Mummy's Little Helper (16 page)

But in the end, events overtook me. Well, not overtook me, exactly, just sidled up alongside me, causing my firm resolution – which was to leave things, at least till after John’s second honeymoon – to veer so spectacularly off the road.

The rest of the week had been uneventful. Abby didn’t mention Mrs Shelley in the café – why would she? She was ten and this was just an old neighbour from her past. She was much more fixated on the here and now of her life, which was falling into a routine which seemed to be at least manageable. I was keeping a particularly close eye on her scalp, of course. I would draw attention to it every time her hand went to her temple, and though she would deal with that by having to perform some other ritual – say, tapping the door frame, or patting the closest light switch – those felt the lesser of two evils and that was good enough for now. There was the constant stress, of course, about having to be near a hot tap and a supply of liquid soap – but with these now being something I expected (and understanding the reasons) I wasn’t fretting about them as much as before. Bridget had also emailed to say they’d set a date for the LAC review, and promised to follow up on a GP visit, so I knew some support would now be forthcoming for Abby. Which was one less thing to feel anxious about too.

Thursday, too, came and went without incident – though also without tadpoles. Kieron had got himself an unexpected gig, which meant some money, and though he told me he’d turn it down, both Lauren and I were adamant he didn’t; it was a kind gesture, and of course Abby would be disappointed, but he had to be practical about things. Lauren was happy to take Abby to the woods, as was I, but when it came to it the rain was hammering down that day anyway, and Abby didn’t seem in the least concerned about forgoing it. ‘I mean, I’ll go if Lauren really, really wants to,’ she’d confided to me when she got in from school. ‘But it’ll be awfully muddy, won’t it?’ She’d wrinkled her nose up delicately. ‘And we might slip over and that wouldn’t be very nice …’

Suppressing a smile at her wonderful talent for understatement, I assured her that Lauren wouldn’t mind. I had half a hunch that it wasn’t just about germs in this case, either. She wanted Kieron there. Which was absolutely fine.

And now it was Sunday again, and we were back at the hospital, and, once again, the mysterious sister was back on my mind. Not that I had any intention of mentioning her. As before my only plan was to deliver Abby safely, let them have forty-five minutes, then take her back home. It was Abby who pulled the lid open on Pandora’s Box this time.

‘Guess who I saw last week?’ she told her mother as I approached, having done the coffee, done the gossip mags and was now fully conversant with which key looks were ‘on-trend’ for the coming summer.

‘Erm …’ said Sarah, who’d seemed in brighter spirits than the last time I’d seen her. I had no idea what was happening with her trial or her medication, and, my fingers already singed, I was not about to ask. ‘Father Christmas?’

‘NO, silly!’

‘The Easter bunny?’

‘Too early!’

‘The Scarlet Pimpernel?’

‘Who’s the Scarlet Pimpernel? I’ve never even heard of the Scarlet Pimpernel.’

‘Because he’s the Scarlet Pimpernel – and he likes to lie low. They seek him here, they seek him there …’

Abby shook her head. ‘Definitely not him, then.’

‘Go on, then,’ said Sarah, grinning. ‘I can’t guess.’

‘Mrs Shelley. When I was working in Casey’s sister’s café with Kieron, on Tuesday. I meant to tell you on the phone, but I forgot.’

The grin vanished. Sarah’s eyes flicked from mine and back to Abby’s. I’d been clutching my carrier bag of magazines so tightly that I could feel the plastic cutting into my fingers. I slid my own gaze to the window, and tried to look as if I was miles away.

‘Did you, now?’ said Sarah. ‘And how is she?’

Abby shrugged. ‘Oh, she’s fine. She said to send her love. I told her you were in hospital having a relapse.’

Sarah didn’t seem to know what to say to that. There was a short but intense silence, which grew more uncomfortable by the second. And spoke volumes. Was almost deafening, in fact. Then Abby spoke again. ‘She goes into Casey’s sister’s café every week, you know. So I told her next time I’m working there I’ll tell her which ward you’re on. I couldn’t remember the name of it, but I’ve written it on my list now, so I don’t forget it for next time. I think she wants to send you a card. Or she might want to come and visit you …’

‘
Visit
me?’ Sarah looked stricken. ‘Oh, I don’t think she’ll want to do that.’

