Prologue

‘Where’s your sock?’

Marnie looked down at the little girl who, as ever, had rushed out of the school gates, keen to be free of the building that held her prisoner between eight fifteen and three fifteen each weekday, with an hour off at lunchtime for good behaviour. Not that her behaviour was particularly good, if Marnie were to believe what was written in the end-of-term reports or the snippets of tight-lipped disapproval that were traded on parents’ evening.

‘Disruptive!’ the teacher had called her.

‘Enthusiastic,’ Marnie had countered.

‘Noisy!’ was another one.

‘Confident?’ Marnie preferred.

‘Always asking questions ...’ The woman had spoken with a sigh.

‘And how very fortunate are you to have such an enquiring young mind among so many dumdums ...’ Marnie would never back down in defence of the child, who had experienced more than most. Marnie was her champion, her flag bearer, her support system and the one who would love her till her last breath on earth.

The teacher had stared at her with a look of resignation. As if she understood that there was no force more powerful than a besotted matriarch with a fearless mouth.

She smiled at the haphazard jumble that gambolled towards her; sweater in her hand, one frayed sleeve trailing on the floor, the book bag open with loose sheets of paper threatening to fly away at any moment. Shoulder-length dark, dark hair that was partly over her pretty face, and a healthy splatter of whatever red stuff she’d had for lunch on the front of her white polo shirt.

This was Edith-Madeleine, aged seven, named after both of her great-grandmas, but known simply as Edith. Edith was the child who would fall off the wall, tumble into a pond, spill her drink, drop her ice cream, get her clothing snagged in a bush, and drop or slop whatever she was carrying. She was also loud – a glorious bundle of infectious energy.

‘I’ve still got one sock!’ Edith beamed as if this was compensation enough, lifting her foot to show that, yes, there was one slightly grubby knee-high sock slouched down around her ankle.

‘Fancy-pants houses!’ she shouted, changing the topic entirely, and pointed at the restored Georgian splendour of a row of terraced properties that were close to her primary school.

It was another world, one of high-end opulence – neat topiary set in square slate planters, glossy front doors, polished brass steps and an abundance of ungraffitied red brick. Large sash windows allowed tempting glimpses of oversized lamps, occasional tables, wide squidgy sofas and daring art. A fancy-pants world indeed, and one that Edith liked to point out as they walked past. It was a part of their walking home ritual that never failed to amuse them both.

Beneath Marnie’s laughter, however, was the tremble of recognition, aware as she was that this glimpse into a life beyond their means had the power to unsettle as well as amuse. It could place spikes among the soft acceptance of life. It could sow a seed of discontent that was hard to uproot. A bit like looking at what you might have won in a game show before it was whipped out of sight. If only they had been luckier ... got the answer right, or – as was the case with the upmarket houses they peered into – been born into a family like that. Marnie understood that dissatisfaction with your lot in life could be the most destabilising thing of all. Far better, in her opinion, to live contentedly with all that was familiar.

She chuckled. ‘Yes, now, back to your missing sock. I can see you’ve still got one, darling, but what I’m more concerned about is the foot without a sock – the sock that’s missing.’

‘Oh!’ She watched the little girl’s expression of surprise, as if genuinely not understanding which sock they were referring to. ‘I had to use it for something.’

‘Right.’ Marnie opened her hand as she turned to walk away, knowing that the child would slip her hand into hers, just as she had since that very first day of school nearly two years ago now. The time had flown and yet not a day passed when she didn’t thank her lucky stars and all of heaven and earth for the chance to mother this amazing tiny human who was sunshine itself. A second chance, almost, and one she had never expected. Marnie braced herself for what came next – usually a convoluted, unimaginable story to explain a situation.

Edith did not disappoint. Skipping now, she pulled Marnie’s arm up and down as they made their way along the uneven grey pavement.

‘I found a mouse.’ Edith looked up and grinned, little animal lover that she was.

‘How exciting.’ Marnie did her best to hide the shiver of revulsion at the thought of the tail on such a creature. She’d never been too good with tails, or anything that scampered, preferring the lumbering gait of a big old dog like Frank, who had been her childhood love. He had been as stinky as he was ungainly, but how she had loved him.

‘Well, I didn’t find it, Travis found it.’

‘And he told you where it was?’ As was her habit, Marnie tried to jump ahead.

‘Yes, but it was dead.’

It was a fascination how the child’s face could go from triumphant to devastated in such a short time.

‘Oh, well, that’s very sad.’ She squeezed Edith’s sticky little hand.

‘Anyway, I told Travis we should give it a fumeral.’

Marnie suppressed her laughter. It was close enough, and who knows how long the stinky little thing had been dead for. Maybe fumeral was actually very appropriate.

‘That was a great idea.’

‘We were going to tell Mr Lawal, but Travis said he might not let us bury her on school property.’

Her . . . ? All right, then.

‘Travis is smart.’ Smarter, Marnie hoped, than his dad, Travis Senior, who was currently serving an eight-year stretch for conspiracy to commit fraud. His mother lived three floors below them in the flats. A nice lady who looked far, far older than her years. Not that stories like hers, like theirs, were unusual in their little slice of East London – far from it.

