In a Dark, Dark Wood (11 page)

I glanced at my phone – 6.48, still no reception – and then grabbed a cardigan and padded to the window. When I drew back the curtain I almost laughed. It had snowed in the night, not heavily, but enough to transform the landscape into a Victorian picture postcard.
That
was the strange pattering I’d heard the night before. If I’d got up and looked outside the window, I would have known.

The sky was a blaze of pinks and blues, the clouds peach-coloured and lit from beneath, the ground a soft speckled carpet of white, criss-crossed with bird prints and fallen pine needles.

The sight made my feet itch, and I knew immediately and piercingly that I
had
to go for a run.

My trainers on the radiator were crusted with mud from yesterday but they were dry, and so were my leggings. I pulled on a thermal top and a hat, but I didn’t think I’d need a coat. Even running on a frosty day, I give off enough heat to keep myself warm, provided the wind doesn’t get up. The morning outside was still. Not a tree branch waved in the wind, and the only snowfalls were caused by gravity, not wind; tree branches bending beneath the weight of their load.

I could hear gentle snores from all the rooms as I padded quietly down the stairs in my socks, pulling on my trainers only when I got to the doormat, to save Flo’s aunt’s floors. The front door had an intimidating array of locks and bolts, so I tiptoed through to the kitchen, which was just the kind with a handle and a key. The key turned smoothly, and I lifted the handle. I winced as I pulled open the door, suddenly wondering if there was an alarm I should have deactivated – but no screaming siren rang out, and I slipped out into the frosty morning undetected and began my warm up.

It was maybe forty minutes later when I jogged slowly back up the forest path, my cheeks glowing with the cold and the exertion, my breath a cloud of white against the piercing blue of the sky. I felt light and calm, the frustrations and tensions left somewhere back in the forest, but it was with a slightly sinking heart that I saw the combi-boiler was emitting a cloud of steam like an express train. Someone was up, and using the hot water.

I’d been hoping to have a quiet hour to myself as the others slept, breakfast on my own terms, without awkward small talk. But as I came closer, I saw that not only was someone up, but they’d been outside. There were footsteps leading from a side entrance to the garage, and back. How odd. All the cars were parked out in front of the house, in the open. What reason could anyone have for going into the garage?

But my sweaty top was starting to make me feel cold, now that I wasn’t powering up the hill, and I wanted coffee. I headed back to the kitchen door. Whoever was up would have an explanation.

‘Hello?’ I called quietly as I opened the door, not wanting to wake the others. ‘Only me.’

Someone was sitting at the counter, bent over a mobile. She lifted up her head, and I saw it was Melanie.

‘Hey!’ She gave a smile, her deep peachy dimples coming and going in her cheek. ‘I didn’t think anyone else was up. Have you been out for a run in that snow? You nutter!’

‘It’s gorgeous.’ I stamped the snow off my trainers on the outside mat and then pulled them off, holding them by the laces. ‘What’s the time?’

‘Seven-thirty. I’ve been up for about twenty minutes. It’s bloody ironic – my one chance to get a lie-in without Ben waking me up, and here I am, I can’t sleep!’

‘You’ve been conditioned,’ I said, and she sighed.

‘Too bloody right. Want a tea?’

‘I’d rather have coffee, if there’s one going.’ Too late I remembered. ‘Oh bugger, there’s no coffee is there?’

‘Nope. I’m dying. I’m a coffee-girl too, at home. Always used to be tea at university, but Bill converted me. I’ve tried to drink enough tea to give me the equivalent caffeine but I think my bladder can’t physically take it.’

Oh well. Tea would be hot and wet, at least.

‘I’d love a tea. D’you mind if I just hop in the shower first and change my clothes? I ran in these yesterday too, I probably stink.’

‘No worries. I was making toast as well. I’ll have it ready when you come down.’

When I came downstairs ten minutes later it was to the smell of toast, and the sound of Melanie humming ‘The Wheels on the Bus’.

‘Hey,’ she said as I came into the kitchen, towelling my hair. ‘So there’s Marmite, marmalade or strawberry jam.’

‘No raspberry?’

‘Nope.’

‘Marmite then, please.’

She spread it on and shoved the plate across at me, and then looked surreptitiously down at her phone on the counter top. I took a bite and asked, ‘Still no reception?’

