The Perfect House Page 5

  ‘Mary Berry?’

  He pointed the bottle at her in affirmation. ‘She said to knock if there’s anything we need. She also said she was a health visitor at the village surgery till she retired. I liked her.’ He took a swig of beer. ‘Anyway, keys are in the basket. Saves us changing the locks till we replace the doors.’

  With the first few noodley mouthfuls, her appetite perked up. After six weeks of lukewarm hospital slop, it tasted good.

  ‘Are you happy with the nursery?’ he said.

  ‘Love it!’ She took a sip of elderflower, letting the bubbles dance across her tongue.

  ‘Good, good,’ he said, absently.

  A drop of water splashed on the pots and pans piled in the sink. Tom stabbed at a cube of chicken then cleared his throat.

  ‘Els, I’ve got something to tell you. It’s about work. You know we have major staffing issues?’

  She had lived with a police officer long enough to suspect where this was heading. Her heart began to sink.

  ‘Had staffing issues,’ she corrected. ‘You’ve got a new DC now.’

  ‘Yes, Tanya. But things have blown up on the job and she doesn’t have the experience, so the boss rang me …’ He tailed off with a shrug. ‘Sorry.’

  Suspicions confirmed, Ellie’s heart plummeted to the worn lino. ‘I get it. They’ve cancelled your leave.’

  ‘Not cancelled.’ His chin rasped as he rubbed his two-day stubble. ‘Postponed. They’ve given me so much time off already, I don’t think I can say no. Plus Tanya really needs the support.’

  ‘We need the support. Me and your daughter.’

  He spread his arms in a what’s a man to do? gesture. ‘I know, love, but I’ll be here most of the time and what we’re on to now is massive. And we are this close’ – he held his thumb and finger until they almost touched – ‘to taking some truly evil bastards out of circulation in the next few weeks. People fight to be posted to this unit.’

  ‘Well, let one of them do it, then. You promised you’d have the first week at home.’

  ‘The job’s at a crucial stage right now. There’s a raid coming up. You know I can’t tell you details, but if all goes to plan, it’ll make the news.’ He put his warm hand over hers and clasped her knuckles. ‘And apart from that, I’ve used all my paid leave.’

  She withdrew her hand. ‘Oh, so this is about money.’

  The crease between Tom’s eyebrows deepened. ‘Come on. You know it’s not.’

  She interlocked her fingers and looked away. The entire length of the worktop was littered with vegetable scraps and cutlery resting in sticky puddles. Where Tom cooked, chaos followed. With an exaggerated sigh, Ellie collected their empty bowls and stacked them by the sink.

  She heard chair legs scrape and felt his arms around her. He rested his chin on the top of her head and for a moment the kitchen light haloed their reflections, merging their washed-out faces with the darkness outside.

  ‘Look, if you really want me to stay home, I’ll call the boss and explain.’

  She was about to say, yes, you do that, but she caught herself. They needed the money, simple as.

  She broke away. ‘No, don’t. It’ll be fine.’

  ‘OK. Well, if you’re sure, I’ll stick this in the fridge,’ he said, poking at the leftovers in the pan with a spatula. ‘There’s enough for your lunch and I’ll take the rest to microwave at work.’

  The penny dropped.

  ‘You’re going in tomorrow?’

  ‘I told you the other day. I’m on court duty for a job from last year.’ Water gushed in the sink and bubbles frothed like meringue, spilling over onto the worktop.

  She wrenched the tap off. This wasn’t the homecoming she’d imagined. ‘We haven’t been home for twenty-four hours yet.’

  ‘Why don’t I ask Dad to come over if you’re worried about being on your own?’

  ‘I don’t want Howard,’ she said, blinking back tears. ‘I want you.’

  ‘Love,’ he said, reaching towards her, but she stiffened, her arms at her sides.

  ‘Don’t. Just don’t.’

  Bathing Trinity took forever. When they’d been supervised by the nurses, the whole process had seemed so easy, fun even. But at home, instead of singing and games, there were debates over how warm was ‘warm’; the best way to fill the small plastic tub and the safest hold for a squirming, slippery creature hellbent on sliding under the water. Even the towelling technique merited discussion.

