The Babysitter(30)
‘Did you remember to book the table for tonight?’ Mel asked him.
Crap. ‘No, sorry.’ Mark squeezed his eyes closed, realising he’d forgotten. They were supposed to be going out with the Chandlers to celebrate Emily’s birthday, and it had completely slipped his mind. The broken nights, coupled with his increasing nightmares, were taking their toll on him too.
‘Oh Mark, honestly… I thought you’d done it days ago.’ Mel sounded utterly despairing.
‘I’ll do it now,’ Mark promised.
‘Forget it. I’ll do it,’ Mel said tetchily. ‘I doubt they’ll have a table now anyway.’
‘Mel, I’ll do it,’ Mark assured her, concerned by her obvious agitation. He’d been trying not to worry about it, putting Mel’s irritability down to stress, but, frankly, he was alarmed. Whether or not she was getting up in the night to see to Evie, she was exhausted. She looked exhausted. And where previously Mel would have been unfazed by something like a dripping tap – grabbing the tool box, in fact, and changing the washer herself – the one that was constantly dripping in the utility was driving her mad. Mark had put it on his weekend to-do list. It was no big deal – but to Mel it obviously was. She’d looked… edgy. It was the only way to describe it. It just wasn’t like her.
He was about to reassure her again that he would ring the restaurant and then call her straight back when Mel practically growled down the phone, ‘Oh for God’s sake, now the bloody fuse box has blown. We really need to spend some serious money on this house, Mark, or move.’ And with that, she ended the call.
Staring askance at his mute phone for a second, Mark shook his head. Mel had chosen the house. A detached farmhouse in the peaceful countryside, but with neighbours close enough for it not to feel isolated, she’d loved it on sight, particularly the outbuilding, which was perfect for her workshop. A fantastic family home, she’d said, her glorious green eyes dancing with excitement as she’d viewed it. She’d been willing him to love it too. Mark had, but with reservations. Despite the obvious attractions – oak flooring, oak joinery, stone fireplaces and the airy feel to it, thanks to the many windows looking onto the spectacular Herefordshire countryside – it was going to need a hell of a lot of money spent on it. Even with the small trust fund Mel had been left by her mother, the renovation was going to have to be done as and when finances allowed, they’d both been aware of that. That hadn’t been a problem either. Until now, apparently.
Mark swallowed back an uneasy feeling, wondering whether her recent behaviour might be symptomatic of something more, something he hadn’t realised she might be struggling with. She hadn’t suffered postnatal depression after having Poppy, but might she be suffering with it now? Mark had no idea. He was debating whether to suggest Mel make a doctor’s appointment, which he was loath to do, recalling how hard she’d worked to be free of doctors and psychotic drugs after losing Jacob, but…
‘Hello, earth to Mark,’ Lisa said, standing next to his desk.
‘Sorry.’ Mark shook himself. ‘Miles away.’
‘I gathered. Coffee,’ she said, parking a mug next to his PC. ‘You look like shit,’ she added bluntly.
Running a hand over his unshaven cheek, Mark straightened himself up in his chair. He guessed he did, which wouldn’t go down well with Edwards. ‘Cheers, Lisa,’ he said, then feeling in need of a caffeine kick, picked up his coffee. ‘You do my ego the world of good.’
‘I’m thinking a decent night’s sleep might do you more good.’ Lisa cocked her head to one side, studying him thoughtfully. ‘I take it Evie’s disturbing your beauty sleep? Not that you need much beauty sleep, obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ Mark concurred, his mouth twitching into a smile. ‘Her routine’s gone to pot,’ he confided, glad, not for the first time, that he could talk to Lisa. It made life a whole lot easier at work, particularly now Cummings was back after his sudden mystery illness. It had been no surprise to Mark he’d gone off sick, probably hoping to avoid a confrontation with him. Mark’s anger boiled afresh as he recalled his treatment of Tanya Stevens.
Rolling her eyes, Lisa empathised. ‘Babies.’ She sighed expansively. ‘If anyone had told me what I was in for, I’d never have had sex.’
‘Still, at least it was only the twice, hey, Moyes? Brave bloke,’ Cummings commented crassly, winking over his shoulder as he swung by towards the coffee machine.
Lisa settled for giving him a finger rather than verbalising her thoughts. ‘I take it you’ve tried all the usual tricks?’ she asked Mark. ‘White noise, temperature, lighting, varying the rocking, breathing deeply if none of the above work?’
‘Yup, pretty much everything. Or rather, Jade has.’
‘Jade?’
‘The babysitter.’
‘Ah.’ Lisa nodded, but looked perplexed. ‘I didn’t know you had one.’
‘We do now,’ Mark said. ‘Live in, thank God. She’s amazing with the kids, but—’
‘Night excursions in the car not working then, sir?’ Cummings enquired sarcastically, as he sauntered back in the other direction.
‘Fuck off, Cummings,’ said Lisa, obviously noticing Mark’s agitation and answering for him.