The Nesting - C. J. Cooke Page 0,32

I thought the day would be canceled, as both girls cried bitterly for me, which I found touching until Tom looked like he was about to give in and cancel his plans. I whispered in Gaia’s ear that I’d let her do whatever she wanted the next day. Little schemer that she is, she bargained with me.

“Screen time,” she hissed at me. “Two hours of Netflix.”

I nodded. “Deal.”

Gaia gave a small, demonic smile. Then, in a loud voice, an about-face: “Come on, Coco. We love spending the day with Daddy, don’t we? It’s going to be so much fun.”

Tom looked happily surprised. Coco seemed to follow Gaia’s lead, for she fell silent and allowed Tom to strap her into the baby carrier that he hoisted onto his back. I almost asked him where he was headed, given that the area outside the house was a construction site, but I held back in case he decided to quit his plans altogether.

When the door finally closed I stood for a moment, bathing in the silence. No squealing. No stomping of feet or sound of something smashing to the ground in a million pieces. Bliss.

I headed back to my room, climbed back into bed, and flipped open my laptop.

“Sophie?”

I looked up to find Maren standing in the doorway to my room.

“Might I have a quick word?”

My heart sank. This didn’t sound good at all.

“Yes, of course.”

She came in and shut the door, then clasped her hands and smiled.

“I thought we might have a review of your tenure,” she said. Tenure? I couldn’t even pretend to understand what this meant. “How are you finding the job?”

“Fine,” I said with an innocent, so-glad-you-asked smile. I hoped that this would be enough to make her leave.

“Fine?” she said, cocking her head. She kept darting her eyes around the room in a way that made me wonder if she suspected I had someone else in here with me. An errant builder hiding under my bed, perhaps. “How is Gaia’s education going? Hmm? Because I noticed you hadn’t filled in the logbook.”

“Logbook?”

This was the first I’d heard of a logbook. I felt my cheeks burn and my voice was thinned by guilt. Her eyes flicked across the room, and I suddenly interpreted the whole scenario—the question about the logbook was a trap. She already knew I was lying about who I was. And I surprised myself, because despite how completely and utterly wrung out I was, I didn’t want to leave. I loved those girls, and I loved being part of a family, albeit a grief-stricken, distracted one. I felt needed, or necessary. And in any case, I’d be homeless again if they kicked me out.

“Maybe I’m using the wrong term,” Maren said, suddenly doubting herself. “It’s the . . . uh . . . learning folder. Learning journey booklet.”

“OK,” I said slowly, flooded with relief. She really was asking about the logbook. I played along with her confusion, trying to mask my confusion at the existence of some sort of logbook by pretending I was wrong-footed by its correct translation.

Maren flapped her hands, flustered by not being able to access the correct English term. “Perhaps this is why you didn’t fill it in?” she said. “You mistook it for something else. Only I had expected to find it full of photographs of Gaia’s progress. Her writing samples, reading log, and so on.”

“Could you show me the logbook?” I asked gently. She nodded and turned on her heel toward the playroom. I followed, my heart leaping about in terror like a caffeinated frog, and watched as she rooted in a drawer for the logbook. When a few minutes passed with no sign of the book, I said: “Isn’t it there?”

She looked flustered now, her sleeves rolled up and her lips pursed. “Perhaps it is in the office,” she said. “I will check.”

“Was there anything else?” I said sweetly.

She smoothed a strand of blonde hair back into place. “Yes, there was, as it happens,” she said. “I wanted to ask about your cooking. You recall I expressly stated that Tom wishes the girls to be raised vegan.”

“I’ve been making vegan meals.”

I had been meticulous about checking out the food stores. There wasn’t exactly a Tesco around the corner, and Maren had mentioned she went shopping once a month, but happily the huge chest freezer was well stocked with frozen vegetables, bread, cakes, yogurts, and vegan mince, chicken, and even bacon (soya-based stuff that tasted pretty decent). In the larder

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