The Mistress - Jill Childs Page 0,61

couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. The weight of expectation was suffocating.

Behind me, someone said, ‘Well, go on!’

Did I even have a choice?

I leaned forward and murmured, ‘I don’t know what to say. Why now?’

He plucked the ring out of the box, took my hand and forced it onto my finger. Someone whistled. Someone cheered. Chairs were scraped back, arms pushed into the sleeves of coats.

The tension dissipated as quickly as it had grown. That was settled then. Time for a drink. Time to go home.

Ralph, holding me now, laughed. ‘Why now?’ He drew me closer and whispered into my ear. ‘Why not? What are we waiting for? Come on, Miss Librarian, just for once, do something crazy.’

Reader, I married him.

And he was right. It was the craziest thing I’ve ever done.

Forty-One

‘Stop it!’

Anna was slighter than Clara and had to fight hard to tug her jacket free of Clara’s fist. Anna set off at a run, with Clara in pursuit.

I charged after them both, the rucksack bouncing on my back.

‘Anna! Wait!’

I caught up with them on the corner, just as we turned left into a smaller, narrower street.

‘Calm down, both of you.’ I turned on Anna, scolding. Her face was sullen with fury. ‘What’s the matter with you? Don’t run off down a main road. It’s dangerous.’

She shot Clara a look of pure hatred and stomped off, a few paces ahead. Clara allowed me to grab her by the hand and we followed.

‘So,’ I asked Clara, trying to restore order. ‘How was school?’

‘Good.’

‘What did you get up to?’

‘Nothing.’

‘What did you have for lunch?’

‘Can’t remember.’

Anna, scuffing her shoes against a wall, waited for us to reach her.

‘Smell this!’ She opened her fist to show Clara the remains of a rotting flower. ‘Dare you.’

‘Eugh! That’s disgusting.’

‘Come on, girls. Let’s go. Nearly home.’

It wasn’t far but, on bad days, this walk from the school gates to our front door was the most stressful part of my day. They both came out of school tired and manic and their friendship flashed back and forth between hatred and love.

Other children looked easier. I caught glimpses of girls from their class walking home sedately, one hand dutifully holding their mother’s, the other swinging their bookbag. Only these two seemed to act like the crazy gang. I hated that madness, especially in Anna. It reminded me too much of Ralph.

By the time we arrived home, they were fast friends again. They tumbled into the hall, pushing and shoving, kicking off shoes and shedding their jackets like second skins.

‘Any homework?’

No answer. They charged into the kitchen. ‘Can we have a snack?’

‘You’ve got spellings tonight, haven’t you? I’ll test you on them.’

I chopped up apples and a banana and warmed some milk in the microwave, then, while they were eating, set out slips of paper and pencils.

‘We’ll practise spellings first, okay? Come on, it won’t take long. Then you can play while I get tea ready.’

Anna groaned. ‘Mum-my!’

Clara, more subdued, muttered, ‘Smelly spellings.’

That set them both giggling. Anna started using her straw to blow bubbles in her milk and Clara copied her and by the time we started the spelling test, the plastic tablecloth was splattered and I was stern again.

Afterwards, I sent them off to play in the sitting room, then boiled the kettle and started cooking pasta and heating up some Bolognese sauce.

They left the connecting door ajar and their voices drifted through to the kitchen. They were playing vets with Anna’s old doctor’s set, taking it in turns to be the vet or the worried owner, coming along with ailing soft toys. I half-listened as they started to disagree about the rules of the game, their voices rising, then found a compromise and quietened again.

Once the girls had eaten, I put children’s television on for them and they sprawled on their stomachs on the carpet, legs kicked up behind, heels waving in the air, chins resting on their hands.

When the doorbell rang, Clara looked round at me and declared, ‘Mummy!’

Then her eyes flicked back to the screen.

Bea looked flustered. She was late. She never quite believed me when I said it didn’t matter. I knew how lucky I was to be a stay-at-home parent, rather than juggling a full-time job and childcare. I was happy to cut her a bit of slack. Heaven knows, she’d more than paid me back.

I opened the door wide. ‘Come on in! Don’t look so worried! Cup of tea?’

She kissed me on the cheek with cold, dry lips. She smelled of the