The Child Next Door, Page 4

  ‘You look like crap, Kirstie,’ she says without preamble.

  ‘I feel it.’

  We head into the kitchen.

  ‘Fuck, it’s hot in here,’ she says, screwing up her face and fanning herself with her hand, blood-red fingernails waving back and forth in a crimson blur. ‘Open the doors for Christ’s sake. No wonder you feel rough. I’m already convinced I’ve got the flu and I’ve only been inside your house for thirty seconds.’ She strides over to the bifold doors, turns the key and yanks them all the way back. ‘God, that’s better.’ Mel takes in a deep breath of fresh air, and I can’t help doing the same.

  ‘Hi, Mel,’ I say. ‘Nice to see you, as always.’

  She gives my shoulder a push. ‘Sarky cow. Why does it smell like an old tart’s knickers in here?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear what happened yesterday?’ I ask.

  She shakes her head and sits at the kitchen table.

  ‘Hang on a minute.’ I nip into the lounge and retrieve the baby monitor, before returning to the kitchen where I sit opposite Mel and explain what I heard the night before.

  ‘Weird,’ she says. ‘So that’s why the police came round asking me about babies? They never mentioned you, or what you’d heard. Just asked if I had any babies staying with me, or if I’d seen anyone suspicious hanging around. I wondered what had happened.’

  ‘It’s scary, right?’

  She waggles her head. ‘Hmm, I dunno. I wouldn’t worry about it. Daisy’s okay, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, but only because I’m keeping an eye on her. I’m keeping all the doors and windows locked.’

  ‘Ah, that explains why this place has turned into a sauna. It’s thirty degrees out. You can’t keep yourself sealed in. Let me open some more windows.’ She moves over to the kitchen window but it’s locked. ‘Where’s the key?’

  ‘I think it’s upstairs.’

  ‘Go and get it. You need air in here.’

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s fine.’ The thought of Mel opening all the windows makes my head swim.

  ‘Go and get it, Kirstie.’

  I sigh and do as she asks, tiptoeing up the stairs so as not to wake Daisy. I think I remember stashing the key in the pocket of my dress.

  Minutes later, I’m following Mel from room to room as she unlocks all the downstairs windows. I feel myself wince each time she throws another one wide open.

  ‘Is this why you don’t want to come out tonight?’ she asks. ‘Because of what happened last night?’

  ‘I suppose. Partly.’

  ‘Oh, Kirstie.’ She stops what she’s doing for a moment to look at me.

  Annoyingly, I feel tears begin to prick at my eyes. What is wrong with me?

  ‘Daisy will be fine.’ Mel says. ‘Dom will be with her, right?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘No buts. No excuses. Dom is her father and he’s perfectly capable of looking after his daughter for a few hours without you. Unlike my pathetic excuse for a husband, who wouldn’t know a nappy from a pillowcase.’

  I manage a small smile at this. She’s right – Chris is a self-centred idiot who’s more concerned with the cut of his suit than the wellbeing of his family. I’m lucky to have Dominic.

  ‘I’m actually not taking no for an answer,’ she continues. ‘You haven’t been out for months. We planned this ages ago, Kirst. The taxi will be at my house at seven and you will be there… Look, I’ve got to pick James and Katie up from nursery now, but I’ll see you later, yes?’ She arches an eyebrow.

  I don’t reply. Don’t catch her eye.

  ‘Yes?’ she repeats.

  I don’t know what to say. She’ll only carry on giving me a hard time if I refuse. ‘Okay,’ I reply, wondering if I can get away with cancelling later, at the last minute.

  ‘Good girl. Wear something saucy. It’ll make you feel better.’

  ‘How long have you known me, Mel? I don’t do “saucy”.’

  ‘Well, you should.’ She glares at me, laughs and heads back out into the hall. ‘And open some of the upstairs windows too!’ she calls out before leaving, pulling the front door behind her with a bang that reverberates throughout the house.

  I cringe and hold my breath, listening. Sure enough, a couple of seconds later, a short cry comes through the baby monitor followed by a sustained wail that I can’t ignore.

  ‘Thanks, Mel,’ I mutter before heading back upstairs.

