The Difference a Day Makes (39 page)

‘We’ll make it homely in no time,’ I assure her.

She gives me her all-adults-are-liars face.

Then the doorbell rings and rescues me. Hamish barks as usual, and as I go to open the door I have a momentary flash of blind panic. Suppose it’s the landlord come to check that we’re all right? Suppose, even worse, that he wants to come inside to check if we’re all right? We’re going to have to find a secret hiding-place for Hamish and Milly Molly Mandy, should the occasion arise. And gag Hamish. Why did I not consider until now just how much noise he’s capable of making? Something else for me to think about. It’s too late for now though, I’m already at the door and, if it is the landlord, he will have already heard Hamish’s greeting. I open it a crack and then breathe out a sigh of relief when I realise that it’s only my sister standing there.

‘What?’ she snaps when she sees the look on my face. ‘Did you think it was someone come to mug you on your first night back in the smoke?’

‘I thought it was the landlord,’ I say, ‘and, as we’ve got two illegal immigrants here, I was starting to panic.’

‘Oh, cripes,’ she says. ‘Forgot about that.’

‘Well, I hadn’t.’

I let her in and she gives me a bunch of flowers and a kiss while trying to dislodge our hound from her leg.

‘It’s not too bad, is it?’ I ask.

Serena wrinkles her nose.‘It’s horrible,’ she whispers.‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw it yesterday. Whatever possessed you?’

‘Price,’ I tell her.‘There was nothing else in our budget that wasn’t on the condemned list. At least this is clean and newly decorated.’

‘Fabulous. If beige is your favourite colour.’

‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ I point out.

‘Oh, sis,’ she says.‘Have you really done the right thing? You’ve left that massive house for this?’

‘You were the one encouraging me to come back to London.’

‘I was, wasn’t I?’ Serena agrees. ‘Wonder why I did that?’

‘You tell me.’

As a distraction technique, she nods at the flowers. ‘Think you might find a vase in this lot?’

‘Not now,’ I say, suddenly very weary. ‘I’ll put them in the sink for the time being.’

The kids have disappeared into their respective bedrooms to stake claim to their toys again. As my sister talks to me I rummage about in the boxes in the kitchen to find the kettle; I’m absolutely gasping for a hot drink. I picked up some milk and bread at one of the service stations even though our pit stops on the way down were as brisk as they could be because you can’t leave Hamish in the car alone for more than three minutes without him trying to eat it.

‘You will like it here?’ Serena says, chewing her lip. ‘Not here,
per se
, but back in London, I mean?’

‘I do hope so.’ The kettle boils. Not a moment too soon.

‘How did you leave things with Guy?’ she asks.

‘Badly,’ I tell her. ‘I think that he wants more than I can offer.’

‘That’s a shame,’ she offers. ‘He looked like a keeper to me.’ I shrug as if I’m unconcerned, but I am concerned, I just can’t afford to show it; I can’t afford to feel it. ‘I’m just looking forward to getting back to work, getting back to the life we used to have.’ I try a laugh, but it sits uneasily. ‘Bring it on!’

 

 

 

I
t’s eight o’clock and still dark when we sneak Hamish out of the flat for his morning constitutional in the little park across the street. The dog limps a bit on his newly mended back leg but, thankfully, he seems undeterred by this minor handicap.

The small green space is tiny and hemmed in by railings all round that need a new coat of paint, but Hamish immediately becomes demented even though he’s still supposed to be having only light exercise, and strains to be let off the lead. There’s litter strewn everywhere and I hope that there aren’t any discarded junkies’ needles or used condoms in it. I realise the only thing we’ve had to watch for out on the moors is stepping in a mine-field of poo from a variety of creatures. The dangers are of a different sort entirely here and it’s funny how soon you forget that. Once, not so very long ago, I would have wandered round a park like this and would have thought that it was quite pleasant.

After a couple of days getting used to the flat,Tom and Jessica are due to start their new school this morning, and it’s fair to say that neither of them are looking forward to the experience. My children’s faces would indicate that they’re about to go to the guillotine rather than a modern, inner-city primary school.

