Bound by Ivy (16 page)

49

The next morning, I wake to the sounds of vacuuming and the smell fresh coffee drifting up the stairs. I sit bolt upright, listening out for Sammy, but hear nothing.

I check my watch.

It’s 9am.

Wow. I really did sleep last night. But
my heart starts beating fast when I realise Sammy didn’t wake me. God, I hope he’s okay.

I leap out of bed and run into his bedroom, but he’s not in his cot. My heart beating even faster
now, I run downstairs in my pyjamas and nearly bump into Rodney, who has a vacuum cleaner in one hand and Shake and Vac in the other.

‘Oh!’ I give a startled yelp. ‘Rodney. You must be ... Marc said ... where’s Sammy?’

‘He’s in the living area,’ says Rodney. ‘Playing.’

I tear into the lounge
and find Sammy clambering over another house guest. A very familiar one.

I break into a huge smile.

‘Jen.’

‘Soph.’ Jen smiles back. She’s sitting on the sofa, helping Sammy climb over her legs. She’s dressed in what counts for her as casual attire – her shiny hair is pulled back in a sleek, sophisticated bun and her tight black jeans fit her perfectly. ‘Marc called me in as the emergency babysitter. Said you could use a little help. I wish you’d called me. I would have been here days ago.’

I take a seat beside
her and help Sammy climb onto my lap. ‘I thought you’d be working. I didn’t want to—’

‘Bother me. Yes,
yes, I’ve known you long enough. You don’t want anyone else put out on your account. But you know, sometimes Soph, you’ve just got to reach out. Or you’ll fall apart and then you’ll be no good to anyone.’

‘It’s great
to see you,’ I say. ‘Really great.’

‘You too. I feel
like I’ve lost my best friend this last month. A show every single night? Who works seven days a week? Even God gets a day off a week.’

‘It’s only until March
.’

‘I know, I know. And then you’ll h
ave a big white wedding and live happily ever after.’

‘Hope so.’ A
n uneasy feeling works its way up my spine as I think about that note in the garden last night.

‘Are you okay?’ Jen cock
s her head. ‘You just shivered.’

‘I’m probably just cold.’

‘Then go upstairs and put some clothes on, for god’s sake.’ Jen smiles at me. ‘It’s winter. You didn’t need to come charging downstairs like a mad woman. Sammy’s fine with me. Honest.’

‘I know he is.’ I kiss Sammy’s head. ‘He loves you almost as much as I do.’

‘Oh, you.’ Jen play slaps my arm.

‘How’d you get time off work?’ I ask. ‘Are you sure your company are okay with you leavin
g them in the lurch like this?’

‘Oh, they’re fine,’ says Jen. ‘Absolutely fine.
’

‘But they’re usually so strict.’

‘I know. But I don’t pay any attention right now. You know why?’

‘Why?’

‘Because as of yesterday, I don’t work for them any more.’

My eyes widen. ‘You don’t?
’ A crazy thought enters my head. ‘Jen, you didn’t quit to come help me out did you?’

‘No. I mean, you know I’d do anything for you, but as it happen
s, this was just the right time to leave.’

‘
Is everything okay?’ I ask. ‘You didn’t get sacked, did you?’ I know Jen. She’s not afraid to speak her mind and sometimes it gets her into trouble.

‘No
.’ Jen laughs. ‘I’m setting up my own business. You know. The one I’ve been talking about since I left school. My own PR firm.’

‘Wow. That’s amazing.
But shouldn’t you be in front of a computer somewhere, looking for clients or something?’

‘
I’ve got a bit of breathing space, actually. On account of the fact I’ve already got an amazing client.’

‘Wow! Already? Who is it? Anyone I’ve heard of?
’

‘Oh, I think you’ve
heard of him. His name is Marc Blackwell.’

50

I stare at Jen. ‘Marc Blackwell is your first PR client?’

‘Yep.
I’m going to do an amazing job for him. And for you. You’re part of his business, in case you didn’t know. Damage limitation. I have to protect your reputation at all times.’

I laugh. ‘Wow. That’s weird. But ... I guess good weird. I mean, are you happy about it?’

‘I’m bloody ecstatic. My first client, a Hollywood star. It’s amazing. Thank you so much Soph, for introducing me to him. I can’t wait to start work.’

‘Oh, I don’t think I did all that much,’ I say. ‘I mean, he wouldn’t have hired you unless he thought you were good. And
we both know you’re more than just good.’

‘Flattery, flattery.’

‘But if Marc’s your client, shouldn’t you be working for him right now?’

‘Well, like I said, I have a bit of breathing space. On acc
ount of the fact he asked me to come over and help you for a few weeks. And he’s paying me a retainer while I’m here. Nice guy, isn’t he?’

‘A l
ittle too nice,’ I say. ‘I don’t want anyone put out for me. You or him, or anyone. But … it’s good to have you here.’

