Page 29 of Good Sisters

‘Everyone dies, Mummy.’

‘Well, yes, they do, but I won’t die for a very long time. Please don’t worry about that. I’m super-healthy.’

‘Healthy people die too,’ she said, looking at her feet. ‘Billy’s dad was healthy, but he got hit by a truck on his bicycle.’

Billy was a boy who lived three doors down from us. His poor dad had been killed cycling home from work last year.

‘That’s true, but I don’t cycle because I think it’s dangerous. I promise you, Clara, Mummy is not going to die.’

‘You can’t promise that.’ She stopped walking. Crossing her hands over her chest, she announced, ‘I don’t want to go to school. I want to go home.’

Oh, no. I had a meeting at nine that I could not be late for. She had refused to go to school on two days last week and I’d had to get Gavin to help me. But once his baby arrived, he wouldn’t be available for last-minute SOS calls. I wished for the umpteenth time that Christelle hadn’t gone travelling. Still, I had to manage this, now and going forward. Clara needed to go to school, have structure in her life and get used to being with other people. It was a small school and they were so kind to her, very accommodating of her needs. I had to get her into class. I kept my voice soft but firm.

‘Clara, Miss Rogers is waiting for you. I have to go to work. There is no one to mind you at home. Gavin will pick you up at two forty-five p.m. We talked about this, and you promised you’d go to school every day this week.’

‘I want to go home. It’s too noisy in school.’

‘I’ll talk to Miss Rogers and see if you can go to the libraryfor a bit. You can read your bird book until you feel ready for class.’

‘As long as I want?’

‘Yes,’ I lied.

Miss Rogers would have to work on getting her out of the library. If I didn’t go soon, I’d be late, and this meeting had taken ages to set up. I’d been schmoozing the potential client for months. If they signed with us, it would be worth millions to the firm. I needed to bring home this deal. Since Mum’s death, I hadn’t been on my A-game. My concentration was awful. Where I used to read a document and be able almost to quote it back verbatim, I was now struggling to find basic words for things. It could be grief, could be peri-menopause, but whatever it was, it was driving me crazy.

I managed to get Clara to the door of the school and handed her over to Miss Rogers, who agreed that she could go to the library for ‘a bit’.

‘How long is a bit?’ Clara asked.

Not waiting to hear the answer, I backed out of the school as fast as my legs could carry me and hopped into a taxi.

The meeting went well. I was flying along, firing on all cylinders until the client, R. B. James, was signing the documents. Ronald James pulled out a silver Montblanc pen. It was the same model I had bought Mum for her birthday years ago and the one she proudly used to do the crossword every day. Whenever I called into the house it would be sitting on the little side table beside her favourite chair. I could see her getting Clara to write the letters down on the crossword. It was something they’d enjoyed doing together. Emotion welled up. Jesus, not now. I squashed it back down. Focus, Louise.

‘We’re delighted to welcome you to Price Jackson and I can promise you that our structured finance and … and …’

I could not for the life of me remember the word for securitization, which, considering I was head of the securitization department at Price Jackson, was not a good look. Oh, my God, what was wrong with me? Mum’s face swam before my eyes. I began to sweat. Ronald James was frowning at me. I could feel sweat pooling under my arms and I was wearing a dove-grey silk blouse. I clamped my arms to my sides as I floundered around. This was not me. Louise Devlin did not forget words. Louise Devlin was a boss bitch. Louise Devlin did not forget the name of her own bloody department. But, right now, Louise Devlin was about to bawl her eyes out.

‘What I mean to say is that … the team here … has enjoyed a pre-eminent reputation in arranging … uhm, in arranging …’

‘Structured finance transactions,’ Ian, my right-hand man, jumped in.

‘Yes, exactly.’

‘Are you all right?’ Ronald looked at me.

‘Absolutely,’ I said, as confidently as I could. ‘Right then, let’s have a glass of champagne to celebrate.’

‘I’ll get that sorted,’ Ian offered.

‘Not at all, I have a special bottle in my office for the occasion.’

I left the boardroom as quickly as I could and rushed to my office.

Jenny looked up as I sprinted past her. She followed me in and closed the door.

‘What’s up?’

‘I’m … I’m … it’s just … my mum …’ I began to sob.

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