The Switch(44)

‘The Easter bunny,’ she breathes, gazing up at me. ‘WOW.’

‘Samantha, my daughter,’ Jackson says from behind me. ‘She’s a very firm believer in the Easter bunny.’

This is a clear warning. What does he think I am, a monster? I may despise being dressed as a ridiculous rabbit, but there is clearly only one appropriate way to respond to this situation.

‘Well, hello there, Samantha,’ I say, crouching down. ‘I’m so glad I’ve found you!’

‘Found me?’ she says, eyes like saucers.

‘I left my burrow early this morning and I’ve been hopping all over the Yorkshire Dales looking for somebody who might be able to help me, and I think you could well be just the person, Samantha.’

‘Me?’ Samantha breathes.

‘Well, let’s see, shall we? Do you like chocolate eggs?’

‘Yes!’ Samantha says, with a little jump.

‘Are you good at hiding things?’

‘Yes!’ Samantha says.

‘Like my left shoe,’ Jackson says dryly from behind me, though I can hear he’s smiling. ‘Which you did a very good job of hiding this morning.’

‘A very good job,’ Samantha says earnestly, gaze fixed on my face.

‘And – now, this one is very important, Samantha – can you keep secrets? Because if you’re going to be the Easter bunny’s helper, you’re going to know where all the chocolate eggs are hidden. And all the other children will be asking you for clues.’

‘I won’t tell!’ Samantha says. ‘I won’t!’

‘Well then,’ I say, straightening up and turning back to Jackson. ‘I do believe I’ve found my special helper.’

Jackson grins at me. It’s the first full smile I’ve ever seen him do – he’s got dimples, proper ones, one in each cheek. He swoops in and grabs Samantha by the armpits, swinging her up on to his hip.

‘What a lucky young lady,’ he says, burying his face in her neck until she’s almost choking with giggles.

Something flips in my tummy at the sight of Samantha in his arms – it’s a sort of sudden-onset fuzziness, as though my brain’s gone as fleecy as my trousers.

‘Thank you,’ Jackson mouths at me. He bends and picks up the basket of eggs, handing it to Samantha. She leans her head against his shoulder with the perfect trust of a child. ‘Ready?’

Samantha wriggles out of his arms and runs towards me, stretching her free hand up to take mine. As Jackson lets her go his face softens into an expression of such vulnerability, as if he loves her so much it hurts, and it’s so raw and personal I turn my eyes away – it doesn’t feel like something I’m meant to see. That fuzziness in my belly intensifies as Samantha’s little fingers grip my hand.

Jackson bends to give her a quick kiss on the forehead, then opens the door to the village hall.

‘Better get going, you two,’ he says. ‘Oh, and Leena?’

‘Yeah?’

‘The Easter bunny skips. Everywhere she goes. Swinging the basket. Just a reminder.’

‘Does she now?’ I say, through gritted teeth.

He flashes me another grin, but before I can say anything else, a skipping Samantha is dragging me down the steps and out into the rain.





16


Eileen


I feel like the woman in one of those perfume adverts on the television. You know the sort: the one who swans along with her feet a few inches off the ground, draped in chiffon, beaming ecstatically, perhaps while passers-by burst spontaneously into song.

I spent the night in Tod’s bed. He really is an extraordinary man. I haven’t had sex – by any definition – in about twenty years, and it’s certainly changed somewhat, now that I’m seventy-nine, but it’s still bloody wonderful. It did take me a little while to get back in the swing, and I’m rather achy in some peculiar places, but lord, it’s worth it.

Tod is clearly a very experienced gentleman. I don’t mind if the lines he spun about my beautiful body and my glowing skin were just that, lines – they did the trick. I haven’t felt this good in years.

I’m meeting Bee this morning for a cup of coffee. She wants to hear all the gossip on Tod, she says. I think she’s rather missing Jaime, who’s with her father’s family for Easter, but still, I was rather touched to receive her message.

The coffee shop where we’re meeting is called Watson’s Coffee, and it’s very trendy. Two of the walls are painted green and the other two are painted pink. There are fake stag horns above the coffee bar and a collection of neon candles half melted at the centre of each steel-grey table. The overall effect is vaguely ridiculous, and it’s horribly busy – it’s Easter Monday, so of course nobody is at work, and around here if you’re not in an office it seems you’ve got to be in a coffee shop.

Bee has managed to get us a table. She smiles up at me as I approach, that warm, open smile I glimpsed when she showed me the pictures of her daughter. It has an astonishing effect, that smile, like a warm spotlight pointing your way. Her hair is pinned back behind her ears, showing off a striking silver necklace sitting at her collarbone; she’s dressed in a beautiful turquoise dress that’s somehow more provocative for covering almost everything up.