  Halfway up, I pause. I can’t go up there with all these windows and doors still open downstairs. I turn back and make my way into the kitchen. Daisy’s cries are tugging at my heart, but the need to secure my house is stronger. There are child abductors out there. They could come back at any time. I begin with the back doors – pulling them closed with a satisfying thunk. Next I close and lock all the downstairs windows, hoping Mel doesn’t glance over from her house and see what I’ve done.

  Once I’m satisfied the rooms are all secure, I realise that my hands are shaking, my breathing erratic, ragged and shallow. Daisy’s cries have gone from demanding come-and-get-me-mummy cries to piercing, furious screams. How could I have left her to cry for so long? I think there might be something wrong with me. Or maybe I’m just tired. Whatever it is, I don’t feel like myself. Not at all.

  * * *

  At 5.30 p.m. I’m crouched on the kitchen floor loading dirty washing into the machine when my phone pings. I close the machine door, straighten up and snatch my phone off the kitchen table. It’s a text from Mel:

  Hey gorgeous. Hope you’re getting ready. Don’t even think about sending me a cancellation text.

  I sigh. How did she know? I should just tell her straight that I’m not going. But I can’t bring myself to face her judgement. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it will do me good to get out of the house. To shake away the unease that has gripped my body all day. Before having Daisy, I loved to go out with my friends, I was almost as outgoing as Mel. But after my second miscarriage, I became less sociable, more subdued. I couldn’t bear the thought of people asking me about my pregnancies, or if I was okay, or when Dom and I were going to start trying for a family. All the questions and sympathetic looks were exhausting. So I found it easier to retreat into my cocoon. And somehow, despite my joy at having Daisy, those feelings of insecurity have remained.

  Mel’s text message pulses accusingly on my phone screen. I chew my bottom lip. If I stay home tonight, I’ll only sit here worrying. Maybe a night out will take my mind off things. Taking a breath, I text her three emojis: a smiley face, a wine glass and a girl dancing.

  I spend the next forty-five minutes bathing and feeding Daisy so she’ll be ready for bed when Dominic gets home from work. As I hold her, staring out the bedroom window, I realise Dominic is late. With a rush of hope, I wonder if he might have had to stay on at the office. That would solve my problems. I could then apologise to Mel and say it was out of my control. She wouldn’t be able to argue with that.

  Almost as soon as I have that thought, my heart drops as I see Dom’s Audi turn into the cul-de-sac. I watch him park in the driveway and walk up the path. Hear the click of his key in the door. Usually I’m excited to see him. Now, I feel the dark swell of anxiety in my chest.

  ‘Hey, Kirst, it’s me!’

  ‘Hi!’ I call from upstairs, injecting fake happiness into my voice.

  I hear his footfalls on the stairs, and then he comes into the bedroom, loosening his tie as he walks towards us. ‘Hey, I missed you both today.’

  ‘Missed you too.’ We kiss and he takes Daisy from my arms.

  ‘It’s boiling in here. Don’t tell me you’ve had the windows closed all day.’

  ‘Course not.’ I stiffen as he sets about opening the windows with his free hand. ‘You’ll lock them all up again before going to bed, won’t you?’ I ask. ‘Those people could come back at any time. They could try to break in. And you’ll keep Daisy with you all—’

  ‘Relax. I will guard her with my life. She’s my daughter too, Kirst.’
br />   ‘Sorry, I know. It’s just… I worry.’

  ‘Noooo. Really?’

  I give him a light shove.

  ‘Sorry I’m a bit late tonight. Roads were stupidly busy for some reason.’ Dominic lifts Daisy up into the air, then swoops her back down before blowing raspberries onto her stomach. She shrieks with laughter.

  ‘You might not want to swing her up and down like that,’ I warn. ‘I’ve just fed her. She’ll throw up all over you if you’re not careful.’

  ‘We don’t mind,’ Dom says in a daft voice. ‘We just want Mummy to ignore us and get ready for her big night out, don’t we, Daisy? Yes we do.’ He blows another raspberry on her tummy and I can’t help laughing this time.

  Things already seem better now Dominic’s home. That hollow, jittery feeling is receding. Maybe I’ll even enjoy tonight.

