The First Mistake(14)

It had been my suggestion, a way of getting myself off the hook, but Nathan had readily agreed. If he felt I’d manipulated the situation, he didn’t say.

‘Seriously?’ chokes Lottie, her voice high. ‘Oh my God, seriously?’

He smiles. ‘Yes, seriously. What do you say?’

I choose to bat away the uncomfortable sensation that is swirling in my stomach; pretending that it’s just nerves about the job. But as much as I try to disguise it, the green-eyed monster won’t be silenced. I wanted to be the one to pull it all together, be the first to see the end result.

You could, the voice in my head says. If you were brave enough.

‘It would be a really wonderful opportunity for you Lottie,’ I say, with a smile fixed on my face. ‘And we’re confident you’ll do it with aplomb.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ she says. ‘Of course, yes, yes, yes.’ She instinctively jumps out of her chair and throws her arms around Nathan. ‘Thank you, I won’t let you down.’

Lottie’s blonde hair swishes from side to side as she makes her way towards me, and I get up out of my chair, ready to receive her gratitude. ‘I don’t know what else to say apart from thank you,’ she says, putting her arms around me.

‘Well, we haven’t got the job yet,’ I say, seemingly conscious that we shouldn’t be getting ahead of ourselves. But I half-wonder if I just say it to rain on her parade.

‘How come you’ve got Daddy’s car?’ squeals Olivia as she jumps into the front passenger seat of Nathan’s BMW later on, when I pick her up after school. ‘Is he at home?’

‘Because mine’s in for a service and no, he’s not,’ I say.

‘Aww, when’s he going to be back? Will I see him before I go to bed?’

‘I don’t think so, sweetie, he’s playing golf and then going out for dinner.’

‘But he’s always out,’ she moans.

I wonder why she feels that way. It certainly doesn’t feel like that to me, but maybe the perception of time veers wildly between the two of us. What’s my hour must feel like her day, and my week, her month. That’s how I remember feeling about my dad, as a kid. He very rarely went out, but on the odd occasion he’d go to the pub, straight from the building site on a Friday, with his bulging wage packet in his pocket, it felt like forever until I saw him again on Saturday morning.

‘You’ll see him tomorrow,’ I promise. ‘It’s the weekend.’

‘Yay,’ she says, fidgeting with her seatbelt, not wanting to let go of the jam jar housing the painted lady caterpillar the school has helpfully asked us to look after whilst it morphs into a chrysalis.

‘Forget it, little lady, you’re not staying there. In the back.’

‘But Daddy lets me,’ she whines as she clumsily gets out, dropping the hungry caterpillar into the abyss of the footwell.

‘Livvy,’ I shriek. ‘Be careful.’

‘Ooops!’ She laughs.

‘Well, he shouldn’t,’ I say. ‘You’re not allowed to.’

The lid has popped off the jar and the hairy slug-like insect is tantalizingly close to poking its head out. I reach down and under the seat, frantically feeling around for the lid.

‘But why not?’ she goes on.

I blindly touch upon a sharp object and instinctively pull my hand away, still no closer to locating the lid. I go in again, as if I’m doing a bush tucker trial, not knowing what’s under there or where the sharp object is. I’m reminded of my Aunty Val, who’d have a panic attack every time she had to pop a letter in the postbox. She couldn’t bear to have her hand there, just in case something came out and dragged her in. It got so bad that she’d pay me twenty pence to post her letters for her. In my infinite innocence I’d boldly stride up to the red pillar box, stand on tiptoes and peer into the slot, asking if anyone was in there. What happens to us between then and now, I wonder, as I gingerly poke my hand under the seat again. I come at the object from a different angle and am able to pinch it and pull it up to the light. I can’t make it out at first and hold it aloft to the windscreen. I blink a couple of times, as if to clear my vision, but there’s no mistaking the crystal pear drop earring that’s dangling there.

‘Mummy,’ shrieks Olivia, ‘it’s crawling out.’

‘Oh my God. Livvy, find the lid.’

‘Why can’t I sit in the front?’

‘Because you’re not allowed.’

‘But Daddy lets me.’

‘Livvy, find the lid.’

‘What will happen if it crawls out?’

‘Get in the back seat.’

‘Will Daddy get into trouble?’

I look at the earring again. Oh yes, I think to myself.

‘For letting me sit in the front.’

‘The caterpillar’s getting out.’

‘Find the lid, Mummy.’

‘Yes, because it’s against the law for someone so little to sit in the front.’

‘I can see it. The lid’s back here.’

I want to go on like this. I want to continue our diatribe forever because the longer it goes on, the longer the earring has to change itself into one of mine. I so want it to be mine.