I could feel her eyes on me again now. ‘Oh, I think she would,’ said Abby. ‘I told her you don’t have any visitors except me. So when she next comes in –’

‘Abby, you know, I’m really not sure I’m up to having visitors. Apart from you, of course,’ she added quickly. ‘And Mrs Shelley … well, she’s quite elderly, and it’s such a long way …’

She seemed to think for a moment, clearly feeling harried by Abby’s innocent insistence. ‘Actually, could you do me a favour, poppet, and fill my water jug up for me before you go? You know where the drinking water tap is, don’t you? Or just go and find one of the nurses. They’ll do it …’

‘Okay,’ said Abby, trotting round to the other side of the bed to fetch it. It was three-quarters full, but she didn’t question it. It had probably been sitting there a while, so she would have wanted to change it anyway. I followed Sarah’s eyes as she watched her daughter take the jug away.

She turned straight to me. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I’m really not sure I’m happy about Abby working in your family business.’

‘She’s not
working
at my sister’s place,’ I corrected. ‘She’s just been down there on two occasions with my son. Once to help with a charity event, which, as you know, she really enjoyed. And then to do some colouring and cutting out after school. Because she
asked
if she could. It’s hardly –’

‘Even so, I’d rather she didn’t do it any more.’

And that was the thing, really. If she’d left it at that, then
I’d
have left it too. After all, how could I not have? She’d made a request, and I was happy to comply with it. Well, not happy exactly – because I knew how disappointed Abby would be. But not so unhappy that I’d put myself in a difficult situation with Sarah. Yes I was
in loco parentis
, but I was also a pragmatist. And Sarah was a sick woman. And relations were strained enough already.

But she didn’t leave it. I’d already nodded my acquiescence, but evidently she couldn’t stop herself. ‘And I don’t want to see that Mrs Shelley, either. So if she comes in again and starts asking after me, I’d be grateful if you’d respect my privacy. She’s a nosey old bat and she’s no business talking to Abby. She shouldn’t be listening to anything she says.’

It was probably that – the fact that she’d called her a nosey old bat – that meant I couldn’t stop myself. There was just no call for it. I knew I had to make allowances for the desperate nature of her situation, but there was just no call for it. It was unkind. So before I could stop myself, I spoke.

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t
dream
of doing otherwise. Only she said you had a sister and –’

‘Rubbish!’ Sarah was suddenly totally galvanised. ‘That’s exactly what I mean. She’s talking
rubbish
!’

I noticed her hands had begun to shake and could see that Abby was returning. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘The last thing I want to do is upset you. Just forget I ever said that. This is really none of my business. There are clearly things I don’t know here, and it’s not for me to get involved … just forget it, okay? Just forget it.’

Of course, forgetting it, for me, was an entirely different matter. With the atmosphere now as thick as Mike’s legendary beef gravy, I wanted nothing more than to bundle Abby back out and away from the hospital as quickly as I could. Abby herself, thankfully, was oblivious, and though I had to pull her up half a dozen times about her hair on the journey, by the time we’d hit the motorway she’d dropped off to sleep, leaving me with my maelstrom of thoughts.

I had clearly touched a nerve, and a particularly raw one, and, once again, I couldn’t help but speculate about the nature of the circumstances that had caused such a reaction at the mention of the sister’s name. But along with the musing there was an undercurrent tugging beneath the surface; I had overstepped the mark again, wellied in where I shouldn’t. And, as soon as I was able, I would have to tell John.

But in the meantime I knew that the best thing I could do was to try to put the whole thing out of my mind.

Which was easier said than done. When I got home and confessed to Mike, he simply rolled his eyes and called me a klutz (for which I was grateful – it helped put it in perspective, which was probably what I needed), but I still had the small matter of Abby. Donna had agreed she could go in with Kieron again after school on the Tuesday, and that if she wanted to she could help her create a new weekly special for the children’s menu – about which Abby had been thinking from the moment she’d been told.