‘We named her Minty and found a place to bury her by the football posts. And then’ – Edith swallowed, catching her breath; she did this sometimes, spoke so quickly that she ran out of steam – ‘I said we couldn’t just put Minty in the dirt! We needed something to wrap her in.’

‘Ah!’ Marnie could see where this was going.

‘So I took my sock off and she fitted right into the foot bit like it was a little mouse pocket! And then we dug a hole and put her in it, and only Travis and I know where Minty is buried and I might visit her sometimes.’

‘Well, you can’t say you didn’t do your best by her at the end.’

Edith nodded. ‘We sang a little song.’

‘Oh, you did? What did you sing?’ She was curious.

‘We were going to sing a hymn, but we didn’t know any, so we sang that song ... erm, I think it’s The Beatles? The one about my troubles being far away. But it made me a bit sad because Minty’s troubles weren’t that far away, because she died ...’ Edith sang the lines, right there in the street – suddenly, loudly, tunelessly and with gusto.

It made Marnie’s heart swell.

‘Well, that was lovely.’ She knew her husband, Doug, would be delighted that Edith had chosen a song from one of his favourite bands. ‘I’m sure Minty would have loved her send-off.’ She couldn’t wait to tell him all about it when he got in from work.

‘What’s for tea?’

And just like that, the subject was changed and Edith was thinking about grub.

‘Macaroni cheese.’

‘Yes!’ Edith did a little hop with pure delight and it warmed Marnie’s heart. This was the child’s nature: sweet, excited, and happy with whatever fell into her lap. The fact they’d had macaroni cheese for the previous two nights, as it was cheaper and easier to make a big old trayful and eat it till it had gone, was neither here nor there.

‘Have you got any homework?’

‘Nope. Just reading.’

It delighted Marnie how Edith so loved books that compulsory school reading didn’t feel like homework at all but was simply one of her joys.

‘I think it’s Pop’s turn to listen.’

‘But he always falls asleep before I’ve finished!’

Marnie laughed at this truth. ‘He works hard up the market, baby girl, and when he sits down at the end of the day, it’s like his body switches off so he can get up early and go do it all again tomorrow.’ She hated that this was his routine, wishing for him – wishing for them both – that things might get easier as they aged. Not that they were ancient, far from it, but she noticed them both slowing down a little, with a reluctance in her bones to rise on a cold day or to tackle steps at speed.

‘Can I go to work with him at the weekend? I can help!’

‘I’m sure he’d love that. Have you been practising your calls?’

‘I have.’ She watched as Edith took a deep breath. ‘Get your pots and pans here! Your buckets, your bowls, your drainers, your tea towels, your pegs! Come on, lay-dees!’

Marnie doubled over with laughter, unable to contain herself as the child did her best to imitate the male voice that called this very patter to the crowds.

‘Did I do it good?’

‘You did it very good,’ she had to admit. ‘Reckon you’ll do Dougie out of a job at this rate!’

‘He could have a rest then.’

The sweet sincerity of her words was as touching as it was kind.

‘Yes, he could, my lovely one. Yes, he could.’

‘Afternoon, Marn!’ Mrs Nelson, in her familiar wrap-around pinny, called from the doorway of her flat as she tottered along the path with a bulging bin bag in her hand. Marnie noticed how in recent years the elderly woman had grown a little unsteady on her feet.

‘Afternoon, Mrs Nelson. Do you want me to take that out for you?’ It wasn’t far to the communal bin store, but if it saved the old lady a job ...

‘No, you’re all right, love. It’s the only exercise I get nowadays!’

Marnie Woods had lived on the Brenton Park estate since she was a child, taking over the lease from her mother when she died almost twenty years ago now. The casual observer might see the grime, the grotty communal walkways, the urine-scented lifts, the graffiti, the large dumpster from which garbage overspilled, the abandoned rusting cars and vans, the kids clustering in the foot of stairwells smoking pungent weed, and the loud, loud fights conducted in several languages that were the inevitable consequence of living in such close proximity, the uneven paving stones, and the clots of dog shit peppering the thin grass wherever it sprouted. But Marnie knew better than to be fooled by such aesthetics.

She more than understood that what the untrained eye did not see was what made the place remarkable: the kindness of neighbours, the strong bond of those who had grown up there and the sense of pride that, when the chips were down, they rallied together. All anyone had to do was ask that young woman on the fourteenth floor whose baby son was proper poorly, something to do with his liver, just how their community worked. The Residents’ Committee had figured out that if each flat gave a couple of quid, the little one could have his mum on hand for gruelling treatments, and they could travel by cab. Nearly everyone had given and it had been perfect. The woman and her family, having only arrived on the estate eighteen months ago, had felt the arms of her neighbours around her. It didn’t change the bowed stance of deep worry that aged her, nor the blank-eyed stare of impotence that she wore as she walked to the shops or took the older kids to school, but Marnie hoped, in time, it might act as a balm of sorts. To know that they were thinking of her. To know they had her back.

‘Where’s your sock, Edith?’ the old lady hollered as she held the dripping bag at arm’s length.

