Chapter 40

Nicky called me just after ten.

‘She's gone to bed. Still on French time.'

‘How was it?'

She sighed. ‘I hid in the kitchen sorting dinner while Theo made polite conversation. We had about an hour around the dinner table, her asking tentative questions about my job, Theo's family. You and the kids. Me replying as neutrally as possible. I'm trying to pretend she doesn't have the power to upset me, but at the same time I still want her buried in guilt.'

‘What are her plans for tomorrow?'

‘I'm pretty sure she's hoping to see her grandchildren. No mention of Dad.'

‘Ugh. Isla could really do without more randomers dropping into her life. Toby, Silva and Baby Brayden are enough for one summer.'

There was a brief pause. ‘Maybe it wouldn't be terrible for the kids to meet her properly. Mum is great with children.'

‘Yeah. Especially seeing as Dad might not be around so much.'

‘What?'

We talked until the necessary processing had deteriorated into gratuitous grumbling. I was determined not to allow Mum's disruption to negatively impact my new sensible bedtime routine, but there wasn't a lot I could do about the thoughts careening about my head for most of the night, making sleep seem like a cruel joke.

Thursday morning, I stuck on my best calm-capable-mum persona, aware that I sounded like an actor in a cheesy advert as I bundled the kids off to school. I smiled robotically through three post-birth video calls with previous private clients, and had time to set up the online bookings for my autumn classes and update the website. All while ignoring the four calls and even more messages buzzing through from a new, unknown number, having glimpsed one message as starting, ‘Darling daughter, I am devastated…' before turning my phone screen down.

Nicky called while I was waiting to pick Isla and Finn up from their after-school football club.

‘Your turn,' she said, with all the authority of an older sister. ‘Stop dodging her calls.'

‘You're working today. It's no one's turn.'

‘She came to the surgery and introduced herself to Martha!'

‘Yuck.' Martha was one of the receptionists.

‘Precisely. She obviously knew nothing, so made Mum a cup of tea and invited her into the staffroom. She's been hanging around for nearly three hours waiting for me to take a break. I had to ask Nadia to bring my matcha tea into my room. My step count is fifty-seven, and half of those were scuttling to the patient toilets so she didn't spot me in the corridor.'

‘Why didn't she just come here?'

‘She's waiting for after school, banking on you not making a scene in front of the kids.'

‘I really can't be doing with this today.'

‘Libby, my last patient projectile-vomited in my hair. It's your turn. Call her.'

I didn't call, but I did read the messages and reply that we'd be home at five. She'd grind me down at some point, so might as well get it over with.

‘Hey, I have some exciting news,' I said, once the three of us were walking home along the footpath.

‘Did you kiss that man again?' Isla asked.

‘Ew!' Finn scowled as I reminded her that there'd been no kissing.

‘Is our new baby sister born? Oh, did Toby fix the scary hole in the ceiling where the monsters hide?'

‘What hole? And no, none of those things. Your Grandma Helen is coming to see you.'

‘The one who sends me pictures on my birthday sometimes?' Isla asked, dark eyebrows shooting up her little forehead. ‘Did she come in a boat?'

‘How is she going to sail a boat to Bigley?' Finn scoffed. ‘Down the ditch?'

‘She could have put it on the back of a lorry.' Isla pouted. ‘Or had one of those boats with wheels like in your book.'

‘She doesn't work on the boat any more, so she came on a train and in a taxi,' I said, before Finn could pour further scorn on his sister's suggestions.

‘Did she bring us presents?' he asked instead.

‘I don't know. But it would be rude to ask, wouldn't it?'

‘Zak and Bert's grandparents give them presents all the time. A postcard doesn't count, so she might have all my birthday presents saved up.'

‘I'm not sure. There wasn't a lot of room on the boat to store presents.'

‘Well, I think she owes me at least a small one.'

I corrected his rather rude attitude, even as my heart believed that Mum owed my children far more than a few presents.

When we walked up the drive, our visitor was already waiting at the front door, fiddling with the hem of her patterned shirt.

‘Did you bring our birthday presents?' Isla asked, stopping a metre or so in front of her grandma, arms folded across her muddy football top.

‘Um…' Mum flashed a panicked glance at me. ‘Your birthday is in February.'

‘Yes. February the tenth. But you didn't give me a present yet.'

‘Isla.' I took her hand and moved forwards, key ready to open the door. ‘We talked about that. We didn't send Grandma a present, either.'

