31. Norah

BEFORE

It had seemed like such a promising day. They'd trooped downstairs to find that Miss Fairchild had vanished into thin air. It was like a miracle. Norah felt like Kevin from Home Alone. As they dressed for school, Norah was already fantasizing about how life might be if it was just the three of them. She would take the master bedroom, she told her sisters. She was even prepared to go out and get a job.

Jessica, of course, was the one who warned her not to get too far ahead of herself. It was good advice, as it turned out, because by the time they got home from school that afternoon, not only was Miss Fairchild back, but there was someone with her.

"Girls," Miss Fairchild called from the living room. "Can you come in here, please?"

In many ways, it was your classic déjà vu. In other ways, not so much. Because there were a few distinct differences from the other times. For one, instead of sitting in the armchair, Miss Fairchild sat cross-legged on the floor. For another, where the other babies had been a year at most, this child was a fully-fledged toddler with masses of blond hair and a mouth full of tiny white teeth.

"There's someone I want you to meet." Miss Fairchild beamed at them, showing no evidence of their unpleasant interaction the evening before. "This is Amy."

They all stared at the child. Amy blinked back at them, looking as shocked and confused as they were. She held a worn-looking Barbie doll in one hand and with the other clutched a stuffed bear to her chest.

"Amy is nearly two," Miss Fairchild said, her smile growing. "And here's the best bit. Amy isn't a respite baby. I'm adopting her!"

She said it with such delight it was hard to believe she was the same woman who'd been terrorizing them for months. Who just last night had screamed obscenities at them while trying to force her way into their bedroom.

Alicia appeared as disturbed as Norah felt. "But… where are her parents?"

"Her birth parents didn't want her." Miss Fairchild's made an expression of disgust. It was more familiar than the grotesque smile, at least. "Some people only want perfect children."

Norah looked at Amy again, clasping her teddy. She didn't have crossed eyes, or insect bites, or obvious special needs. As far as babies went, she looked pretty perfect.

"Amy was born with a slight defect," Miss Fairchild said, answering their unspoken question. "It's ridiculous really; it's not anything anyone would notice."

She removed one of Amy's socks, and the girls leaned forward. The girl's little foot was pink and plump: perfect apart from the tiny extra pinkie toe nestled against the others.

"Her parents didn't want her because she has an extra toe?" Norah said.

"Some people are so busy chasing perfection they don't appreciate the wonders right in front of them," Miss Fairchild replied. "Can you imagine? Having a child this beautiful and not appreciating her?" She shook her head and tutted. "Some people don't deserve children, they really don't."

Miss Fairchild didn't let Amy out of her sight. During the day, she carried her around in a wrap on her chest, and if she had any errands to run, she sent the girls out so she didn't have to leave Amy for a single second. At night, Amy slept in her room, and Miss Fairchild got up to settle her if she woke.

"I am the only one who's allowed to care for her," she said, if she ever caught them interacting with Amy. "It's important for bonding. So she knows I'm her mother."

There was rarely a moment when Miss Fairchild wasn't singing or bouncing Amy. Norah assumed that eventually she would tire of round-the-clock caring the way she had with the other babies, but weeks went by and Miss Fairchild remained devoted. It was wonderful as far as Norah and Alicia were concerned, because it meant she left them alone. It was as close to Norah's fantasy of being Kevin from Home Alone as she could have realistically hoped for. But Jessica didn't seem to share Norah and Alicia's enthusiasm for the new Miss Fairchild.

"I'm happy she's taking such good care of Amy," she would say when her sisters asked if she was all right. "It makes life easier for us!"

But her smile didn't reach her eyes. It reminded Norah that, unlike she and Alicia, who felt nothing but hatred for Miss Fairchild, Jessica's feelings for their foster mother were complicated.

A few times, Norah caught Jessica staring as Miss Fairchild played with Amy. The look on Jessica's face worried her. There was something possessive about it. If Jessica noticed Norah watching her, she rolled her eyes and made a joke of it, which worried Norah more. Jessica had never been much of a joker.

"Happy birthday, Amy!" Miss Fairchild cried, cracking a party popper and cheering like a deranged lunatic.

Norah stood by the pool, wearing a party hat, eating a cold sausage roll and feeling significantly better about the fact that she'd never had a party of her own. Alicia, by the look of her, was equally appalled.

The party, it had to be said, was a fizzer. Amy appeared to agree. They'd played party games that Amy was too young for, opened gifts that she didn't seem interested in. The only part that had been somewhat enjoyable was the pi?ata—enjoyable for Norah, because she'd been allowed to smash it with the broom until it broke into a million pieces.

Now they stood around wondering what to do next.