  By the time Trinity slipped into clean, milky oblivion at the side of the bed, backache and tiredness had set Ellie’s bones in concrete. Too exhausted to shower away the day’s grime, she collapsed into bed hardly noticing when Tom climbed in beside her.

  But it seemed as though she had barely shut her eyes before Trinity’s plaintive cries prised them open again. The only light in the bedroom was the red glow from the bedside clock: 11.37. Tom, unperturbed, snored faintly and turned onto his side.

  Stumbling out of bed, Ellie grabbed her dressing gown, lifted Trinity from the Moses basket, carried her to the nursing chair and the pattern for the first night was set. Cry, feed, sleep, repeat.

  By 4.37, the line between reality and dreams had blurred. There didn’t seem much point returning to their bedroom, so she put Trinity in the cot and curled up in the nursery chair alongside with her dressing gown draped over her like a quilt.

  She woke to gentle singing.

  Mary, Mary, quite contrary,

  How does your garden grow?

  Long dark hair tumbled over the shoulders of the figure next to the window. Her fingernails were painted black. Ellie blearily watched her dig her thumb over and over into textured wallpaper that wasn’t there.

  Just a dream. Just a dream. A dream.

  With silver bells and cockle shells.

  Her eyelids grew heavy.

  And pretty maids all in a row.

  9. Then

  ‘Welcome to Henderson Hall!’ the laminated sign read. ‘Flat and room numbers displayed below. Collect keys from desk. Please read the rules.’

  Eighteen-year-old Ellie Wight shrank against the wall, overwhelmed by the herd of laughing, shouting, chatting strangers. A girl with long dark hair styled into a quiff fiercely hugged an equally tall woman, knocking her sunglasses from the top of her head. Next to her, a white dog batted its tail against the legs of a handsome man.

  ‘Calm down, Smudge,’ the man said, patting the dog’s head.

  An image of her own mum getting home to darkness and silence flashed through Ellie’s mind. She forced the picture away and mustered a nervous smile.

  ‘Room six, please.’

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Eleanor Wight.’

  The woman rifled through a plastic crate and selected an envelope. ‘Here you are. Keys and rules. Shared kitchen and lounge for eight. You’ve got your own shower and loo. Big key is the external door.’ She jerked her thumb at the entrance. ‘And the little one is your room. Enjoy.’

  After they’d carted the last box from the car to the tiny bedroom, her mum hugged her tight.

  ‘I’d better go now to beat the traffic,’ she said. ‘Take care, love.’ She sniffed a couple of times and her wedding ring dug painfully into Ellie’s scalp. For someone so strong, she felt unbearably fragile.

  ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t get upset.’ She pulled away, wiping tears from the side of her nose. ‘But Dad would have been so proud of you.’

  ‘I love you, Mum.’

  ‘I love you too.’ With one final squeeze, she was gone.

  Ellie perched on the unfamiliar bed, surrounded by boxes, and slid the keys on the key ring her mum had given her for her eighteenth. They clinked against the initial E and the silver heart that contained a photo of her dad. She stroked it absent-mindedly with her thumb and tried not to freak out.

  A minute or so later, there was a knock, followed by a cheerful ‘Hello?’

  Ellie quickly wiped her eyes and opened the door.

/>   The voice belonged to the girl with the glamorous parents. Tall and lean, she wore a leather biker jacket over a jumper shot through with glittery threads; skinny jeans tucked into clumpy-soled boots. She held her hand out to shake. Her fingernails were varnished black, her skin streaked with paint or pen.

  ‘Hi, neighbour,’ she said with a smile Ellie couldn’t help but return. ‘I’m Mia.’

  10. Now

  ‘Morning.’ The man in the porch presented a laminated ID. ‘Connection services.’

  Ellie stared at the card until the man’s arm drooped along with his smile. Conscious of the crusty cardigan, bedhead tangles and general disgustingness caused by three nights of bad dreams and round-the-clock feeds, Ellie felt herself go red.

  The man nodded at the top sheet on his clipboard. ‘Six Moss Lane, is it? I’m here to connect your phone and broadband?’