‘Did we send her a card?' she asked as Mum stepped back so we could go inside without having to squeeze past.

She'd been back for twenty-four hours, and I still hadn't touched her.

‘No. We didn't know where the boat would be that day.'

‘Post people can't deliver a letter to a boat.' Finn bumped against Isla as they took their shoes off in the pristine hallway. ‘What are they going to do – swim out to find it?'

‘They could drive a postman boat!' Isla retorted. ‘Why do you think everything I say is wrong? And stop bumping me. That hurt from where I fell on the grass!'

Oh dear. The tension was already rising. Isla's cheeks had flushed, and her fluttering eyelids were sending out SOS in Morse code. Having welcomed potential disaster into my home, the only way I could defuse it was to behave as if everything were perfectly lovely and I couldn't be happier.

‘Why don't you show Grandma your Lego while I fetch drinks and a snack?' I said, purposefully directing them to the recently tidied living room, rather than the still shambolic kitchen.

‘I'll help,' Mum offered.

‘No. Thank you.' If I smiled any harder, my face would crack.

For the next hour I sat simmering in an armchair while Mum worked her magic with my children. Alongside the games and genuine interest in Finn and Isla's lives, she told vibrant stories about fascinating faraway places and interesting encounters with all sorts of people and strange animals.

It was captivating and infuriating at the same time. Seeing what my children had missed out on, while unable to resist enjoying at least something of their delight at experiencing it now.

‘We need to get on with dinner,' I said, eventually. ‘School tomorrow and we have a schedule to stick to.'

‘Mu-u-u-um,' Finn whined. ‘Surely we can forget about the chart for one night?'

‘Remember what happened last time you tried that?' I asked. ‘The Roman picnic?'

‘Are you staying for dinner?' Isla asked Mum.

‘I'm sure she's very busy. Maybe another time.' I stood up, making it clear that this wasn't up for debate.

‘Oh.' Mum was fiddling with her shirt again. ‘I thought… well. Nicola said I could only stay at hers for one night.'

‘Haven't you found anywhere else?' Bigley was a small village, but there were a few B Bs in the area, and, failing that, Sherwood Forest had caravan parks. Hardly any worse than a sailing boat.

‘I just assumed… I mean…'

I turned to Finn and Isla. ‘Toby's working in the garden. Can you go and ask him if he wants any dinner, please?'

‘Isla's turn,' Finn said automatically.

‘I asked both of you to go. Now, please.'

I waited until they'd grumbled their way down the hallway, then turned back to Mum.

‘You seriously assumed you were staying here?'

Mum fiddled with a strand of hair, a gesture Nicky always did on the rare occasion she felt nervous. ‘Well… I hoped you wouldn't mind.'

‘For how long? Are you going to ping-pong between me and Nicky until you decide to run off again?'

‘It's hardly outlandish, staying with your children when you come to visit.'

‘Not for people who actually have a relationship with their children, no.'

‘Darling, I have apologised and explained. I'm here now, please don't make either of us suffer any more than we have to.' Mum had switched to her ‘placating an angry child' face. I wanted to slap it off.

‘Where did you intend to sleep?'

‘I'm sure you can squeeze me in somewhere. I'm not fussy.'

I thought about it, genuinely. I couldn't let my own mother sleep on my knackered sofa. That would mean sacrificing my bed, while I decamped to here, or on cushions on Isla's floor. I imagined her making the kids breakfast while I took my time in the shower. Even walking them to school so I could go for a run or start work on the kitchen.

And then I pictured how every one of those moments would be tainted with my anger, hurt and confusion. I'd spent so long feeling mad at Brayden, frustrated and ashamed of myself. Fretting about Isla. Rushing about trying to look after people who, with a bit of help, were far better off taking care of themselves.

I was getting my life together, at last.

My house was finally becoming a sanctuary, a place where I felt at peace.

For my and the children's sake I would try to find some measure of healing with my mum. I would work towards forgiving her, and give her the opportunity to finally forgive me.

But I would do this at my pace, not hers.

‘I'm sorry,' I said. And I meant it. ‘I'm not ready for that. You're welcome to visit for Sunday lunch, if you like.'

‘Thank you,' she said, after a stiff silence. ‘I appreciate the invitation.'

‘I'll ask Nicky and Theo. See if his family want to come, too.'

‘Can I bring anything?' Mum said as I walked them to the door.

I shrugged. ‘Isla wasn't joking about the birthday present.'