Reluctantly, I acquiesce to my dog’s demands and let Hamish off the lead even though that’s against vet’s orders. My heart squeezes as I think of Guy, but I push the thought away. My hound immediately charges away like a speeding bullet, not realising that before long he’s going to careen headlong into the railings that bound the other end of the park. I’m probably going to be wresting his head out of them before long. Can just see it coming.

‘It will be okay today,’ I reassure my children as they trail morosely in my wake.

Jessica sighs. ‘This isn’t exactly Yorkshire, is it?’

How am I going to deal with her when she’s sixteen rather than six? I shudder to think.

‘Give it a chance,’ I encourage her. ‘You didn’t like St Mary’s either when you first started there.’

My daughter chooses to ignore this comment, realising for once that her mother just might be right.

‘I didn’t go to sleep,’ Tom says with a weary yawn. ‘The cars were noisy and kept me awake.’

Me too. By dawn, lorries were thundering past our window, trying to shake the glass out of its frames. How different from being woken by nothing but the sound of tweeting birds. Still, I’m sure we’ll get used to it. This flat is not our permanent home. It’s a temporary measure, that’s all. Plus we all used to live in London before and managed to sleep perfectly well. I’m sure we did. Now my eyes feel like they’re being sandpapered by my eyelids. Don’t quite know how I’m going to stay awake for the rest of the day. Excess caffeine is probably the answer. I used to live on artificial stimulants when I was a high-powered executive before; I doubt it will be any different second time around.

At the end of the park, I hear a commotion. And, although it’s dark and I can’t quite see what’s going on, I know instantly who’s causing it. ‘Come on,’ I say to the kids. And, as one, we charge off towards the sound of Hamish’s joyous barking. When our dog is sounding at his most happy, it’s when I become most worried.

Sure enough, as we reach the end of the path, we come upon Hamish. My unruly mutt is currently trying to roger a prissy-looking little dog that might or might not be a Pomeranian. Whatever it is, it’s clearly not enjoying the rather robust sexual attentions of a rufty-tufty, twelve-stone Gordon Setter. Nor, it seems, is the dog’s owner. The woman is small, elderly and is wearing an old-fashioned, buttoned-up coat with a fur hat. She’s currently battering Hamish around his rather thick skull with a pink rolled-up umbrella. Hamish, gamely, is clearly thinking that this is a pleasant addition to the experience. He woofs in appreciation.

‘Is this your dog?’ she screams at me.

For a moment, I consider denying Hamish, but I have the damning evidence of a dog leash in my hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ I pant breathlessly as we all dash up to interrupt Hamish’s bit of fun.

‘Get him away from my Lou-Lou,’ she shouts. ‘Just get him away.’

I haul Hamish off the poor, traumatised Pom and clip his lead on again. ‘He’s only playing,’ I say brightly.

‘
Playing?
He was trying to force himself upon my poor little girl! I will get you and that thing barred from this park if he does that again,’ she warns, wagging a bony finger at me.

Hope she’s not one of my near neighbours. I’d forgotten just how unfriendly people in London can be.We can’t have Hamish banned as this is the only bit of greenery near to us. From now on I’ll have to keep him on a tight leash. Poor Hamish, I think.

‘Sheep and Pot-Bellied Pigs are one thing, Hamish,’ I whisper to him as he whines miserably when the object of his unrequited love limps away. ‘You’ve got to remember that dogs round here are soft, southern shandies. You’ll have to modify your courtship behaviour or you’re going to get us into a lot of trouble.’

Unperturbed, my dog pees on the nearest tree.What on earth’s going to happen to Hamish when I go back to work? Lots of people leave their dogs at home all day, but those dogs aren’t Hamish. I’m not going to be able to leave him in the flat all day without him trying to eat it, and I certainly can’t take him into the office with me. Can you imagine the chaos he’d cause? Something else it seems that I haven’t quite thought through.

It pains me to have to admit it, but I can’t manage without help. I called our ex-nanny’s mobile phone again to see if Maya could come to my rescue in the short term, as I could certainly do with her calm, efficient help now - but a tinny electronic voice told me that the number I was calling was out of service. Perhaps her employers have given her a whizzy new phone or something. Or she changed her number to stop me calling her and begging her to come back. And I realise that I feel hurt that she’s never got in touch with us at all since Will died.