‘I know.
We’ll have fun, won’t we?’

‘We always do
.’

*****

Later that afternoon, I get another surprise. Marc has arranged for Denise to come over and give me singing lessons at the cottage.

When she arrives, the house
is sparkling clean thanks to Rodney. Sammy is sleeping soundly upstairs and Jen is flicking through
Heat
magazine. Rodney is in the garden, scrubbing the patio with bleach. Dad is upstairs making a pile of old clothes for the charity shop.

‘Denise.
’ I throw my arms around her. ‘Good to see you.’

‘Can’t let my favourite pupil get behind on her studies.’
Denise ambles into the cottage and puts her huge handbag on the floor by piles of muddy trainers and wellies.

‘Oh,
I’m sure you have lots of favourite pupils,’ I say, leading her into the lounge area.

‘True. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love them all very, very much.’

‘Come on through.’

In the lounge, Jen’s head snaps up
. ‘Hi Denise. How are you doing?’

‘Fine, fine. And you?’

‘Great.’

I hear a thumping
sound as someone runs down the stairs. It’s Dad, of course. No one else can make a noise like that just by moving around. He comes spilling into the lounge area, looking a little out of breath.

His
face lights up when he sees Denise. ‘I thought I heard your voice.’

Denise smiles back at him. ‘Good to see you Mike.’

‘Tea?’ Dad asks.

‘Lovely,’ says Denise.

‘I can make it,’ I say, spying the now tidy kitchen. If I let Dad loose in there, there’ll be milk all over the counter and sugar on the floor.

‘No,
I’ll
make it,’ says Rodney, coming in from the garden with yellow rubber gloves on and a bucket of black water hanging from his fingers. ‘You, Sophia Rose, are supposed to be taking it easy today.’

‘I slept in until nine,’ I counter.

‘It should have been until noon,’ says Rodney. ‘And don’t think I didn’t catch you trying to tidy the kitchen today.’

‘I was just doing the cupboards
—’

Rodney wags a finger at me. ‘No more! That’s my department. Now you sit down and I’ll bring in the tea.’

51

Before the lesson starts, Denise and I have a catch up about Ivy College. Tom and Tanya are looking very much in love these days, apparently.
Which makes me smile a lot. I feel bad, though, about not having seen them since before Christmas.

Wendy
is on a much deserved holiday, so the admin side of college life is a bit of a mess.

Marc still teaches classes, and the students are all learning plenty. Hearing that makes me pine, not only for Marc, but for his lessons. I learned so much from him in such a short space of time. When he taught me for a week, after the Giles Getty incident, I felt like I rea
lly grew.

After a general catch up, Denise hits me with the bombshell. 

‘I’m sure you’re aware that Cecile was asked to leave the college,’ Denise says, stirring sugar into her tea.

‘I
was aware.’

‘Her friend Ryan isn’t very happy about it. But he hasn’t had the courage to complain. He just walks around the place with a scowl on his face.’

‘I imagine leaving the college must have been devastating for her,’ I say.

‘Indeed. The plan was to let her get the help she needed, and then
she could come back when she was well again. But … oh the poor girl. Her family won’t have anything to do with her now, what with her leaving the college and being pregnant. So … she’s taken a turn for the worse. And from what I hear, she isn’t getting any help at all.’

I chew a
thumb nail. ‘That’s … bad news,’ I say. ‘To be pregnant and all alone. It must be terrible.’

‘Yes. It must be. But she was offered help. She didn’t take it. She’s chosen to go in another
direction.’

‘Another direction?’

Denise nods. ‘She’s been seen around certain underground clubs.’

‘
Oh. I heard that too,’ I say, chewing so hard that a strip of fingernail comes free.

‘From Marc?’ asks Denise, raising an eyebrow.

‘Yes.’

‘He’s keeping an eye on her. We all are. But I’m sure everything will work out just fine.’

‘Yes,’ I say, uncertainly.

‘Shall we get on with the lesson?’

*****

It feels weird singing at full volume in my dad’s cottage, especially since I know Dad, Jen
, Sammy and Rodney are around the place. But once I get over the embarrassment, Denise and I have a great lesson.

By the time we’ve finished, I’m reaching
notes I’ve never reached before and my voice sounds clearer than ever.

Rodney brings us
an afternoon tea of freshly baked scones, homemade jam and farmyard butter when the lesson is over, and Jen, Dad, Denise and I sit in the lounge, feeding Sammy spoons of jam, eating scones and drinking loose leaf tea.

It doesn’t take long before Dad starts chatting to Denise about 1960s music, and soon they’re both lost in a world of psyche
delic tunes and childhood memories, while the rest of us play with Sammy.

Seeing my Dad talking to Denise, I realise it’s the first time I’ve seen him properly smile since Christmas
morning The two of them are really making each other laugh.

When we finish our scones, Dad asks Denise
if she’d like to stay for the afternoon and a spot of dinner later, and Denise agrees.