  Right. Of course. She remembered now. After assuming baby brain was a myth to patronise new mothers, discovering the truth had been a shock. Tom had reminded her last night and before he left for work. It had been on the calendar since they’d come home from the hospital. And yet the arrival of a man in a boiler suit on her doorstep still took her by surprise.

  She didn’t want a strange man here. She didn’t want anyone here.

  But she did want superfast broadband.

  ‘Sorry. Yes. Come in.’ She smiled, remembering a second too late that she hadn’t brushed her teeth. Oh no. Did he actually wince? ‘I’ve just had a baby,’ she added, apologetically.

  She offered him a cup of tea, realising too late it was the last of the milk. And, apparently, Tom had unpacked the kitchen stuff blindfolded meaning she had to ferret through every drawer to find a clean teaspoon. Also, he’d rushed off leaving his cereal bowl pebble-dashed with rock-hard granola. And at some point he must have traipsed mud across the lino and just left it.

  Black coffee and the whine of the engineer’s drill battered further at her tired mood. With every mopping and scrubbing movement, a sour yoghurt smell wafted from her because she couldn’t get in the sodding shower until the sodding man left. From her head to her feet, everything ached. Even her gums. Her sodding eyelashes.

  And of all mornings, Trinity had picked this one to flex her tantrum muscles. Ellie followed the care instructions suggested by Google, but singing, feeding, walking, rocking, nothing eased the relentless whimpering.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that?’

  The engineer stood in the kitchen doorway. Ellie paused, mid-way through drying a plate and rocking the bouncer with her foot.

  ‘Sorry?’ she said.

  The engineer gestured at the door. ‘When you came in just now, I didn’t hear what you asked me.’

  ‘I didn’t come in. I haven’t moved out of here,’ she said, half-smiling, half-frowning.

  There was an infinitesimal pause.

  ‘Oh.’ His face was a question mark. ‘You didn’t come into the lounge and speak to me just now?’

  ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘Blimey. I could’ve sworn …’ He laughed and shook his head. ‘Oh well. Must be going daft in my old age. Anyway, I’m all done now.’

  She watched him peel a sticker from a sheet and smooth it on the router saying something about codes and giving it a whirl in half an hour. Or was it an hour? All she could think about was standing under hot water with a bar of soap.

  His van bumped away over the potholes, silence settled on the house and she breathed a long sigh of relief. Broadband: good. Not having to act normal: even better.

  She added his empty mug to Tom’s breakfast dishes dripping on the draining board then settled Trinity in the Moses basket on the landing and finally stood under a cascade of warm water and scrubbed and rinsed until she felt almost human again.

  ‘There we go,’ she said, wrapping her hair in a towel. ‘All better.’

  Trinity stared up with awe and reached her hands out, clutching at the air.

  ‘Gorgeous girl,’ Ellie said, blowing a gentle raspberry on the back of her neck. ‘Thank you for not crying.’

  The letterbox rattled and the baby gave a surprised gurgle.

  Holding Trinity to her chest, Ellie gingerly bent her knees to retrieve the scattered letters from the hall floor. The wound had flared up after barging the nursery door on their first night home and while she took the itching as a sign of healing, the little jabs of pain were less welcome. She set aside a clothing catalogue stamped with ‘M. Brennan’ and a couple of letters for Tom that looked suspiciously like bills. And examined the last, a handwritten envelope addressed to them both.

  ‘Another card for your collection?’ she asked Trinity, extracting what her mum would describe as a ‘tasteful’ Beatrix Potter card. She opened it. Read.

  Dear Ellie and Tom,

  We hope you are settling into your new home. We were delighted when Carol told us your wonderful news. Congratulations to both of you on the safe arrival of Trinity. Such an exciting time!

  We often think of you and please do remember that you are always welcome to visit.

  With fondest love,

  Anita and David Goldsworthy

  Anita’s writing matched her completely: elegant and effortless. Ellie pictured her bent over the farmhouse table, considering each word carefully. Strolling to the post box, with a dog trotting by her side. Not Smudge, the friendly old soul Ellie had become fond of when she’d stayed with Mia’s family, but a descendant.