  Seven

  The little Wimborne restaurant is packed for a Thursday night, ringing with the clink of glasses and the scrape of silverware, the chatter and laughter of people enjoying themselves. Our glamorous group of women takes up one long table down the side. I didn’t realise there would be so many of us here tonight. We all went to the same school, the majority of us in the same year. It’s lovely to see everyone again, to be my old self. I feel like I’ve been out of the loop for ages, even though it’s only been six months since I had Daisy.

  My heart sinks as someone else arrives late, her sleek, auburn bob swinging as she sits opposite me and lays her purse by her feet. She turns to talk to Pia, who’s sitting on her left.

  I elbow Mel. ‘You didn’t tell me Tamsin Price would be coming,’ I hiss.

  ‘That’s because I knew you wouldn’t come if I said anything.’

  ‘Too bloody right. Anyway, I thought she was living in Surrey now. Has she come back just for tonight?’

  ‘No,’ Mel says sheepishly. ‘She moved back to Wimborne this year.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me she was back?’ She’s the last person I expected to see here tonight. Back when we were in our late teens, Tamsin tried to steal Dominic away from me. They had a drunken one night stand, after which she pretended to be pregnant. It took Dom over six months to win me back, but now the sight of Tamsin Price has brought all those ancient feelings rushing back.

  ‘Just ignore her,’ Mel says under her breath.

  ‘That’s a bit hard when she’s sitting right opposite me.’

  Mel screws up her face in sympathy. ‘I know. Of all the places she could sit, that’s pretty bad luck.’

  ‘Swap places with me?’

  ‘I would, Kirst, but Sooz wants to talk to me about something important. I think she’s having marriage problems. I said we’d have a chat about it tonight, seeing as how I’m highly experienced in the area of tosser ex-husbands.’ She grins.

  I sigh. ‘Okay. Never mind.’ At that moment I catch Tamsin’s eye and she gives me a disdainful nod. I give her a tight-lipped smile, and then we proceed to ignore each other.

  As it turns out, most of the evening is spent reminiscing with everyone about funny incidents and awful teachers. Everyone – apart from Tamsin of course – teases me about the fact I’m now a teacher in our old school. Mel was right to make me come. I’m having a good time, even though my mind keeps straying to how Dominic and Daisy are getting on at home, trying not to check my texts every five seconds for possible news that the child abductors have returned. I need to stop worrying, and concentrate more on enjoying myself.

  Another friend, Penny, sits on my left. She’s also a new mum, like me. We weren’t that close at school, but I always liked her. After a good twenty minutes chatting about motherhood, Penny leans back in her chair.

  ‘We’re so pathetic, Kirstie,’ she says, twirling a dark strand of hair around her finger. ‘All we’ve done all evening is talk about missing our babies. When did we get so boring?’ Penny is a party planner, but she admits it’s more of a hobby than anything else. Her husband is an investment banker and they’re absolutely loaded, with a huge country pile, a fleet of 4x4s and staff, including a nanny.

  ‘We’re first-time mums,’ I laugh. ‘We’re allowed to be boring and brag about our beautiful babies.’

  ‘You’re right.’ She raises her glass. ‘To our beautiful babies.’ She clinks her glass violently against mine. ‘Oops, sorry,’ she giggles. ‘Bit pissed. Why are you still sober, anyway?’

  ‘Breast feeding,’ I reply, sipping my mineral water.

  ‘Ooh, you’re good. I couldn’t do it. Too painful and far too restricting.’

  ‘I was lucky Daisy took to it so well. If she hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have carried on. I hear it can be excruciating.’

  ‘Yep, like little needles.’

  ‘Ouch!’

  We look at each other and start laughing.

  ‘Must go to the loo,’ she says. ‘Back in a mo.’

  I turn to talk to Mel, but she’s deep in conversation with Sooz, who’s dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. I can’t interrupt what appears to be a heavy conversation.

  Opposite, it looks like Tamsin is also between conversations. We catch one another’s eye. She raises her chin and slides her gaze away, blatantly ignoring me. Should I pull out my phone and pretend to reply to imaginary texts? No. I’ve had enough of this. I don’t know why she’s got a problem with me. After what she did, I should be the one to hate her. I lean forward a little and address Tamsin directly, trying to be friendly. ‘You’ve got children now, haven’t you?’

