The Apartment - K. L. Slater Page 0,2

the truth to her as gently as I can.

For now, I’ve decided it’s better to fluff the detail.

‘You should see what might be your new bedroom at Adder House.’ I muster as much enthusiasm as I can. ‘It’s got a real cherry tree blossoming just outside the window.’

‘Pink confetti!’ Skye claps her hands. ‘When Petra comes over, we can stand underneath it and pretend we’re guests at a wedding!’

Yet again, I push away the realisation that I’ll need to speak to my daughter about changing schools very soon. I’ll need to be explicit about the fact that her best friend, Petra, won’t be at the new one.

All this is a very big deal when you’re just five years old.

But even if Adder House falls through – which still seems a reasonably likely outcome judging by its grandeur on the flyer – we’ll not be able to afford to keep living in this area anyway. I’ll be forced to change Skye’s school sooner or later.

I look around our small but functional kitchen with its clean lines and white fitted units. The duck-egg-blue kettle, tea and coffee canisters, and the toaster tone in perfectly; I took ages choosing that colour scheme. It seems ironic now that that sort of thing ever mattered to me.

It’s true I’ve got Lewis’s insurance money, but that won’t last forever. I had no savings when Lewis died, and I’ve calculated I have about six months before the insurance money will run out, so I know I need to look out for a job well before it gets to that stage.

Despite my sadness in leaving our home, I thank my lucky stars every day I’ve managed to sell it; albeit for 10 per cent less than the asking price, which also removed any available equity.

I sigh and button up Skye’s coat as she hums the theme tune from Frozen.

Two years ago, when he’d just had his promotion at work, Lewis and I were planning to take her to Walt Disney World in Florida. Since his death, I’ve been worrying about where we’ll live and how I’ll meet London rental costs and sky-high bills, especially while I’m not working.

Skye has coped so brilliantly, but I worry that more upheaval could push her over the edge. Sadly, moving house is one major change I simply can’t avoid.

I bundle my daughter out of the house and pull the door closed, just as the black cab appears. I open the door and clamber in, totally unused to the luxury. Usually we have the grand choice of taking the bus or the Underground.

Travelling by cab is typically well out of my budget capacity, but before I left the café this morning, Dr Marsden insisted on sending one to collect and return us home, fully paid for.

‘It’s the least I can do, if you’re genuinely interested in the apartment,’ he’d said, and I’d felt more than grateful.

The driver says he’s been given full instructions on where to go, so I settle back into the seat with Skye to try and relax and enjoy the ride.

She’s a little live wire as usual, pointing out people, shops, and particularly dogs . . . which are currently her favourite animal.

‘Can we get a puppy at our new house, Mummy?’ She looks at me imploringly with her enormous blue eyes.

‘First things first, Skye.’ I smile, beginning to feel a little sleepy as I relax into the smooth ride. ‘It’s not actually our home yet, remember.’

‘I’d love a puppy,’ she says dreamily. ‘I could take him for walks and I’d play with him every day and show him pictures of Daddy . . .’

I close my eyes, listening a little sadly as Skye disappears off into one of her wonderfully detailed imaginary worlds where everything is always perfect and Lewis is as he always used to be, as if all the crappy stuff never happened.

It’s a kind of therapy for both of us, and my heart warms to hear her happy, even if it is make-believe.

The cab turns into Hyde Park Corner, then later on to Palace Gate. It begins to slow. ‘Adder House coming up, love,’ the driver announces.

‘Wow!’ I hear Skye breathe as she sits bolt upright, taking in the white stucco buildings that line Palace Gate like sentries.

The cab stops and I stare open-mouthed at what I can only describe as a mansion, nestled amongst similarly spectacular properties.

Surely, the apartment can’t be located here and yet . . . I realise on closer inspection that this