It doesn’t work.’

‘Is that so?’

Why did he sound amused and not cross?

Anger made her reckless. ‘Did you buy your daughter one too?’

Perhaps it was just as well that Mamma had now gone into the kitchen to put on the kettle. Larry’s face came very close to hers. She could smell the whisky.

‘You think you are very clever, don’t you, Carla?’

No, she wanted to say. No. I am stupid at maths although my new friend helps me now. But instead of replying, she focused on a mark on his neck which looked like ketchup. If she did that, it might stop her from speaking again.

‘No comment, eh?’ Larry stood back as if appraising her. ‘I approve of that. You think you are clever because you are clever, Carla. Believe me. You might not think it, but it’s true. One day you’ll go far.’

Then his eyes narrowed. ‘I just don’t know which way. Up or down. It’s up to you.’

Two weeks later, Carla came back from school beside herself with excitement. ‘My friend Maria has asked me to her house for tea,’ she sang.

Mamma was at the door. They had agreed that now Carla was ten, she should be allowed to come home from school on her own providing that she never, ever talked to strangers. And this school was much closer, so Carla never got lost.

‘That is such an honour!’ Mamma was flushed, and for a moment Carla wondered if Larry was here. Mamma always got redder when he was here.

But no. The flat was empty.

‘Next Wednesday!’ The words fell out of Carla’s mouth in no particular order. ‘Her mother, she will pick me up from school. Then she will bring me home again. We’re going to play with her Barbies.’

‘Her mother drives?’ Mamma’s eyes grew envious.

Carla nodded. ‘All the mothers do. Please, Mamma. Please say I can go.’

‘But of course.’ Her mother was all smiles again. ‘It is good that you have new friends. Nice friends at this new school. A mother who drives herself must have a lot of money, don’t you think?’

It was true. Maria lived in a house which was big enough to take in both number 3 and number 7, and maybe one more in their apartment block too.

The food was delicious. It wasn’t pasta.

‘Steak,’ said her friend’s mother, noticing how she was tucking in. ‘You like it?’

Carla nodded again, not wanting to speak with her mouth full. She also took care to hold the knife and fork in the same way that her friend and mother did. Afterwards, she offered to dry up.

Maria’s mother beamed. ‘I can see you have been well brought up! Actually we have a dishwasher, but you girls can help me load it.’

What a clever machine!

‘The plates slot in sideways. That’s right!’ She handed Carla another plate while continuing to chat as if she was a proper grown-up. It made Carla feel good about herself. ‘Maria tells me that your mother comes from Italy like my husband. Whereabouts is she from?’

Carla hesitated, not wanting to seem stupid. Mamma always got so upset when she asked questions about her family that she didn’t like to ask too much. ‘I am not sure, but I know there is a valley surrounded by hills and mountains. I’ve heard her say it’s about an hour’s drive from Florence up a very steep, twisty road.’

‘Really? I must ask my husband if he knows where that is. He comes from the centre of Florence, you know. It’s where we met.’ Her eyes went dreamy. ‘Have you ever been?’

‘No.’ Carla shook her black curls. ‘But Mamma says that we will visit one day.’

This wasn’t strictly true, but it seemed to be the right thing to say, because her friend’s mother then invited them to help themselves to an ice cream out of the freezer. One day, Carla told herself, she would have a freezer and a dishwasher and a pretty dressing table like the one in her friend’s bedroom. Then she and Mamma would finally be happy.

Later, Maria’s mother dropped her off outside the flats where the usual group of boys were standing, doing nothing, kicking their shoes against the wall.