  She gulped down a sob, and she knew if she closed her eyes, Mia would be there. Not the funny, beautiful, talented daughter Anita and David loved, but the other one. The broken one, lying on the tarmac on a rainy night. Time might have a habit of blunting memories, but that image only sharpened over the years.

  Trinity’s eyes rounded with curiosity. Drool dripped down her chin and Ellie wiped it gently with the sleeve of her cardigan.

  ‘Don’t worry, baby,’ she whispered. ‘Mama’s fine.’

  But she wasn’t. The sly voice in her mind had returned, as insistent as ever.

  You don’t deserve to be happy.

  She hadn’t had a panic attack since Willow Lodge, but the signs were unmistakable. Acting on autopilot, she cupped her free hand and exhaled, pushing against the tightness in her lungs. She sat heavily on the sofa, only a second before her legs gave way. Anchor your breath. In. Out.

  The distant shrill of her mobile pierced the haze. ‘One, two, three, four.’ She counted the rings aloud, like a mantra until the blurring at the edges of her vision receded.

  She covered her face and groaned. Through splayed fingers she saw the card on the coffee table. She wanted to bury it at the bottom of the bin.

  Trinity grizzled. Had she been squashing her? Anita must have nuzzled into Mia’s infant neck like this. Did she make the same feverish plea to the universe? Keep her safe and I swear I’ll do anything you ask of me.

  Ellie leaned against the sofa’s upholstered back and screwed her eyes shut. How much courage would it take to congratulate a new life after your own had been ripped apart?

  Anita had signed the card, ‘With fondest love.’

  What would the poor woman write if she knew the truth?

  11. Now

  A subdued thud startled her from the edge of sleep. One of the sofa cushions had slipped to the floor and reaching to retrieve it, she heard a muffled cry. The baby!

  Trinity was wedged between Ellie’s thigh and the arm of the sofa. Oh God! Was her skin dusky? Lips. Too pale? Bluish? Ellie ran her fingers frantically over the baby’s face.

  Then her daughter gurgled, bending then straightening her legs with a forceful kick.

  With one hand supporting the delicate neck and the other under the pudge of Trinity’s bottom, Ellie slumped against the armrest, winded by shock.

  How could she be so careless? During her pregnancy, she had pored over parenting books, magazines, and websites, confident that if there was a GCSE in ‘Theory of Motherhood’, she’d get a Grade 9. And ye
t every article she’d read warned about the dangers of napping with a new-born.

  Babies tumbled to the floor.

  Babies rolled into gaps.

  Babies fell asleep and never woke up.

  Trinity wriggled and whimpered, her nose softly bumping against Ellie’s shoulder.

  ‘Are you hungry, sweetheart?’ She lifted her T-shirt and the baby wobbled as Ellie’s eyes went glassy.

  Simple enough things, really – food, comfort, physical safety – and she couldn’t even meet her daughter’s most fundamental needs. What use was theory if you failed the practical?

  The phone rang again when she was wiping traces of milk from Trinity’s chin.

  ‘Hi,’ Tom said over the noise of traffic. ‘I rang before but you didn’t pick up. How are things?’

  Last night’s curry hung in the air and wet laundry lingered in the machine. The floor was filthy, the nappy bucket overflowing. She needed to brush her hair. And, judging by the taste in her mouth, her teeth.

  And she had almost killed their daughter.

  She put on her brightest voice. ‘All great, thanks.’

  ‘How’s the broadband?’

  ‘Speedy,’ she said, making a note to test it when he got off the phone.

  A female voice called his name and he put his hand over the mouthpiece, muffling their conversation.

  ‘Sorry, Els. Promise I’ll be home soon as I can.’

  After the call ended, she opened Favourites and pressed her mum’s name. Paused. Clicked the phone off. Outside, birds darted in a cloudless sky and the trees, some already leafless, some with curled brown leaves stubbornly clinging on, swayed in the breeze.

  ‘I think you and I need to blow the cobwebs away, baby girl,’ she said. ‘Fancy a walk?’

  12. Now

  With a little help from a YouTube tutorial, Ellie fitted the baby sling snugly against her chest. She double-checked the straps and hip positioning. Safe and secure. Trinity wiggled her legs experimentally, intrigued by this new experience.