  She raises her eyes in surprise. I wonder if she’ll blank me.

  ‘Yeah, a boy and a girl,’ she says, staring down at her French-manicured nails, her rose-gold watch glinting under the lights.

  ‘How old are they?’

  ‘Eli is eight and McKenna is six.’ Her tone is bored, disinterested.

  ‘I’ve got a six month old – Daisy.’

  She raises her eyebrows again. This time in acknowledgement.

  ‘Yeah,’ I struggle on, wondering why I’m even bothering. ‘I’m on maternity leave at the moment, but I’m kind of dreading going back to work after half term. It’ll be so hard to leave her.’

  ‘I can’t imagine leaving my kids while I go out to work,’ Tamsin says. ‘Having someone else raise them. I wouldn’t like that at all.’

  I know she’s just baiting me, but her words sting.

  ‘Some of us don’t have a choice,’ I reply.

  She shrugs.

  ‘Look, Tamsin,’ I say, leaning forward slightly. ‘Why don’t we forget about everything that’s gone on in the past? It was all a long time ago. It’s stupid to fall out over a boy.’ I make a lame joke to try to ease the tension.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she says icily. ‘It might have been in the past, Kirstie, but I’m not about to forget it all and suddenly be your best friend.’

  I shake my head, unable to believe she can be so hostile towards me. Maybe she really did love Dom. Maybe she still does. ‘I wasn’t suggesting we be best friends,’ I reply. ‘I just thought we could move on, be civil, you know?’

  ‘You might have Dom now,’ she says with a sneer, ‘but it doesn’t mean you can have everything you want. And these are my friends too.’

  ‘Fine.’ I reach into my purse and pull out my phone – fake replying to fake texts will be an easy way to end this conversation. I’m done trying to mend fences with her. I must have been mad to even try. Tamsin was the one in the wrong, but it seems she doesn’t care. She never apologised about any of it but tonight I had the rash thought that it might be better for us to be polite to one another. Obviously, I was wrong. Now I’m faced with the discomfort of evil looks from Queen Bitchface for the rest of the evening.

  Her earlier words still bug me. I wish I could afford to stay home and be with my daughter all day, but it’s out of the question. We need my wage. Anyway, I love my job and I’m sure I’ll get used to being a working mum – plenty of people do.

  On the other side of me, Mel signals to the waiter to
bring another bottle of wine. I push away the niggle that money is tight and try not to stress about how expensive the bill is going to be. But it’s hard not to resent the fact that my friends always split the bill evenly, even when some of us aren’t drinking.

  The evening rolls past pleasantly enough, and at 10.30 p.m. the waiter brings the bill.

  Mel taps me on the shoulder. ‘Having a good time?’

  ‘Yeah, good. You?’

  She lays her head on my shoulder and I laugh at her drunken state. ‘You’re my best friend ever,’ she says. ‘I hope you know that.’

  ‘You too,’ I reply.

  She waggles her finger at me. ‘Best friend. Right here.’ She gets to her feet and dings her glass with a spoon. Pointing down at my head with spoon, she proclaims to the table and the few other diners who are left in the restaurant, ‘I want you all to know that I love you all, but Kirstie is my best friend in the whole world.’

  Everyone says, ‘aaah’ and laughs.

  Mel sits down heavily on her chair again and whispers in my ear. ‘Kirst, I just realised I’ve left my purse at home. Can you pay for my share and I’ll give it back to you tomorrow? Thanks, hon.’

  My smile vanishes and I grit my teeth. ‘Sure, I’ll put it on my card.’

  ‘Lifesaver.’

  ‘You will pay me back though, Mel? It’s just, Dom and I are a bit strapped at the moment.’

  ‘Relax. Pay you back tomorrow. It’s not a problem.’

  Easy for you to say. I always seem to be lending Mel money, which she keeps forgetting to pay back. I love her to bits but she’s terrible with finances. She’s usually spent the maintenance check from her ex before she gets it. Her problem is she’s a hopeless shopaholic. But I don’t want to get all judgemental. I don’t want this to tarnish our friendship.

  ‘Hate to ask again,’ she says, ‘but could I borrow a teensy bit more for the taxi home?’