The First Mistake(9)

‘How long will it take to build?’ I ask.

‘They’re looking to do it in two hits,’ he says. ‘The first phase will be completed in twelve months and the second will be around six months later. It’s a lot of work, Alice, and it’ll all come at you pretty quickly.’

‘It’s what I’ve been waiting for,’ I say. ‘This is it. This is the big one.’

He trails my jawline with his finger. ‘I only want to do this if you’re sure you can handle it. I can’t risk you having a relapse, so if you have any reservations, any at all, then you need to say.’

I remember a time, not so long ago, when the very thought of it would have had me running for the hills. A time when I was scared of my own shadow, let alone the one created by the black dog that seemed destined to be by my side forever more. Back then, I was so far down that hole that I even began to seek the darkness out, believing that it was my only true friend.

I could barely get out of bed, only doing so to deposit Sophia in the playground, before sloping back to hide under the duvet, where my thoughts would poison even the brightest of days. At three o’clock, I’d get up again and convince myself that no one would notice my stained joggers as I waited at the school gates, head down, trying to hide from anyone who was brave enough to look. Ironically, it might have only taken one person to show an interest for my faith in humanity to have been restored. But on the rare occasion I was looking, all I could see was embarrassment and avoidance. I knew I was being ridiculed and reviled, spoken about and ostracized, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything other than being a mother, and even then, I was barely functioning. Just thinking about it makes my breath come in short, sharp pants.

‘Are you sure you’re ready for this?’ asks Nathan again.

I nod my head, aggrieved at his lack of confidence in me, though I have to dig deep to find it myself. ‘I’m absolutely ready for this, Nathan. I’m not going back to where I was.’

‘Well, I’ll be here to help and give you all the support you need, but ultimately it’s your face that fronts the company, it’s your talent that delivers results and it’s you who people want to work with.’

I smile and hold his hands. ‘But it’s you who runs things behind the scenes and I couldn’t do what I do if it weren’t for you. We’re in this together.’

He lifts my hands to his lips. ‘And Sophia, how’s she getting on with her exams?’

‘She’s got her final one on Friday,’ I grimace. ‘Maths, of all things. I mean, you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy, would you?’

‘That’s because you haven’t got a head for figures,’ he says, laughing. ‘Remind me what you got in your maths final exams.’

‘Er, a U,’ I mumble.

‘What was that?’ he says, leaning in with a hand cupped to his ear. ‘Can you repeat that? Louder.’

I swipe him on the arm with a tea towel. ‘A U,’ I almost shout.

‘And what does U stand for?’ he says, holding himself up against the kitchen worktop for fear of falling to the ground laughing.

‘Unclassified,’ I say.

‘So, you did so badly that they couldn’t possibly grade it?’ he manages.

‘That’s why I had to marry you,’ I say triumphantly, as I kiss him. ‘So you could do my numbers for me.’

‘So, is she going to be okay?’ he asks.

I look at him perplexed, momentarily forgetting what we were talking about.

‘Sophia,’ he says, reading my confused expression. ‘Does she think she’s done enough revision?’

‘Well, she’s a walking mass of hormones at the moment, so your guess is as good as mine.’

‘We were all teenagers once,’ he says, as he appreciatively takes a sip of his drink.

‘I can’t remember that far back,’ I say, kissing him. ‘Thank God.’ I can taste the gin on his lips, the tang of the juniper berries reminding me of Christmases gone by.

‘Urgh, can the pair of you get a room?’ says Sophia in mock horror, appearing in the doorway. Or perhaps her revulsion is real – it’s hard to tell these days.

‘Hey sweetheart,’ says Nathan. ‘How’s it going?’ He opens out his arm for her to walk into and pulls her towards him, kissing the top of her head as it falls heavily on his shoulder. ‘What’s going on with you?’

‘I hate my life,’ she says, her arms dangling loosely by her sides. ‘I can’t wait for these exams to be over.’

‘School is the easy part,’ I say. ‘Just wait until you’re a grown-up.’

‘Oh, here we go. Your school days are the best days of your life . . .’ she mimics in a sing-song voice. ‘Blah, blah, blah . . .’

I have to stop myself from laughing. Do I really say that? I wasn’t aware I’d turned into my mother. I pull a face behind her back and Nathan gives me the stern eye.

‘They are,’ I insist. ‘Believe you me, if I could have my time over again—’

‘Except you wouldn’t,’ she says. ‘You couldn’t wait to get out of school. Grandma said you barely stayed long enough to sit your exams.’

She does have a point, but I’d prefer to give her my version of events than have my mother tell her how it really was. I cringe inwardly as I recall my high school days, remembering the misery I felt on a daily basis. I’d spent the first two years being bullied, and wishing, more than anything, that I was part of the ‘in crowd’. I’d then spent the next three years in it, and desperate to get out.