Page 37 of The Good Part
‘Why didn’t you ever tell me that you were into upholstery?’
Faye gives me an amused look. ‘I don’t know. Everyone discovers themselves at different times.’ She frowns. ‘She’s going to be upset that you don’t remember her. I should go see if she’s okay.’
‘Should I come and apologise?’ I ask, but Faye shakes her head. ‘I’m happy for you, Faye. I’m sorry I didn’t say the right thing. Just when I think I understand how everything is different, something else changes.’ I wave an arm in her direction.
‘I haven’t changed, Lucy. I just met someone and fell in love.’ Faye reaches out to stroke my hair. ‘Why don’t you have a shower, get dressed. We could all go for a walk together. The crocuses are out, it’s a glorious day.’
‘Maybe tomorrow.’
‘You can’t hide up here forever. You’re going to have to face life eventually.’ She turns at the door, then says more firmly, ‘People need you, Lucy.’
Once Faye has gone, I try to quell a nagging sense of guilt by picking up my phone. There’s a new message from Michael.
Lucy, I know you’re not well, but we really need to talk. The pitch off is only three weeks away, and I haven’t even heard your idea. Is there anything you can send over? Anything the team can be working on in your absence? M.
Pitch off?A new hum of anxiety sets in. I shut my phone in the bedside drawer and pull the duvet back over my head.
Someone nudges me awake, and I open my eyes to see Sam sitting on the bed beside me, picking up my book, which has fallen on the floor. ‘Lucy, come on. The doctor said you needed rest, but this isn’t healthy. At least come downstairs for a meal with the kids.’ He pauses, his eyes full of concern. ‘Do you even know what day it is?’
‘Wednesday?’
‘It’s Friday, Lucy.’
‘I’m just so tired. I’ve got this terrible headache.’ Both these things are true. Though mainly because I stayed up all night readingBreaking Dawn, and googling ‘When did Twix bars get so small?’ so I’m out of sync with the world.
Sam’s jaw clenches, as he reaches out to feel my forehead.
‘Please just let me sleep,’ I say, already exhausted by this conversation.
It might be the following morning when I wake to a small knock on my door.
‘Hello?’ I say, squinting towards the light coming from the corridor.
‘Can I come in?’ Felix asks, hovering at the threshold.
‘Of course,’ I say, sitting up, and pulling my T-shirt down to make sure I’m decent. Now, when I’m not wearing a bra, my boobs droop. They’re not always where I think they should be, so in company, I double-check they’re fully sheathed.
‘Why are you in bed? It’s teatime,’ Felix asks, turning on the light. My eyes squint against the unwelcome glare.
‘Mummy’s not very well,’ I say, channelling Beth fromLittle Women.
‘You don’t look sick,’ he says.
‘Well, it’s not something you can see, it’s an inside illness. Do you know what mental health means?’
‘Yes. We have a mental health coach at school.’ He pauses. ‘Don’t you want to find the portal and go home?’
‘Felix, Mummy was confused when she said that. She doesn’t think there is a magic portal.’ I attempt a maternal smile, now channelling Marmee fromLittle Women.Why isLittle Womenmy only reference point for facial expressions?And why am I speaking in the third person? I hate it when people do that. I try again. ‘I’m still me, Felix, I’m still your mother. I’ve just forgotten a few things.’
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Felix says. ‘If you tell me what the machine looked like, we could find out who made it. People collect these old machines, don’t they? There could be more than one.’
Before I can reply, he’s thrust an iPad into my hand, and the screen animates with multiple-choice questions, under a golden banner than reads, ‘Portal Quest’.
‘You made this?’ I ask, impressed.
‘I do coding club at school. We’re studying flow charts and visual problem solving. Mummy said it wouldn’t be hard for me, and it’s not.’
His confidence is contagious, and I feel a brief rush of hope. Maybe the machineisout there. Maybe wecouldfind it. But then my rational mind kicks in.