‘Oh, me and Travis had to bury Minty, who died today. We put her in my sock and dug a hole by the goalpost on the playing field. But that’s a secret, Mrs Nelson. We don’t want anyone else to know in case they dig her up.’

‘Sweet Jesus! Who’d dig her up?’ Mrs Nelson shook her head at the horror of the idea. ‘Anyway, I’m sorry for your loss and may she rest in peace. I’m assuming she was a creature small enough to fit in a sock?’

‘She was a mouse, Mrs Nelson. At least, we think she was a mouse. She’d gone a bit flat and a bit ... dusty.’ Edith wrinkled her nose.

‘Right! Well, that’s enough detail for us all. Let’s get you home!’ Marnie pulled a face at her neighbour, who laughed.

‘We’re having macaroni cheese!’ The child danced on the spot.

‘Good for you! Reckon I’ll be skipping supper tonight. I’ve a head full of images of Minty that are enough to put me off eating for life!’

‘Sorry about that, Mrs Nelson.’ Marnie was sincere.

‘No, don’t be sorry. I could do with losing a few pounds.’ She patted her ample tum.

‘Only on your body and your wobbly neck thing, Mrs Nelson.’ Edith patted her own chin. ‘Not on your legs! Your legs are like little sticks!’ Edith offered the compliment that was anything but.

‘Mrs Nelson, I ...’ Marnie felt her face turn puce as she searched for the right words.

‘What is it they say, Marn? Out of the mouths of babes ...’ Mrs Nelson suppressed a laugh.

‘Something like that.’ She smiled at the old woman who trundled to the bins. Marnie couldn’t wait for Doug to get home. He was going to howl at this.

‘Do you think Minty is in heaven?’ This was quite a standard conversation twist for Edith; the verbal darting left and right, up and down.

‘Well ...’ Marnie always trod carefully, not wanting to destroy any hope that the little girl might carry, but also unable to lie outright. ‘I think the truthful answer is that I don’t know. And I think what counts is that you gave her a lovely funeral, which was a very kind way to say goodbye to her.’

‘But do you think she’s in heaven?’

‘What do you mean by heaven? What do you think it is?’ Marnie stalled.

‘Mouse heaven! Where there’s all the cheese they can eat and tiny mouse cafés and little mouse swimming pools and mouse sweetie shops and mouse hotels and mouse motorways where they drive tiny cars to go to mouse cinemas, and mouse chip shops and mouse pubs ...’

She got the idea. This too was a familiar topic for Edith: what happened when people died. Where did they go? Where did they live if they didn’t live with you anymore ...? All pieces of the puzzle the child was trying to figure out.

‘I think you have a wonderful imagination! And how great to think of Minty in her tiny car, pootling up and down the motorway to visit swimming pools and cinemas.’

Edith wasn’t done. ‘I think cat heaven – where there are cat beauty parlours and cat shopping malls and cat beaches and cat sunglasses shops and cat restaurants – would be mouse hell, because if Minty turned up there by mistake, she’d just be a snack, wouldn’t she?’

‘I guess she would!’ Marnie chuckled. ‘You amaze me, Edith Woods. You’re quite right, you know; one person’s heaven could be another person’s hell, and that’s very smart.’

‘Like Pop with prawns.’

Marnie laughed harder and squeezed her hand. Her beloved girl. It was a fact in their home that she and Edith loved a treat of a prawn cocktail or a prawn sandwich, but her husband found them to be slug-like and would heave at the sight of them.

‘Yes, like Pop and prawns.’

The beep of a horn was loud and drew their attention.

Marnie smiled at the sight of the battered blue van pulling alongside them as Dougie wound down his window. She was always pleased to see the man she so loved, who now winked at her. And still, after all these years, his flirting fired a spark inside her.

Edith shook her hand free and ran to the van, poking her head through the window to give her pop a big kiss on the cheek.

He beamed. ‘Hello, little sausage.’

‘Are you coming up? Have you finished for the day?’ She pointed up along the walkway overhead to their flat on the seventh floor, sounding quite adult, as was her way.

‘I have, my love. I got off early – not much doing, I’m afraid.’ A look of defeat flashed across his face that tore at Marnie’s heart. ‘I wondered if I’d see you on your way home.’

‘And here I am!’ Edith jumped up and down on the spot.

‘What happened to your sock?’ Dougie looked quizzically at her bare leg.

‘It’s a long story, my love. A very long story.’ Marnie pulled a face and he nodded his understanding; long stories and the scrapes Edith got into were not strangers to him.

‘We’ll save it for when we get home, then.’ He reached out and ruffled Edith’s hair. Still the little girl bounced, her energy unmatched. ‘See you in a minute, Marn.’

‘Bye, love!’

They stood and watched the van as it drove towards the car park.

‘Do you think Pop might like to see Minty?’

Marnie stopped short on the pavement and stared at the child. ‘Please tell me you’re not thinking of digging her up, are you, Edith?’ She kept her tone stern, her gaze level.

‘Course I’m not!’ They walked on in silence, approaching the concrete steps that would eventually take them up to their floor. ‘But if I did, I’d probably be able to get my sock back ...’