She’d been poring over my recipe books all week and when she came home from school on Monday she even sat down and compiled an inventory of E numbers that she needed to check wouldn’t be in any of the ingredients. I did find myself smiling – a career in health and safety wouldn’t be a bad choice for her – but at the same time I was still agonising about what to say to her. I clearly couldn’t let her go, even though part of me was saying ‘sod it’, but I also knew it wouldn’t be helpful to tell her why. A white lie, I decided. I would just tell her something had come up, last minute. I didn’t know what, yet, but I knew I’d come up with something. And once I’d done that I’d already planned how I’d distract her. I’d whisk her round to Riley’s so we could sit down and thrash out the details of Jackson’s – and her – upcoming party.

I sighed to myself as I packed Abby off to school on Tuesday morning, and felt terrible when she told me how excited she was about Kieron picking her up to ‘go to work’. It didn’t matter how much I told myself it wasn’t the end of the world; I had the feeling that there was a cloud permanently sitting on my shoulder. No, I didn’t make Mrs Shelley walk into the café, did I? And, no, I didn’t ask her to recognise Abby, did I? And, no, I didn’t ask Abby to bring it up with Sarah, either. Everything that had happened was outside of my control. All I did was mention something that Sarah
already knew
, which was hardly a criminal offence. But no matter how much I told myself I’d really done nothing wrong, I still felt an overriding need to ‘confess’. But with John not back till the weekend I would have to wait. It was going to feel like a long, stressful week.

The phone rang just as I was pulling a pair of sponge cakes from the oven. It was just before lunchtime, and I’d made two large rectangular slabs, which were going to provide the raw materials to make Jupiter, Pontypandy fire service’s fire engine. Jackson was too small to have much input on party theming, but Levi was clear – Fireman Sam would be the favourite, which was absolutely fine by me and Riley. Fine by Riley, because she was very creative – definitely the artist in the family – and fine by me because I was an old hand at fire engines: I’d already made a Fireman Sam birthday cake. Kieron had had one for his third birthday.

I was in a sentimental mood that morning, busy counting my blessings, thinking how lucky I was to be so involved in my children’s lives, to be counted on, included, so immersed in my grandchildren. I was one lucky nanna, and I knew it. I was also otherwise engaged, transferring the heavy tins from oven to cooling racks, so by the time I’d whipped my oven gloves off and run into the hall the answerphone had already kicked in.

‘Sorry,’ I heard Mike’s posh telephone voice telling the caller. ‘We can’t get to the phone at the moment, so please –’

I snatched the phone up. ‘Hello?’

‘Ah, Casey,’ a voice said. A voice I knew very well.

‘John? Oh! What are you doing calling me? Aren’t you still on holiday?’

‘I am,’ he said, slowly. ‘In theory.’

There was no rancour in his tone, but I didn’t miss his heavy sigh. I felt my stomach knot, and waited for whatever bad thing he was going to say. He got straight to the point. And I wasn’t wrong about it being a bad thing. ‘Casey, we’ve got something of a situation.’

I felt a massive rush of guilt. So he’d been called while on his holiday. So whatever it was, it must be pretty serious.

‘What sort of situation?’ I asked him.

‘A situation involving you. Look – God, I feel dreadful having to talk to you about this over the phone Casey, believe me –’

‘Not as dreadful as I feel.’

He sighed again. ‘Look, there’s no point me trying to sugar this pill for you. And I wouldn’t insult your intelligence by trying to do so in any case. You know how things work. There’s been a complaint made against you, Casey. An official complaint, in writing, to Bridget – well, to social services, more accurately – by Abby’s mother.’

I felt cold. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, and I felt stunned, out of balance. ‘For what?’ My mouth had gone dry.

‘Brace yourself. Three things.’

‘Three? God, there’s a
list
?’

‘I’m afraid so. As I said, brace yourself. First, meddling in her private business. Apparently – and you can take my verbal quote marks as read, Casey, you know that – you’ve been grilling the hospital staff for information about her medical condition –’

I wanted to roar my denial at John, but reined myself in.
Just hear the charges first, Casey
. I licked my parched lips. ‘And?’

‘Causing her daughter psychological damage – causing all these “sudden” OCD symptoms. She makes mention of a bald patch … We’ll come back to that …’

‘And?’

‘And, let me see. Yes – “using her daughter – a minor – as cheap labour in the family business”.’

Now I could barely contain myself. Yet I was so appalled that I didn’t know where to start.

‘Casey?’ John said. ‘Casey, you still there?’