Before I do anything else, I must go into the nearest employment agency today and fix myself up with a reliable nanny and bulletproof dogsitter with nerves of steel.

 

 

 

‘
G
et a move on, you two.’ I encourage my children to be speedy with their breakfast by tidying up around them. Wanted the jam? Too late, back in the fridge. I haven’t been able to eat anything myself, as my stomach is too nervous. Instead of feeling like a seasoned professional embarking on a new stage in her career, I feel as if I’m going to my first day at school - and it helps me to understand how daunting this must be for Tom and Jessica.

This is the first time I’d realised how leisurely our start to the day was at Helmshill Grange, with the school at the end of the road and me not having a tight timetable to stick to. ‘We need to leave in five minutes,’ I tell the kids. ‘Less.’

They both slide down from their stools at the work surface and head towards their coats. Good, good.

‘I want you to behave too.’ I wag my finger at Hamish, who has already found his favourite spot in the kitchen, lying exactly where we all trip over him. His tail pounds the floor. I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but he seems a bit quiet this morning. My alarm went off at some hideous hour so that I could sneak the dog out of the building and across the road to the park before anyone else was awake. He did his business without fuss, didn’t try to roger anything, not even the benches, no towing me behind him like a waterskier while he went to investigate some wonderful smell he’d discovered, no rolling in something completely unsavoury. It was like walking a different dog. ‘You okay?’ I ask him and he rolls doleful eyes at me. ‘I don’t want you eating the flat while we’re out. Get it?’

I take the listless thump of his tail as tacit agreement.

‘All you have to do is hang on until lunchtime and Kati will be here to take you out for a long W.A.L.K.’

My visit to Au Pair Positions was a great success. The very helpful young lady in the agency fixed me up with an Estonian girl - the aforementioned Kati - who’s now gainfully employed to look after Jessica, Tom and Hamish. Milly Molly Mandy, as always, can look after herself.

Kati is a slim blonde with slightly scary eye make-up and more holes in her ears than a colander, but otherwise seemed like a perfectly pleasant specimen of human nature and competent to boot. She’s over here ostensibly as a language student, despite speaking five different tongues fluently already. Our new au pair is supposed to be as reliable as rain in summer, marvellous with children, a lover of animals - even Hamish, it seems - and could beat Jamie Oliver hands down in a cook-off. I snapped her up immediately.

‘Have you got your lunches?’ The children nod miserably as they stand there waiting for me. ‘School won’t be so bad today,’ I promise them. ‘The first day is always the worst and you’ve cracked that. It will just get better from now on.’

They both look unconvinced by my optimism and my heart breaks for them. ‘We’d better get a move on.’

Barricading Hamish in the kitchen, I then tie the door handle to the one across the hall with a scarf, so that he can’t escape. I can only hope that he’s still like that when Kati arrives. As soon as I can afford to get a better place, I will find somewhere with a garden - and a six-foot perimeter fence with razor wire on top and maybe a guard tower. Anything else and Hamish will be out of it.

Tom and Jessica are hustled out of the door for another day of torture at their new school. They’ll be there way too early, but I want to make sure that they get there safely before I go off to work. It’s still dark and this road is too busy for them to walk along alone. The traffic is whipping by and it’s so loud that we can’t hold a conversation, so I just grip Jessica’s hand and tow her along at my pace.

Outside the school, I kiss them both goodbye. Tom lets me as there are currently no other pupils around to witness it. ‘Go straight indoors,’ I instruct. ‘Remember to wait for Kati at home time. She’ll be here to collect you and take you back to the flat. Okay?’

They both nod.

‘Got the key, Tom?’

My son produces it from his pocket to show it to me. I thought I’d better give him a spare just in case Kati doesn’t turn out to be quite as reliable as she seems and manages to lose hers.

‘Guard it with your life.’

He nods again.

‘I love you,’ I say. Grief, I’m tearing up. I hug them both to me. Tom is less impressed this time. ‘I hope you have a better day today. Wish Mummy luck too.’

My children mumble something at me that I think is supposed to spur me on to greatness. ‘Now scoot.’ I turn Jessica round and give her a playful slap on the bottom to set them on their way. Watching them walk into the school together, I brush the tears away with the sleeve of my coat. They look too tiny to be going into such an enormous building on their own.