Now – May 2022
Evie
Evie’s hands were bordering on sore from clapping and her face was bordering on sore from smiling. Thank goodness her school had an inset day today so that she’d been able to make it to Autumn’s Year Two Robin Hood play.
The applause eventually started to die down and her mum said, ‘Did you definitely get it all on video?’
Evie nodded. ‘Yes, every minute. She was perfect.’
‘I know. I can barely speak.’ Her mum dabbed a tissue to her eyes. Autumn had had a starring roleandhad played a short violin solo – genuinely not that screechily – at the beginning.
‘And now you can all go and say a quick hello to your family and friends before you get changed,’ Autumn’s class teacher told the children. ‘Slowly and quietly,’ she yelled, as they all stampeded towards the audience and two of Robin Hood’s merry men tripped over their bows and went flying.
Autumn sprinted towards Evie and her mum and they swung her up together for a big three-way hug.
‘You were literally the best Maid Marian I’ve ever seen in my whole life,’ Evie told her. ‘And violinist.’
‘It was fun,’ Autumn said. ‘Where are we going to go for dinner?’
‘I’m going to take you to Cirencester for pizza, just the two of us for a special treat,’ said Evie. ‘Mummy’s got stuff to do.’ Their mum was packing up her newly ex-partner Richard’s stuff and leaving it on the doorstep. Evie couldn’t understand why her mum constantly chose obvious bastards like Richard when she had lovely friends like Grant.
‘But you said we were going to have dinner with Richard,’ Autumn said to Evie’s mum. ‘And he said he was coming to the play.’
‘He was busy,’ Evie’s mum said. Busy forever more, apparently. ‘I don’t think we’re going to see him a lot any more.’
‘But he said he had a present for me for doing the play.’ Autumn’s little face fell. Eviereallyloathed Richard in that moment. She’d loathed him already for being the last – or more realistically latest – in a long line of men who’d hurt her mum, and it was even worse that he’d broken a promise to a seven-year-old. And been so nice to her when he was around if he wasn’t expecting to stay around. No-one should have their heart broken, but especially not a child.
‘I’m not sure we’re going to see him again, darling,’ their mum said. Oh, God, it looked like her eyes were swimming again. Yep, she was sniffing and pulling her sunglasses out of her bag.
Evie really hoped that her mum wasn’t going to get upset again right now. She’d spent a lot of the last couple of days crying over Richard, a lot of it on the phone to Evie on Wednesday evening, and in person last night when Evie had arrived after her drive over from London. If Evie was honest, she wasn’t just annoyed with Richard, she was fairly pissed off with her mum too, however unreasonably. Evie knew from personal experience that it was unsettling and unpleasant as a child watching your mum in and out of relationship after relationship, and she hated seeing Autumn experiencing the same.
‘Big night last night, Jenny?’ said one of the other mums, indicating the sunglasses and chortling a bit. ‘Still recovering nearly twenty-four hours on?’
‘Yep, exactly,’ Evie’s mum said in a slightly wobbly voice.
‘Did you say you needed to get going?’ Evie asked, to save her mum from the chat.
‘Yes, I did.’ Her mum shoved the sunglasses on further. ‘Lovely to see you, Zara.’
Evie’s mum wore her sunglasses all the way out of the dark church hall and through the church grounds in grey drizzle and up the road to Evie’s car, before finally taking them off as they got into it. If Evie ever saw Richard again, she’d be tempted to punch him. Thank goodness she was here to cheer up her mum and Autumn. Her mind went to Matthew. He might not be winning any prizes in the excitement stakes, but she couldn’t imagine him ever upping and leaving out of the blue. He was dependable, safe. Everything she’d ever wanted. Like the way he’d given her a key to his flat so soon. Lovely. She’d never used it, in fact, and she wouldn’t like to move in together yet, but she appreciated the sentiment a lot.
Evie dropped her mum in front of the pub in Melting and then drove down to the church and round the green and off towards Cirencester. She paused to turn right onto the Fosse Way and looked at Autumn in her rear-view mirror. She’d been remarkably monosyllabic the whole time since they’d dropped their mum.
‘You okay, Autumn?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ Autumn said, and turned her face to the side so that her hair was hanging over it and Evie couldn’t see it.
Evie’s throat was quite sore by the time they arrived at the pizza restaurant, from maintaining a flow of chirpy conversation in the face of total silence from Autumn. It was beyond bizarre. Her little sister was normally incredibly – occasionally exhaustingly – chatty.
‘You know something?’ she said to Autumn when they were seated at a red-and-white-checked-tablecloth-covered table and had menus. ‘When I’m upset about anything I find that the best thing to do is to tell someone who loves me all about it, and then I feel better. Are you upset about anything?’
Autumn didn’t say anything but swung her foot and kicked quite hard.
‘Ow,’ yelped Evie. ‘You kicked me.’
‘I didn’t mean to,’ Autumn said. ‘I meant to kick the table.’
‘Why did you mean to kick the table?’ Evie rubbed her shin.