‘No.’ Her polite smile slipped. ‘It’s really getting to me. He’s only just six months, and he’s been a bit unsettled since we started him on solids. I just … I know it’s lame, but I hate being away from him.’

‘I can imagine,’ I said sympathetically, though I couldn’t really. But I could relate to the longing for home, and that must be several times stronger with someone small and helpless waiting for your return. ‘What’s he like?’ I said, trying to cheer her up.

‘Oh, he’s lovely!’ Her smile came back, a bit more convincing this time, and she picked up her phone and began flicking through gallery shots. ‘Look, here’s a photo of him with his first tooth.’

I saw a blurred shot of a moon-faced child with no discernible teeth at all, but she flipped past it looking for something else. We went past one that looked like an explosion in a Coleman’s mustard factory and she grimaced.

‘Oh God, sorry about that one.’

‘What was it?’

‘Ben with a massive poo that went right up to his hair! I took a pic to show Bill at work.’

‘Bill and Ben?’

‘I know,’ she gave a sheepish laugh. ‘We started calling him Ben in my tummy, as a joke, and somehow it stuck. I do feel a bit bad, but I figure, he’s not going to be paired up with his dad very often in life. Oh, look at this one – his first swim!’

This one was clearer – a shocked little face in a bright blue pool, the mouth an outraged red ‘Oh!’ of furious indignity.

‘He looks lovely,’ I said, trying not to sound wistful. God knows, I don’t want a baby, but there’s something about seeing someone else’s happy family unit that feels excluding, even when it’s not meant to be.

‘He is,’ Melanie said, her face soft. ‘I feel very blessed.’ She touched the cross at her neck, almost unconsciously, and then sighed. ‘I just wish there were reception here. I honestly thought I was ready to leave him, but now … two nights is too much. I keep thinking, what if something goes wrong and Bill can’t ring?’

‘He’s got the house phone number though, hasn’t he?’ I took a bite of toast and Marmite.

Melanie nodded. ‘Yes. In fact,’ she looked at the time on her phone again, ‘I said I’d phone him this morning. He was nervous about ringing early in case he woke everyone up. D’you mind if I …?’

‘Not at all,’ I said, and she got up, drained her cup, and put it on the counter. ‘Oh, by the way,’ I suddenly remembered as she headed towards the door, ‘I meant to ask, did you go out to the garage?’

‘No?’ She looked surprised, her voice framing the word as a question. ‘How come? Was it open?’

‘I don’t know, I didn’t try the door. But there were footsteps going out there.’

‘How odd. Wasn’t me.’

‘Bizarre.’ I took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. The footsteps were crisp, so they must have been made sometime
after
the snow had finished falling. ‘You don’t think …’ I said, then stopped.

‘What?’

I hadn’t thought through what I’d been about to say, and now, as I said the words, I felt an odd reluctance to voice them. ‘Well … I assumed it was someone coming from the house to the garage and back. But it could have been the other way round.’

‘What … like someone snooping round? Were there footsteps coming up to the garage?’

‘I didn’t see any. But the garage is so close to the wood, and I don’t think the tracks would show there – the snow’s too patchy and broken up.’

Plus, although I didn’t say it, if there’d been any tracks on the forest path my run had probably just effectively obliterated them.

‘Never mind,’ I said, picking up the tea determinedly. ‘This is silly. It was probably just Flo going out to get something.’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Melanie said.

She gave a shrug and left the room, and a minute later I heard the ‘ching’ of the receiver as she picked up the handset. But instead of the sound of the dial clicking around, I heard ‘ching, ching, ching’ and then a bang as the receiver was slammed down.

‘For crying out loud, the phone line’s down! Honestly, this is the last straw. What if something’s happened to Ben?’

‘Hang on.’ I put my plate in the dishwasher and followed her into the living room. ‘Let me try. Maybe it’s his number.’

‘It’s not his number.’ She handed me the receiver. ‘It’s dead. Listen.’

She was right. There was no dial tone, just an echoing empty line, and a faint sound of clicking.