A few days earlier, when they'd come downstairs for breakfast, Miss Fairchild had been bent over the sewing machine surrounded by pink fabric.

"What's going on?" Jessica asked, taking it all in.

"It's Amy's birthday on Friday," Miss Fairchild said cheerily. "She'll be two. We're having a party."

Norah, who was loath to show enthusiasm for anything Miss Fairchild did, couldn't deny she'd felt a pulse of excitement. A party. Apart from the silent dance party that Alicia had thrown her, it would be the first party she'd ever attended. Or at least the first one she remembered attending.

"Will there be cake?" she asked.

"Of course!" Miss Fairchild beamed. "Only the best for my darling girl."

Despite Miss Fairchild's efforts, though, Amy looked miserable. She often did, now that Norah thought about it. She wondered suddenly if the point of this party had been to lift the child's spirits.

"Why isn't she having fun?" Miss Fairchild said eventually, with a hint of irritation.

Several possible reasons sprang to mind for Norah—the most obvious being the proximity of Miss Fairchild, and her maniacal party popping. Beyond that, there was the fact that, bizarrely, a Barbie had been shoved into her birthday cake, and that she'd been forced to wear a pink dress matching the one Miss Fairchild was wearing.

"Maybe's she's bored?" Norah suggested.

"Bored?" Miss Fairchild seemed perplexed by the idea. "Well… what shall we do?"

Norah shrugged. "Pony rides?"

She didn't expect Miss Fairchild to agree, so she was shocked when their foster mother glanced down the hill toward the stable, then nodded at Norah.

Wow. She must be desperate, Norah thought.

It took Norah only a couple of minutes to steal down to the stables. Trying to get Bertha back up the hill took longer.

"Ta-da!" Norah announced breathlessly when she finally got the stubborn horse to the top.

Amy pointed a chubby finger at Bertha. "Horsey!"

Her expression was cautious, well short of a smile, but Miss Fairchild's face lit up. She even shot Norah a grateful look.

For the next half hour, Amy sat on Bertha's back while Miss Fairchild led the pony in circles around the pool, and Norah, Alicia, and Jessica demolished the sausage rolls. Amy was still perched on Bertha when Norah noticed the figure loping up the hill. He wore a baseball cap and had a funny way of walking, more of a shuffle really, his feet barely leaving the ground.

Dirk came to a stop several meters away, and assessed the scene: Amy on Bertha, the party decorations.

"Shit," Norah said.

Alicia and Jessica looked at her, and she gestured at Dirk. They both blanched.

Norah gave the stable hand a beseeching look.

He rolled his eyes. "Bring her back when you're done," he said, and turned and walked back down the hill. Miss Fairchild was so busy with Amy that she missed the whole thing.

"Look. She's asleep."

It was one of the rare moments they'd been left alone with Amy. A few minutes earlier, Amy had been still picking at her dinner when Miss Fairchild had taken advantage of the distraction to run upstairs and run the bath. They'd just finished dinner, and were doing the dishes when Jessica noticed that Amy had fallen asleep in her high chair.

"Aw," Alicia said. "She is pretty adorable."

"I think she's snoring," Norah said.

They watched her a moment, her body lolling forward, her little cheek squashed against the tray. They knew not to pick her up—Miss Fairchild could be so weird about that—but Jessica and Alicia edged forward to take a closer look.

They were inches away when Amy sat up, grinned, and said, "Boo!"

Jessica and Alicia screamed.

"You little trickster!" Jessica cried.

Amy squealed in delight, then immediately closed her eyes and lay down again. Even Norah could agree, albeit begrudgingly, that was pretty cute.

"All right," Jessica said, with a wink at the others, "she's asleep. Better pick her up and take her to bed."

"Boo!" Amy cried, sitting up again. She lifted her arms up, then opened them wide like a starburst.

This time, when they all squealed, Amy giggled. Giggled. It was so unexpected after months of sadness that they stood still for a moment, appreciating it.

Amy rested her head on the tray again, still giggling.

"You pick her up, Norah," Jessica said.

"Why? She's not asleep. She's laughing." But Norah squatted down beside the high chair, so her face was right up next to Amy's. When Amy opened her eyes, Norah beat her to it. "Boo!"

Amy's laugh reverberated through the house. It sounded like wind chimes. Like joy.

"Right then," Miss Fairchild said, entering the room like a rain cloud. "Bath time." With no regard for the fun they'd been having, she scooped Amy up and carried her away, despite the child's protests. No wonder the kid was always so sad.

When she was gone, the three sisters remained in the kitchen for ages, trying to hold on to the moment. But without Amy, it almost felt as though it had never happened. As though it had been just a figment of their imagination.