Behind Every Lie(11)
“Not a bother.”
“Do let me take you out to coffee to make it up to you!” She clapped her hands like a child and grinned. “Look, there’s a café just over there!”
“But, your friends—”
“I don’t really know them.” Rose waved a dismissive hand. “We were just chatting about children. Do say yes! It would make me feel so much better about Laura using you as a chew toy!”
“Very well, then.”
Rose called Laura to her, and I had no choice but to follow with Eva. She led us to a wooden pavilion with gray cladding and white trim overlooking the park. She ordered hot chocolate with marshmallows for the children and coffees for us from a spotty teenage boy running the till. I watched her, marveling at how easy she found conversation. It was quite extraordinary. Her tongue did not trip; her gaze did not waver. I found socializing all quite beyond me, really.
The boy behind the cash register seemed a bit overwhelmed by Rose’s attention, his gaze occasionally dropping to the triangle of creamy cleavage exposed where her neckline dipped a little too low. I itched to tug it higher or to scold the boy, but Rose did nothing to discourage him, giving him a five-fingered wave as we headed to an empty table at the back of the café to await our drinks.
As soon as we sat, Rose slipped her heels off, setting them on an empty chair, then stretching her legs out and wiggling her toes. I wrinkled my nose, glancing at the filthy floor.
“Goodness! What was I thinking, wearing heels to the park?” Rose exclaimed with a charmingly self-deprecating laugh. “But I was simply desperate to feel more myself! You know how it is caring for small children. You lose such a piece of yourself!”
The waitress brought our drinks, sloshing liquid onto the table in her hurry to leave.
“Mummy, I wanted marshmallows!” Laura thrust her lower lip out.
Rose looked annoyed, although I could not be certain if it was at Laura or the waitress. She beckoned the waitress back.
“I ordered marshmallows with these,” she said.
The waitress narrowed her eyes. “They sank. You’ll have to go purchase more.”
“Certainly.” Rose began rummaging in her handbag.
“What? No.” The injustice of it upset me greatly, though perhaps it wasn’t my business to intervene. “The air bubbles in marshmallows mean they are less dense than the cocoa. They will float unless you squeeze them into balls to make them more dense than liquid. Did you do that?”
The waitress scowled and stormed away, returning a moment later with a small handful of marshmallows. She dropped them into both mugs of hot chocolate. They bobbed once, twice, then floated to the top. The waitress shuffled away looking embarrassed.
Rose burst out laughing. “That was amazing!”
I smiled and looked down at my coffee. I liked the sound of her laughter and how it made me feel: as if I had just awoken, somehow. There was something about her. She was … magnetic. I was utterly drawn to her.
“Physical laws are infallible,” I said. “It is one of the few certainties in life.”
“Mummy, may I have your biscuit?” Eva asked.
“Certainly, my darling.” I plucked the biscuit off my coffee saucer and handed it to her.
Laura looked expectantly at Rose, but Rose shook her head and laughed, giving a little shrug. “Sorry, I already ate mine!”
She shook three packets of sugar into her coffee, stirred, and took a massive gulp. “I really shouldn’t have another coffee. This is my fourth today!”
Bored with the hot chocolate, Laura grabbed Barnaby from Eva, causing Eva to cry out in dismay. Her eyes, Seb’s sapphire blue, welled with tears. I rummaged in my bag and extracted a pad of paper and some crayons, handing them to Laura whilst retrieving Barnaby for Eva. She was far too old for a security object, but I couldn’t bring myself to take him away. The bear was becoming quite bedraggled these days, the yellow daffodils on his tie fading to a dirty gray. His hat, the trumpet-shape of a daffodil, had detached on one side.
“Oh, do stop being beastly!” Rose exclaimed crossly. She touched her fingertips to her temple and scowled at Laura. “I swear, some days I think about hiring a nanny!”
I tried to imagine the luxury of having someone else do all the dirty work.
“Why don’t you, then?” I asked. “Hire a nanny, I mean.”
She looked surprised. “Well, it … it isn’t what mums do, is it?”
I didn’t know how to respond. Who was I to say what a real mum would do? Mine certainly had been no example to live by.
She took a sip of coffee. “My mum fell ill when I was young and she died a few years later. I suppose I always wanted to create the traditional home I didn’t get.” She looked away. “Hiring a nanny would mean I’d failed at that. That I was a bad mother.”
My gaze leapt to Laura. Her long hair was tangled, her nose crusty with snot, her ballerina outfit streaked with mud. A piece of the gauze at the shoulder was torn. The child desperately needed a bath.
“I reckon it would make you a better mother.” I bit my cheek, embarrassed. “Goodness, that sounded horrible! I do apologize. What I meant is, more hands make light work and all that!”
Rose threw her head back and laughed, exposing her slender neck. “I never thought of it that way. My husband agrees with you,” she admitted. “He’s recently rebranded his art gallery and he’s away on business a lot, so he’s no help whatsoever.”