She looked at me with real warmth in her eyes, as if she trusted me with her life, and for a moment I thought I couldn’t go through with it.
But then I remembered what she’d done and I suddenly felt calm again. What goes around, comes around, and she deserves everything that’s coming her way.
Trust is a funny thing; it takes such a long time to build, yet it’s broken in a second.
She shouldn’t trust me – it will be her undoing.
PART 1
Present Day – Alice
1
‘Sophia, let’s go,’ I call out from the hall. ‘Livvy, where’s your homework?’
She huffs and rushes off to the kitchen. ‘I thought you’d put it in my bag.’
‘I’m your mother, not your slave. And besides, you’re eight now, you should be taking more responsibility.’ I’m exasperated, though in truth, I’d happily pack her school bag for another ten years if it meant I could hang on to my baby who, it seems, has disappeared within a blink of an eye. How had I lost that time?
‘Here,’ she exclaims. ‘Have you got my swimming cap?’
‘Olivia! Oh, for God’s sake, is it swimming today?’
She sticks one hip out to the side and rests her hand on the other, with all the sassiness of her fifteen-year-old sister. ‘Er, yeah, it’s Wednesday.’
‘Run upstairs quickly, look in your top drawer. I’ll count to five and you need to be back down here. Sophia, we’re going.’ I’m shouting by the end of the sentence.
What my elder daughter does up there I don’t know. Every day it seems to take her five minutes longer to straighten her hair, scribe the black kohl under her eyes, inflate her lips with self-plumping lip-gloss or whatever else it is she uses. She looks undeniably gorgeous when she does eventually appear, but is it all really necessary, for school?
‘I can’t find it,’ Olivia calls out.
‘We’re late,’ I shout, before huffing up the stairs. I feel a heaviness in my chest, a spring tightly coiled, as I rifle desperately through her socks and knickers. ‘If I find it in here . . .’ I say, never finishing the sentence, because I’m not quite sure what I’m threatening. ‘Did you wear it last week?’
‘Yes,’ she says quietly, aware of my mood.
‘Well, do you remember bringing it home?’
‘Yes, definitely,’ she says confidently, knowing that any other response will have me blowing a gasket.
The grip on my chest releases as I spot the matt rubber cap in the back corner of the drawer. ‘Great,’ I say under my breath, before adding as I run down the stairs, ‘Livvy, you really do need to wake up. Sophia, we’re getting in the car.’
‘I’m coming,’ she shouts back indignantly, as if she’s said it three times already. With her music playing that loudly, how would anyone ever know?
She skulks into the passenger seat of the car and instantly pulls down the sun visor to inspect herself in the mirror as we drive.
‘Haven’t you just spent the past hour doing that?’ I ask.
She tuts and flicks it back up with as much attitude as it will allow.
‘What time will you be home tonight?’ I ask, ten minutes later, as I lean across and offer my cheek. She kisses it reluctantly, which she’s only just started doing again, since we struck a deal to park slightly further away from school.
‘There’s a maths revision class, so I’ll probably go to that,’ she says. ‘What’s for tea?’
We’ve just had breakfast, are at least four hours away from lunch, and she wants to know what’s for tea? I do a mental scan of the fridge. It doesn’t look too healthy. I might be able to rustle up a pasta dish, at best.
‘What would you like?’ I smile.
She shrugs her shoulders. ‘Don’t mind. Something nice?’
I pull her towards me and kiss the top of her head. ‘Go on, go. I’ll pop into Marks and Spencer if I get time.’
She smiles and gets out of the car. ‘See you, divvy Livvy.’
‘Bye poo face,’ giggles her little sister from the back seat.
I put the window down as we drive past her and call out, but she’s already locked into her phone, unseeing and unhearing of everything else around her. ‘Look up,’ I say to her silently. ‘You’ll never know what you might miss.’
Olivia and I do a light jog into school, which isn’t easy in these heels. ‘I love you,’ I say, as she rushes off to join a playground game of netball without looking back.