‘Wow. I’ll say you did,’ said Kit, inspecting his daughter’s face. ‘Poor you, Poppy, you’ve had a rough day by the sound of it. Now, don’t be worrying about what happened this morning, I’m going to speak to that little toerag’s mother. He won’t be bothering you again, I promise.’
‘People break promises,’ said Poppy. ‘Neve said they did. You do. Neve does.’
‘That’s enough,’ said Neve.
‘Yes, that’s enough,’ echoed Kit. ‘Don’t be worrying now.’
‘Neve’s got muddy shoes,’ said Poppy.
Kit looked over at Neve. ‘I went for a walk by the river. I haven’t had time to clean them yet. Right, what do you want for tea?’ Neve made an attempt to distract Poppy.
Just at that moment Kit’s mobile began to ring. ‘Sorry, need to answer this,’ said Kit.
‘Jake’s shoes must be muddy too,’ said Poppy.
‘Hello. Kit Masters.’ Kit answered his phone and gave his daughter an odd look. ‘Hi, Sean. Yes, it’s fine. No, no, don’t worry, I can speak now.’
‘Jake and Neve sitting—.’
‘Poppy! Shhh, your dad’s on the phone!’ Neve rushed over to close the door as Kit made his way out of the kitchen. He turned and although listening to Sean speaking, he gave Neve a long hard stare.
Neve woke up early the next morning, her guilt not allowing her the luxury of sleep. She’d put pressure on Poppy to lie to her father, if necessary. But worse, she had taken advantage of Poppy’s naivety and of her own ability to manipulate Poppy’s thoughts to protect herself. At the time, it seemed justifiable but deep down, she knew it wasn’t. The house was still, and Neve padded downstairs to make herself a cup of tea and sit in front of the TV watching reruns of property shows. The latest being a renovation project in Devon.
It seemed even the TV company was conspiring to add to her guilt. Devon immediately took her thoughts back to Megan.
She missed Megan so much.
Neve thought of the glorious holidays she’d shared with her family as a child and the memories made her smile. Mum and Dad always rented a cottage in Devon and they would spend two weeks of the summer there. Neve and Megan loved the big sweeping beaches, the roaring north coast waves and the breeze that came with it. They’d made a pact that one day they would buy their own little cottage in Devon and would live there together with their own children.
A dark cloud raced across Neve’s mind, blocking out the happy memories. She picked up the remote control and switched channels. She didn’t want to be reminded of what happened. It was too painful to revisit.
‘You’re up early,’ said Kit coming into the room.
Neve looked up and was pleased for the distraction. ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she replied.
Kit went over and bent to kiss the top of her head. He was already dressed for work and smelt of lemon zest shower gel. ‘Have you thought of going to the doctor?’
‘No. I don’t need to see a doctor. I’m not taking any sleeping pills or anything like that.’
Kit rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘OK. It was only a suggestion. It’s no big deal taking something to help you sleep. Lots of people do.’
‘I said no.’ She stood up and brushed past him as she headed down the hall. There was such a lot Kit didn’t know about her and taking medication to help with stress and poor sleeping was one of them. The side-effects of walking around in a daze-like state, thinking through a permanent foggy mind and feeling constantly drowsy was awful, and she had no intention of ever going there again.
‘What’s on the agenda today?’ asked Kit, following her into the kitchen.
‘Not sure.’
‘You’re not going to your art therapy class, then?’
Her heart missed a beat. ‘Yes, I meant apart from that, I’m not sure,’ she replied evenly, although inside she was wary of where the conversation was going. Last night after he had finished his phone call, he hadn’t referred to Poppy’s comment about Jake’s shoes. Neve had been on tenterhooks all evening, waiting for him to remember, but it seemed it hadn’t stuck in his mind at all. Thank goodness!
‘I’ve been thinking about your art. I’d really like to see some of your work,’ said Kit, taking his freshly made coffee from the machine. ‘That’s if you don’t mind? I thought maybe you’d like to share it with me, rather than just Jake.’
‘It’s not really art for sharing or displaying,’ said Neve, not wanting to meet his gaze. ‘It’s therapy. It’s …’ she hesitated, the word ‘private’ resting on her lips.
‘But Jake gets to see it,’ continued Kit, clearly not wanting to let the subject drop.
‘I’d be embarrassed,’ she said, at last. ‘I’m not good at art, I just find it an outlet for my emotions.’
‘That sounds like a textbook quote,’ said Kit. He put his coffee cup down and went over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him and tipping her chin up to him with his finger. ‘I just thought if you showed me your art, I might be able to understand better. You know … what happened. After all this time, you’ve never really told me about it.’
‘You know what it is,’ said Neve, attempting to pull away. There was good reason why she’d never spoken about it. It was a parent’s worst fear. A nightmare come true. Losing a child was something no parent should have to deal with.
‘It’s not just that,’ said Kit, his voice taking on a firmer line. Neve tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let her. He spoke again. ‘If only you’d let me in. Maybe I could help you.’
Neve felt a glimmer of hope. Did he really mean what he said? ‘You know how you can help me.’
Immediately his face darkened, and his hands dropped away. ‘Don’t, Neve. That wasn’t what I meant and you know it. We’re supposed to be giving each other time to think.’ He slipped the knot of his tie up to his collar. ‘Piss off to Jake and do your art therapy with him. It’s obviously what makes you happy.’
‘It’s not like that …’ her voice trailed away as Kit left the room. She didn’t finish her sentence because, in actual fact, it was like that or at least it could be like that.
‘And don’t forget we’re out to dinner tonight. With the Harrisons,’ he called. Neve heard him call out a goodbye to Poppy as he opened the front door, pulling it shut behind him without another word to her.
She let out a sigh. What was it with Kit, lately? He had brought the conversation round to the art course and what had happened to her more than once. In fact, it was becoming a pet topic of conversation for him. Kit was like a dog with a bone. He didn’t give up. He always had to win.
She pushed herself away from the worktop. Dinner with the Harrisons. Joy of joys. She couldn’t wait. Another evening of small talk with Julia, who would spend most of the time telling Neve how well her children were doing with their studies. Which universities they had applied for or been accepted at. What their interim school reports said. What extra-curricular activity they were doing, which of course, they would excel at. Neve wouldn’t have much to offer to the conversation. She couldn’t compete with any of that. Oh, she’d tell Julia how proud she was that Poppy could now swim ten metres on her own with the aid of a float and how Poppy had successfully made herself a sandwich the other day. And Julia would nod and smile, but in that sympathetic way she did to hide the obvious relief that her