‘Don’t you have classes to teach at the college?’ I ask.

‘Not this afternoon,’ says Denise. ‘You don’t mind me staying, do you Sophia? You can say if you do. I’ll understand. I know I came for Christmas, but a weekday social visit from your teacher might be a step too far.’

Jen gives a snort of laughter. ‘She’s done much more than that with her teacher.’

‘Jen!’

‘Sorry. Easy line.’

‘I don’t see you as a teacher anyway,’ I tell Denise. ‘You’re a friend.’

‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ says Denise. ‘Because you’re a friend
too.’

‘I’m glad
,’ I say. Then I have an idea. ‘Dad, if Denise is staying for the rest of the afternoon and Jen is watching Sammy, how would you feel if I went to visit Marc’s sister before my show? She’s back in hospital now and she must be pretty lonely.’

I don’t add that with Denise here,
I’m no longer needed to keep Dad company.

Dad frowns a little. ‘Sophia, the wh
ole point of not seeing Marc is so you can do your own thing. Be your own person. Get some distance.’

‘It’s not Annabe
l’s fault that you’ve put me in this position,’ I say. ‘Don’t keep her from having visitors, just because you’re not sure about Marc.’

Dad sighs. ‘P
oint taken. Okay. Fine.’

‘I’ll be back in time to cook dinner.’

‘Oh no you won’t.’ Rodney picks up cups and saucers and loads them onto a tray. ‘Cooking is my department right now. Marc’s orders. You’re to take it easy, and focus on the show.’

‘For once, Marc and I agree on something,’ says Dad.

52

The hospital isn’t at all what I expect. For a start, it doesn’t look like a
hospital. It’s more like a stately home with red brick walls, big chimney stacks and acres of green lawn and fir trees all around.

Annabel is staying in
West London, not far from where Marc took me when Ryan drugged my drink. It takes me a full five minutes to walk up the long stone path to the grand pillared entrance of the hospital.

I push through a heavy black door into a light, airy recepti
on area with thick carpet, and smell lemon fragrance and camomile tea.

W
aiting on a beige-leather sofa by the reception desk is Annabel.

‘Sophia.
’ She leaps up and throws her arms around me in a bony hug. ‘I’m so, so glad you came. It’s … I’ve had a bad day today.’

‘Then I’m extra glad I came,’ I
say. ‘I brought you scones. Tell me about your bad day.’

I hand her a wicker basket, covered with a red checked cloth.

‘Did you make these?’ says Annabel, pulling back the cloth. ‘They smell delicious.’

‘I should have,’ I say. ‘But no. Rodney did. Next time I’ll bake you something
myself.’

‘Don’t be silly. Having you here is more than enough. You don’t need to bring anything other than yourself.
It’s such a relief that I can have visitors now. Before Christmas, I was so, so lonely.’

‘You’re looking r
eally well,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry to hear today hasn’t been great.’

Annabel nods
and puts the scone basket down on a coffee table. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’

*****

As Annabel and I stroll through the green grounds, it’s great to smell the soil and see the bare branches overhead. Sometimes, when I’m at the theatre, I feel like concrete is caving in on me. It’s nice to know there are parts of London, aside from Ivy College, that are green and natural.

We walk for a while in silence. Then Annabel tells
me why she’s had a bad day.

‘This morning, I found out that getting my son
back isn’t as straightforward as I thought,’ she says. ‘There are lots of assessments. Paperwork. Things I have to prove that I just can’t prove. That I’ll provide a stable home. That there’ll be friends around to support me. That I can earn an income. I … everything just feels impossible right now.’

Her bony face sags and I notice how muc
h older she looks now we’re in the daylight. I slide an arm through hers.

‘I can help you,’ I say. ‘I had to fill out lots of those sorts of forms for Dad when I was younger. Some of the neighbours thought he wasn’t a fit parent. So we had people coming to check on us all the time.’

‘I’m surprised to hear you had those sorts of troubles,’ says Annabel.

‘We’re a close family
,’ I say. ‘But we’ve had hard times, too. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Dad had just lost his wife when all that stuff happened. He was grieving. But anyway, enough about me. Marc and I will help you get everything you need to get your son back.’

‘
But Marc has already done so much for me. And you have too. The whole point of getting well is so I can stand on my own two feet. I need to stop taking from people and start living.’

‘Annabel. You’re beating a major drug addition.
Now is exactly the time you need help from other people. Get well first, then you can start giving to others.’

‘I don’t know, Sophia. Everything just feels a little hopeless right
now. I don’t deserve Daniel. That little boy needs a better mum than me.’

I shake my head. ‘Annabel, no little boy should grow up in care. You’re a good person. You’ve just had a tough life, that’
s all.’ I slide my arm free from hers and put my hands firmly on her shoulders. ‘If you can beat heroin then you can do anything – including being a good mother. And Marc and I will help you every step of the way.’