Page 46 of One Step Behind
Beth and Archie. My babies. I promised them I’d do better, but things feel more out of control than before.
I draw in a long breath and try to steady my thoughts. As I head to Christie’s house I start to think about the time off I’ve been given. We could take a holiday, somewhere warm with a pool and a sun lounger. I picture the children playing in the water for hours on end, and Stuart and I drinking ice-cold beer and reading books in the sun. We haven’t been on holiday since before you. Stuart landed a big project last August – 109 houses in a new complex on the outskirts of town – and we couldn’t get away, but maybe now we can.
By the time I’m parked outside Christie’s house, a fragile peace has settled inside me.
Christie is laughing as she opens the door. Her face is flushed and her eyes are sparkling with amusement.
‘Jenna, hi.’ The laughter stops and she throws a glance back to the kitchen. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you. Stuart’s already here.’
‘Is he?’
‘He said he was collecting the kids today. Come on in.’
Christie’s home is a three-bed semi-detached in a sprawling seventies housing estate where every house looks the same. Her kitchen is a chaotic collection of paintings on the fridge and photos Blu-tacked to the wall. There’s a sticker chart behind the door with the names of all the children she cares for.
‘Hi,’ I say to Stuart. He’s in his work clothes – a dusty grey polo shirt and khaki shorts. He looks rugged and tanned and very comfortable in Christie’s kitchen with a cup of tea in his hands. I always assumed he collected and dropped off in the same rush of ‘Hi, how are you?’ and flurry of thank yous like I do. Does he always stop for a drink?
‘Hey, what are you doing here?’ he asks, leaning forward to kiss my cheek.
‘I thought I was picking the kids up today.’ I frown and glance between them, feeling like an outsider. I’m sure I’m supposed to be collecting them today. I always collect them when my shift finishes at five.
‘Saturday you forget them, and today you try to collect them when you don’t need to.’ Stuart laughs and so does Christie.
‘Hey, that’s not fair,’ Christie says, throwing a tea towel at him. ‘Saturday was my fault, not Jenna’s.’
I give Christie a grateful smile and force away the feeling that Stuart’s words are another dig.
Archie rushes into the kitchen, followed by Beth and Niamh and another boy I don’t know. ‘Can we have a snack please, Christie?’ Archie asks, looking to the others with a wide grin that makes me think they’ve put him up to asking.
Christie laughs and pulls out a biscuit tin. ‘How can I resist such starving baby birds, eh?’
The four children leap forwards in a scramble of hands and the kitchen fills with the noise of rifling biscuits. Archie pulls his hand free first, holding two and a half custard creams and grinning triumphantly.
‘Just take one, please, Archie,’ I say. ‘You’ll be eating dinner soon.’
‘Let them be,’ Stuart grins. ‘They’re having fun.’
A frisson of annoyance runs through me. It was he who didn’t like how many snacks Beth and Archie ate at Christie’s, but actually doing something about it would ruin his best-dad-in-the-world routine.
‘Cup of tea?’ Christie raises the kettle at me before filling it with water.
‘Coffee if you’ve got it, please. Are you sure we’re not disturbing you?’ I want to leave, but with Stuart still drinking his tea, I can’t exactly round up Beth and Archie and walk out the door.
‘Not at all. Jason won’t be home for a while yet and it’s nice to have some adult conversation.’ She flicks a switch on the kettle and turns back to me. ‘Stuart just told me about your stalker being in hospital. That’s good news.’
‘I guess.’ I shoot Stuart a look and wonder why it bothers me so much that he’s been talking about me.
‘You don’t sound convinced. It’s over, isn’t it?’she asks. The question is for me, but she’s looking at Stuart.
‘There’s still a long way to go. Convicting people for harassment is notoriously hard and even with a conviction there’s no telling if he’ll actually be sent to prison. He could get a suspended sentence and carry on doing it.’
‘But there’ll be a restraining order,’ Stuart pipes up.
‘Which something like fifty per cent of people break.’ My statistic and gloom hang in the air for a minute as Christie slides a mug of coffee across the counter towards me.
‘Just try to take care of yourself anyway,’ Christie says, eyeing me carefully.
‘I will. In fact, I’ve taken some time off.’