‘It must be the snow.’ I thought of the branches in the forest, weighed down by their burden. ‘It must have brought down a tree branch and snapped the line. The engineers’ll get it back up I imagine, but—’

‘But
when
?’ Melanie said. Her face was pink and upset and there were tears in her eyes. ‘I didn’t want to make a big deal about this to Clare, but this was my first trip away and to be honest, I’m having a pretty shitty time. I know I’m supposed to be all like “Woo! Night out with the girls!” but I don’t want to do this any more – all this drinking and stupid pissing about. I don’t give a fuck who slept with who. I just want to go home and cuddle Ben. You want to know the real reason I woke up early? Because my tits were rock hard with milk and they were so painful they woke me up leaking all over the fucking bed.’ She was really crying now, her nose running. ‘I had to g-get up and pump into the sink. And now this is the l-last straw, I’ve got n-n-no idea if they’re OK. I don’t want to be here any more.’

I stared at her, biting my lip. Part of me wanted to hug her, the other part of me was recoiling from her tear-stained, snot-dripping face.

‘Hey,’ I said awkwardly. ‘Hey, look … if you’re having a shit time …’

But I stopped. She wasn’t listening. She was staring not at me, but out of the window at the snow-bound forest, turning something over in her mind, breathing slowly as her sobs subsided.

‘Melanie?’ I ventured at last.

She turned to look at me, and wiped her face on her dressing-gown sleeve. ‘I’m going to go,’ she said.

It was so sudden that I didn’t know what to say.

‘Flo will kill me, but I don’t care. Clare won’t mind. I don’t think she gave a toss about having a hen in the first place, it was all Flo’s weird obsession with being the world’s best friend. Do you think I can get my car down the drive?’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it’s only a dusting under the trees, but look, what about Tom? You gave him a lift, didn’t you?’

‘Only from Newcastle.’ She wiped her face again. She looked calmer now her mind was made up. ‘I’m sure Clare or Nina or someone will take him back. It’s not a big deal.’

‘I guess.’ I bit my lip, imagining Flo’s reaction to all this. ‘Look, are you sure you don’t want to give it a bit longer? They’ll get the phone line up soon, I’m sure.’

‘No. I’ve made up my mind, I’m going now. I mean, I’ll wait until Flo gets up, but I’m going up to pack now. Oh! What a relief.’ She was smiling suddenly, her face from cloud to sunshine in just a few moments, the dimples back in her cheeks. ‘Thanks for listening. I’m sorry I lost it a bit, but you’ve really straightened me out. I mean you’re right – if you’re having a shit time, what’s the point of being here? Clare wouldn’t want me to hang around feeling miserable.’

I watched her as she made her way slowly up the stairs, presumably to repack her stuff, and pondered her last words.

What
was
the point of being here? I realised, suddenly, that I hadn’t wanted her to go. Not because I liked her, or would miss her – I didn’t know her well enough for that, though she seemed perfectly nice – but because I’d had some fantasy of my own of escaping. And being one down would make it that much harder – there would be that small amount of extra pressure on the survivors to make up for Melanie’s absence.

And without a car, and without the alibi of a small baby, what reason could I possibly come up with that wouldn’t be construed as sour grapes over James, over the fact that the better woman had won and got my ex-boyfriend for herself?

I thought I had long since stopped giving a fuck what Clare Cavendish thought of me. I realised, as I walked slowly back to the kitchen, that I was wrong.

12

THIS IS HOW
I met Clare. It was the first day at primary school, and I was sitting by myself at a desk and trying not to cry. Everyone else had gone to the school nursery and I hadn’t, and I didn’t know anyone. I was small and skinny with hard little braids that my mother knotted into the side of my scalp ‘to keep off the nits’.

I could read, but I didn’t want anyone to know. My mother had said that it would make me unpopular to look like Little Miss Know-It-All and that the teachers would tell me how to do it properly, not my made-up way.

So I was sitting alone as the other children paired up into tables and chatted away, and then Clare walked in. I had never seen anyone so beautiful. Her hair was long and loose, in defiance of the school rules, and it shone in the sunlight like a Pantene commercial. She looked around the room at the other children, one or two of whom were patting the chair beside them hopefully and saying, ‘Clare! Clare, sit with me!’

And she chose me.

I don’t know if you know what it’s like being chosen by someone like Clare. It’s as though a warm searchlight has picked you out and bathed you in its sunshine. You feel at once exposed, and flattered. Everyone looks at you, and you can see them wondering, why
her
?

Clare sat beside me, and I felt myself transforming from a nobody, into a someone. A someone people might actually want to talk to, be friends with.