‘Don’t worry, sweetie, she’s just gone to move the car.’
I wonder how Esther knows what I am thinking. I haven’t even spoken out loud! I start to edge backwards, my blood fizzing like Coca-Cola. What if Esther is only pretending to be nice? What if she’s really the Wicked Witch of the West? She wears a green cardigan and a black skirt hangs from her bony hips. My eyes dart over towards the washing machine, which growls loudly in the corner of the kitchen. What if her cape is in the wash?
‘Ahhh, here’s Barny.’
A scraggly brown dog runs past my feet, causing me to jump high in the air. It begins to bark loudly, until the boy with the big belly throws it a piece of toast. Esther is shouting again, her voice as high as a steam train. I look out of the window to where snow clings to the branches of the trees. Wasn’t that what happened in The Wizard of Oz? Didn’t Glinda send snow to wake up Dorothy? The window is shut which means Glinda can’t help me. I am trapped!
‘Would you like an egg, dear? They’re almost done.’ Esther is tipping a timer upside down, the pink sand spilling from top to bottom as quick as tap water. Heat travels up my chest and neck and I begin to choke. I ignore Esther, instead checking the sky for monkeys, their screeching laughter hurting my head.
‘Louisa, darling, are you all right?’
Esther walks towards me, her arms stretched out in front of her. Her face has turned a deep shade of green, her nose even pointier and her eyes as black as wet pebbles. The pan on the stove bangs really loudly, as loud as a drum, the hot water spitting out at me.
I feel a warm sensation trickle down my legs. ‘I’m melting,’ I whisper, while looking around for the Good Witch of the East to save me.
‘She’s a fucking fruit loop.’ The boy with the big tummy starts to screech like a monkey, his toast flying out of his mouth, his spit landing on my face. I see the cup of tea on the table, the unfinished toast on the plate.
Wizard of Oz, Tea, Toast, Bedroom, Mummy!
Running over towards the stove, I grab hold of the pan, desperate to escape from the witches’ lair. It is really heavy, and it spits at me as I throw the boiling water at the Wicked Witch of the West.
I watch with wide eyes as she begins to melt. Closing my eyes, I tap my shoes together and pray to go home.
Louisa
Now
The pram vibrates over the city’s cobbles as an icy wind hits me head-on. Tucking my chin into my chest I plough on, knowing only that I have to keep walking.
When the phone rang earlier today, my heart jumped up into my throat. I was still holding the card in my hands and I threw it across the hallway, convinced it must be him ringing me. It wasn’t him, nor was it James. It was Magda, my best friend, ringing to see if I fancied lunch in the city centre. I didn’t particularly, but when Magda sets her mind to something it’s nigh on impossible to dissuade her.
As I pull open Caffè Nero’s heavy, glass-faced door, a warm blast of infused cinnamon and freshly roasted coffee beans invades my senses. I struggle through the entrance, Cory’s bulky pram wheels catching on the partially raised step. I allow the door to swing shut behind me, temporarily locking out my fears.
Once inside, I take a moment to drink in my surroundings, enjoying the promise of Christmas which sugarcoats the air. City workers, shoppers and students blend into one, their chatter the vocal accompaniment to a backing track of milk being frothed and metal spoons clinking against the side of porcelain cups.
The café is warm and dimly lit, the pot lighting peeking out from the ceiling like the whites of excited eyes. The warm flicker of golden fairy lights, which are draped across the windows, gives the impression of an open fire.
I remove my hood and shake out my hair, my fingers stiff with cold. My reflection, in the chrome underbelly of the glass serving counter, catches my eye. I look tired, my skin almost translucent, my clothes baggy and hanging off me in all the wrong places. A yawn fills my chest, my eyes stinging. It doesn’t matter, I think to myself. You’re a new mother, this is how you’re meant to look. Averting my gaze, I search out Magda, knowing she’ll compliment me regardless of how I look.
‘Louisa! Over here.’ Following the sound of her familiar high-pitched voice, I see her standing in the far corner of the café, her rainbow-coloured hair reminding me of a unicorn’s mane. A smile breaks out on my face as our eyes connect.
Magda, a successful counsellor with her own practice, is what you might refer to as ‘one of a kind’. What she lacks in height she certainly makes up for in personality, her flamboyance and crazy dress sense a breath of fresh air against the dullness of everyday life.
I make a conscious decision to place my fears surrounding the card to the back of my mind, determined to enjoy this time with my friend. After all, this is the first time she’ll be meeting Cory, another ‘first’ I always dreamed would one day actually happen.
As I weave the pram in and out of the thin gaps between the tables and chairs, I find myself having to mutter ‘excuse me’ a dozen times, the café absolutely heaving. ‘Oh no, no, please no.’ My heart sinks into my stomach as Magda’s friend Annette crosses my path, twiddling what looks like a cinnamon stick in her Frappuccino while trying in vain to peel a frown from her face. She sits down beside Magda and glares over at me, obviously aware of my arrival.
‘Hi, Mags. Annette.’ I smile at both of them in turn as I reach their table, my stomach somersaulting, even though I’m not sure why.
‘Oh my goodness, look at you!’ Magda jumps up, sending her chair flying back into the table behind, and kisses me on both cheeks. She smells of eucalyptus oil and hair dye. ‘You’re absolutely glowing… beautiful.’
‘Oh don’t, I look like shit. Nice hair colour by the way,’ I say through a laugh. ‘Or should I say colours. How many are actually in there?’
‘Oh, who knows.’ She beams, while sliding her fingers through it, revealing a turquoise and orange undertone. ‘I’ve had every colour of the rainbow over the last few years so I thought I’d have ‘em all in one bloody go. Not sure I like it though… might be time for a change.’ She pulls out a free chair. ‘Have a seat. Can I get you a drink? We haven’t ordered food yet.’
‘No, don’t be silly, I’ll get my own. And a change in hair colour already?’ I laugh, raising my eyebrows in mock surprise even though I feel anything but. ‘Six weeks ago you were electric blue. You must spend a fortune at the hairdresser’s.’
‘Well, I’m worth it.’ She beams, fluttering her eyelashes at me.
I narrow my eyes at her. Something about her demeanour is definitely different, almost as if she’s excited about something. ‘You got a fella on the go or something, Mags?’
Her cheeks pinken ever so slightly. ‘God no, you know I don’t do men. Waste of bloody space the lot of ‘em.’
‘If you say so.’ I wink at her, letting her know I’m only teasing. ‘Hi, Annette,’ I try again, fully aware she hasn’t yet met my eye.
Annette, who owns the village pharmacy with her husband, Ron, sits in stark contrast to Magda, her frizzy grey hair standing on end like a wire brush. Despite her self-proclaimed wealth, and her obviously expensive clothes, she always manages to look like a farmhand. It’s fair to say we wouldn’t speak at all if it wasn’t for Magda. Annette is somewhat pompous and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have any friends at all if Magda hadn’t taken her under her wing.
She looks up at me for the briefest of seconds, her top lip curled into a sneer. ‘Hi, Louisa.’
‘Well,