the plaques and the stones with the names and dates. To get to his, you have to walk past the baby bit and I just want to close my eyes but I look at Daisy instead. She's blowing bubbles and smiling and waving a hand in front of her face. She’s so innocent and happy and oblivious to the pain that inevitably comes.
Her hair’s really growing. Rose is coming over this afternoon to show me how to look after it but it should be Eleanor doing this.
Bloody Eleanor.
Why won’t she grow up and take charge of her life?
Yes, she’s on tablets now. Yes, she’s getting on better with Noel.
But what about Daisy?
I'm really crying now.
I was stupid to come, I’ve gone and upset myself. I’m just going to quickly put these flowers on his grave and then turn around and go home and I’m going to have my Walnut Whip on the walk back…
Then I see something I shouldn't.
Something private.
Something she wouldn't want me to see.
For the first time I don't want to kill her.
Lucy must have put on two stone (I’m quite good at gauging these things now since I joined my slimming club) and she's certainly not the natural blonde that she would have us believe that she is, because she's got inches of roots.
Maybe she’s just been riding, because she’s wearing boots and she’s filthy.
Her face is brick red and she's all bloated and she's crying, though not like I was crying just before. She's crying in a way I haven't for a long time. She’s crying like I did in those dark months after he left, when the kids were all out, when I had the place to myself…
Remember at the hospital, when I saw Charlotte?
Remember how I wanted to wrap my arms around her and take away the pain?
How I felt as if she were mine, that she was a part of me?
That's how I feel this moment. I want to take Lucy home and look after her. I want to tell her that it gets better, that she shall get through this.
I know her pain.
I recognise it.
I’ve felt it.
But I don't understand this surge of compassion.
She stole my husband I remind myself, as I turn the pushchair around. She caused my babies so much pain. I look down at Daisy who is starting to cry and I remember that that bitch screwed her father as well; she fucked with my daughter’s marriage too.
Daisy’s really crying as we go down the hill. It’s rare for Daisy – she’s such a happy natured baby.
She's crying though and carrying on so much that I don't even stop and get my Walnut Whip.
I get home and sort out Daisy and then I put the flowers in a vase to brighten up the living room but they don’t make me feel any better. It’s there, it’s still there rising up in my chest - the loathing and anger is still there. I want to pour cool water, I want to be a better person, to be forgiving and calm and to care.
Except, I don’t want to care about Lucy.
I pick up the flowers and I take them outside and I bin them.
Fuck you, Lucy!
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
Lucy
I drop Charlotte off at Simone’s for a sleepover and then Jess rings to see if I’m okay and if she and Luke can come over.
I tell her I just want to be alone.
I do.
I head to the supermarket and then I change my mind and head for home.
I think of the cupboards and freezer all groaning.
It’s all waiting for me there too.
I know that I’m going to do it, so I turn around and go back to the supermarket.
I might as well get what I want.
Tomorrow.
I’ll start properly tomorrow.
I mean it.
Just once, I decide.
I haven’t done it in ages and this really is the last time.
Charlotte’s safely out of the way.
I make up a long convoluted story in the chemist’s.
‘My husband is having an IVP tomorrow and I can’t find the tablet, the laxative, that he was told to take.’
What are you doing Lucy? Your husband is dead. Why are you making up a story?
Why don’t I just bung them in my basket?
Why do I have to make things so complicated?
I just do.
My hand closes in relief around the lovely packet.
Then it’s in to the supermarket. I get a trolley and finally I’m shopping for me.