Friend Request(33)
There were only a couple of minutes left before the bell would go for maths. Sophie’s leg pressed against mine under the table, and Claire and Joanne were openly staring, willing me to action. I knew Sophie was looking at me too, but I kept my eyes fixed on our form teacher, her words like a foreign language, floating meaninglessly over the pounding of the blood in my head.
The pressure against my leg lessened, and that was when I realised that Sophie was taking matters into her own hands. She reached into my bag and took something out, something that she held in her closed fist. If Maria hadn’t hung her bag on the side of the chair nearest to Sophie, I don’t think Sophie could have done it without drawing undue attention to herself, but she simply reached across me, shook the bag and withdrew her hand all in one smooth motion. For a final touch, she slipped the sandwich bag back into my school bag with a pointed glare at me.
I don’t know exactly what Sophie was expecting in terms of a reaction from Maria. I heard Maria say to Esther that she needed to check if she had her maths textbook. Before I knew it, my hand shot out and tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Maria. There’s something I need to —’
She cut me off as soon as I began to speak.
‘Leave me alone,’ she said in a low, cold voice without looking up from her bag.
‘No, I know, but please —’
‘I said, leave me alone.’ This time she did look at me, hardening her face, determined not to betray the slightest hint of emotion.
I sat back, defeated, as she opened her bag and started to reach in. It felt as though the whole world was holding its breath. Her hand stopped. I could feel rather than see Sophie’s anticipation next to me, but if she was hoping for screams and histrionics she was disappointed.
Maria stared into her bag for a few seconds, the blood that had rushed to her face whilst she was speaking to me seeping out of it, leaving her skin pale and thinly stretched over her bones. She withdrew her hand, inch by inch, and stood up slowly.
‘I’m just going to the toilet. I’ll see you in maths,’ she said to Esther. Her voice was low but impressively steady.
As she left the room, she turned to look at me, her face impassive. If she was close to tears she didn’t show it. The impression she gave was one of sheer fury, the kind that can fling objects across the room with its power. Without speaking, she told me she had the measure of me now, that she would make sure I would live to regret this day. I sat motionless at my desk, and felt a cold chill of fear trickle down my spine.
Chapter 14
2016
Usually I wake as soon as Henry pushes open the door, but the morning after my dinner with Polly, the first thing I am aware of is his warm body slipping under the duvet in the semi-darkness, his hair tickling my face as he snuggles into me. I glance at the clock; it’s nine o’clock already, he’s slept much later than he normally would. I pull him closer, burying my nose in the nape of his neck, wondering as I always do when he will lose this delicious smell. He won’t smell like this when he’s fifteen, but what about in five years’ time? Will I still be able to breathe him into me like this? Sometimes I wonder what the effect of all this love will be on him later in life. All the experts seem to agree that you can’t give a child too much love, but what if you can? What if you smother him with it, or ruin him for ever by raising his expectations of how other people will feel about him? Nobody will ever love him this much again.
He sighs happily. ‘What day is it?’
No matter how many times we practise the days of the week he is still none the wiser, each new day a delicious surprise.
‘Saturday.’
‘Is it a Daddy Saturday?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh good.’
One of the only things I am grateful to Sam for is his timing. Henry was just two when he left and has no memory at all of Sam and I living together. He was recently invited to play at a new school friend’s house, the first time he has had an invitation that didn’t include me. At bedtime that night as I arranged the cuddly toys in their correct rows, he told me in great wonderment that Josh’s mum and dad were both there, that they all lived together. I sold Henry the fantasy that he was lucky, he had two homes, and extra people to love him, but it was hollow on my tongue.
The wine I had with Polly has left me dry-mouthed and headachey. I leave Henry in my bed watching TV and stumble into the kitchen to make his jam toast. My laptop is still open on the table, a physical reminder of how the past won’t let me go. I want so much to call Polly and tell her everything. The desire to unburden myself is like a hard stone in the pit of my stomach. But I have to keep reminding myself that I can’t, I can’t risk alienating Polly. She’d never understand, especially given what’s going on with Phoebe.
What I wish more than anything is that my life could go back to the way it was before I got the Facebook request, to the time when everything was put away in its proper place inside my head. It has taken me so long to get everything into those compartments. I’ve only recently got back on track, got the things back in their boxes, made some new slots. And this time it’s Maria who is in there, rummaging around, taking things out and holding them up in the cold clear light of day.
As the milk froths energetically away and the machine flashes, heralding the imminent arrival of my coffee, my phone starts ringing in my bag which is hanging from the back of one of the kitchen chairs. I rummage through old tissues, train tickets and broken pens, reaching it just in time before the voicemail kicks in. It’s a mobile number, one I don’t have in my phone.