If I Should Go. Amanda Brooke

tone so they wouldn’t be overheard.

      ‘Oh,’ Rachel said in dismay. Hope had never been in trouble at school before but it was clear by the way Mrs Carnegie emphasised the words that ‘quiet time’ wasn’t a good thing.

      ‘Hopefully it was just a storm in a teacup, but she did become quite upset.’

      ‘I’ll have a word with her,’ Rachel said as, on cue, a small face peered around the door. Hope’s long lashes brushed against her cheeks as she fluttered her eyes at her mother. She was the picture of innocence but Rachel didn’t doubt for a moment that her daughter had heard the exchange between teacher and parent.

      As they began the short walk home, Hope slipped her small hand into Rachel’s and began to skip.

      ‘So,’ Rachel said, ‘what have you been up to today?’

      ‘Michael Jones threw up after lunch. He went blurgh, all over the floor,’ Hope said dramatically, ‘and splashed Tasha’s shoes. It was disgusting!’

      ‘It sounds it.’

      ‘What are we having for tea? Can we have fish fingers and chips please, Mummy?’

      ‘I was going to make Spaghetti Bolognese as a surprise for Nana. It’s her favourite,’ Rachel said. She wanted to have a serious talk with her mum and although pasta wasn’t going to make what she had to say more palatable, it was worth a try.

      ‘Fish fingers are her favourite too,’ Hope told her helpfully.

      The little girl was looking to her mum for a response but Rachel was momentarily distracted by the battered Volvo parked at the top of the road.

      ‘Martin?’ Rachel said, greeting him as if they were practical strangers.

      He smiled softly and winked at her. ‘Fancy meeting you here. I was just on the phone to one of my clients,’ he said waving his mobile at her. ‘He was wondering where I’ve been for the last couple of hours when I was scheduled to be on site.’

      ‘Oh,’ she said, still none the wiser. Martin hadn’t objected to holding off from meeting her daughter until they were both sure of their feelings for each other, so she was at a loss to explain why he would contrive a meeting and there was no doubt in her mind it was contrived. Had his slip up today made him think again? Was he eager to meet the girl who might one day become his step-daughter? While those thoughts only fuelled Rachel’s excitement about the future, she needed more time to prepare Hope for a proper introduction. If Martin wanted a glimpse at the family he might one day inherit, it was going to be just that.

      Hope pulled at Rachel’s hand as she stared at the man with neatly trimmed dark hair and hazel eyes which hadn’t left her mum’s face. ‘Sorry,’ Rachel said, ‘this is my daughter, Hope. Hope, say hello to Martin.’

      ‘Hello,’ she mumbled with another tug at her mum’s hand.

      ‘Hello, Hope. It’s nice to meet you. Have you had a good day at school?’

      Hope shrugged.

      ‘What’s your teacher’s name?’

      The little girl mumbled, ‘Mrs Carnegie,’ before turning to Rachel. ‘Can we go now, Mummy?’

      ‘In a minute,’ Rachel said a little too brightly. She was standing stock still, trying to disguise the fact that her daughter was dragging on her arm.

      She had known Martin’s people skills weren’t the best but it looked as if children would be a new challenge entirely. He appeared even more nervous than Hope. ‘What’s your favourite subject?’ he tried again. ‘Mine was chemistry.’

      Silence.

      Rachel gave Martin a smile of encouragement which he latched onto like a life buoy. ‘I suppose I’d better get going but I’ll see you again soon. Both of you,’ he added, more as an afterthought.

      After watching Martin’s car recede into the distance for the second time that day, Rachel no longer felt as if she was walking on air but wading through a mire.

      ‘You shouldn’t talk to strangers,’ Hope said.

      ‘Martin isn’t a stranger, sweetheart. He’s a very nice man.’

      ‘Nope,’ the little girl corrected, ‘he’s a bad man.’

      ‘Hope, that’s not a very nice thing to say!’ Rachel said, only just stopping herself from saying more. She didn’t want to open up a discussion about what the future might hold and the role Martin might play, and so they carried on their journey in silence.

      After a few minutes, they crossed over Sedgefield High Street and slipped down a side road crowded with redbrick terraced houses, one of which was where they lived with Rachel’s mum. It had tiny gardens front and back which were pretty enough but offered little appeal to a child growing up – Rachel could testify to that. She wanted more for Hope; a family home with large rooms and a garden big enough for a little girl to roam free. But after her daughter’s recent encounter with the man who could provide that perfect life, Rachel was only too aware that those dreams weren’t yet within touching distance.

      Standing at the garden gate, Rachel brought her thoughts back to the realities of the present. ‘Did anything else happen today? Anything that Mrs Carnegie might want you to talk to me about?’ She swept a hand over her little girl’s glossy brown hair before cupping her chin and turning her face upwards. ‘What happened, sweetheart?’

      ‘We were colouring in numbers and there were no green crayons on our table. The Red Table were using them all and they wouldn’t share.’

      ‘And?’

      ‘I tried to tell them that I needed it for my number eight but they still wouldn’t let me have one,’ Hope said. ‘And then Mrs Carnegie said I didn’t have to use green!’ Hope’s chin pushed against Rachel’s hand as she tried to lower her head, only managing to lower her voice. ‘I don’t think she knows what she’s talking about.’