The Family Next Door(48)

31


FRAN


Fran had been for a blissfully intense run. She’d run so fast and for so long that she wasn’t conscious of a single, solitary thought. People often said they went for a run to “clear their head,” but those people wanted their thoughts to become clearer. Fran wanted the opposite. She wanted her head entirely empty, devoid of thoughts, and a run always did just that for her. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Which meant Fran was going to have to try something else. The truth.

She let herself inside. Nigel and Rosie sat at the dining room table, with LEGOs sprawled out in front of them. Fran felt a jolt of surprise at seeing Rosie. In the middle of her thoughts about life-changing confessions, she’d forgotten her children existed.

“Mummy!” Rosie said. “I’ve built you a house. You won’t be able to live in it, because it’s tiny and it’s pretend and it’s made of LEGOs.”

Fran felt touched. Rosie never made her anything. Everything was always for Nigel. She was also surprised to see them playing with LEGOs. It was rare to see Nigel engage in noneducational toys.

“It’s great,” Fran said, pulling up a seat next to Nigel. “I like red.”

“There’s also some green and a bit of yellow,” Rosie added.

Indeed there was. Fran felt a wave of affection for Rosie’s spectrum-like accuracy. She looked at Nigel. He’d sorted the entire box of LEGOs into colors, which he had divided into clear ziplock bags, with another bag for all the instructions. She should have known he’d have come up with a better use of his time than actually creating something.

A sudden, aching pang of love nearly knocked her over. Why did I cheat on this man? she thought. Why couldn’t I have supported him through the rough times like a good wife would have done?

“I’ll just go check on Ava,” she said, starting to stand. She was halfway out of her seat when Nigel reached for her.

“Ava’s fine,” he said. “Just … sit for a little while. We want Mummy here with us, don’t we, Rosie?”

Rosie nodded enthusiastically. “We love Mummy.”

They beamed at her, identical smiles that very nearly made Fran feel happy. But it was too out of character. Nigel must have spoken to Rosie, said something like: Mummy’s not doing very well right now so we need to be nice to her. They were both looking at her a little too often. Their eyes were a little too soft.

“I love you too—”

“I need a wee,” Rosie said, jumping up. She scampered off. Fran felt relieved to have one less pair of eyes on her.

Nigel scooted his seat a little closer. “I feel like I’ve been neglecting you,” he said. “And I’m sorry. Rosie and I have decided to make it up to you.”

Stop, Fran thought. Please stop.

“I know you’re struggling, and I’m going to step up. Maybe we should have a date night? I know you don’t want to leave Ava, but we could ask Isabelle to babysit, or maybe Essie’s mum. Barbara loves babies.”

Fran picked up Rosie’s pretend LEGO house. It had a tiny purple flower on one of the red bricks that Rosie had failed to mention when reciting its colors.

“Why don’t I speak to Barbara and I’ll book La Svolta for dinner,” he said. “One night next week, maybe. We could—”

“I had an affair last year, Nigel. And Ava might not be yours.”

Her voice was even and clear, soft and serious. There was no room for misunderstanding. She put down the LEGO house.

Rosie ran back into the room. “I want to make a car. But you won’t be able to drive it because it’s too small and it will be made of LEGOs.”

Rosie clambered onto the chair opposite them and took the house that Fran had been holding. She reached for the blue LEGOs and began assembling her car while Nigel and Fran stared at each other over the top of her head.





32


ESSIE


“Are we just doing a trim today?”

Essie stared into the shockingly well-lit mirror in the front window of her hairdresser. She wore no makeup, of course, and she looked awful. Old. Her eyes were circled with purple and her skin had a faint sheen to it, like she was getting ill. And there was something else too. She looked thin. Almost … gaunt. When had she gotten thin?

The hairdresser—a new girl named Kym who was in her early twenties with ironic gray hair and huge pale blue eyes—clearly misinterpreted her lengthy pause.

“Or do we want a restyle?”

Kym was pulling and tousling Essie’s hair and peering into it as if she was searching for treasure in amongst the strands. It looked like a reddish-brown sea of tangles, long and shapeless, hanging halfway down her back. No wonder Essie’s mum had taken it upon herself to book her an appointment. “Uh … a restyle?”

Kym lit up. “Cut and color?”

“Well…” Essie had never colored her hair before, largely because she knew color took a long time. Upward of three hours. Who had time for that? But today the idea of three hours away from her children filled her with joy.

“Sure. Cut and color.”

“Perfect,” Kym said, and disappeared to get her “color board.” She left Essie with an iPad to google styles she liked. While Kym was gone another girl came to ask if she’d like a tea or coffee. Essie ordered a peppermint tea, but the moment the girl disappeared to make it Essie thought: Did I just order peppermint tea?