Another Woman's Child - Kerry Fisher Page 0,68

girls staggered out on heels that my knackered feet could only dream about, no coats, screaming with laughter. They ignored me completely as though I was the garden gnome holding a wheelbarrow of marigolds.

I bellowed after them: ‘You’re welcome! Come again!’

They peered round, their faces screwed up in ‘She talking to us?’ puzzlement.

Before I tackled the house, I breathed in a huge gulp of the freezing cold air. For some reason it made me think of Ginny and I sitting in an outdoor hot tub when we’d gone skiing with Patrick and Cory, four or five years before that New Year’s Eve. We’d kept ducking under the hot water, then sticking our heads up into the icy air, steam coming off our faces. I’d prided myself on living the life I was destined for, the one with adventures and experiences, making memories that would cheer me up when I was – as Ginny would say – sitting in the nursing home dribbling my soup.

A wave of missing her threatened to dull the heat of my anger. Her zest for life, her attitude of ‘Come on! You might not ever get the chance to sit in a hot tub at midnight in the snow again!’ had enriched my existence beyond measure. And now that same appetite for experimental sex had damaged my life beyond measure as well.

I rode another wave of outrage and burst through my front door. I flicked on all the lights, taking a grim satisfaction in seeing hands withdrawn from places they shouldn’t be, the shape of ‘What the actual…?’ forming on teenage mouths that seconds before had been glued onto far more pleasurable pursuits.

I clapped loudly. ‘Party is over. Everyone out.’ I switched off the music that was reverberating right up into my stomach, making me feel sick.

That sudden death of noise brought a few teenagers scuttling to the top of the stairs like astronauts deprived of oxygen.

‘Downstairs. Now. Off you go.’

Helaina slunk past, adjusting her bra strap. So much for Andrea thinking Helaina was a shining example of model behavior.

‘Where’s Phoebe?’ I asked.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

That little peek behind her gave it away. I ran upstairs and threw open the door to her bedroom, slamming the lights on. The whole room stank of teenage hormones and trainers. Two bodies were in mid-grope on the bed but not Phoebe.

‘Get downstairs. Leave now!’ My woman-way-beyond-the-edge hiss made them spring up, gathering shoes and random items of clothing like something out of a Carry On comedy. Hilarious really if I could ever have imagined finding anything funny again.

I ran into my bedroom. There was Phoebe, topless, with a boy on top of her, shirtless but still with his trousers on. My bar for rejoicing was sinking ever lower.

‘Mum!’ She still managed to sound defiant as though I had no right to enter my own room.

I could barely get the words out. ‘Get dressed. And you, my friend, get out.’ I shoved his shirt at him. It was definitely an ‘every man for himself’ moment.

He didn’t speak, just grabbed his clothes and scarpered.

Phoebe had leapt up, covering herself with whatever little scrap of material hadn’t been covering anything in the first place. ‘Don’t start. I literally can’t be bothered to listen to it. Yes, I know I shouldn’t have had a party. Yes, I know I shouldn’t be in your room. Yes, I know I should have more self-respect…’

For the first time ever, I was tempted to slap her. I interlinked my fingers in front of me. ‘Shut up, you little madam! I am sick to death of you doing whatever you like and thinking that you can get away with it. Put your clothes on and go to your room. Stay away from me.’

‘For fuck’s sake, you’re mental. Who the hell wants to be near you anyway?’ She stumbled out, clutching her bra and slamming the door behind her with such force, I heard the glass shelf on the landing rattle.

Before I could take in the enormity of the gulf between me nuzzling Phoebe to my breast moments after she was born and promising to protect her from harm and the deranged woman I was now, yelling as though I wouldn’t care if I never saw her again, I noticed a little fold of cardboard on my bedside table and the tiniest smattering of white powder next to it. Instinctively, I dabbed my finger in it and then stopped myself. What did I think it was? Lily-of-the-valley talcum

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