Emily and her daughter Maisie are valiantly attempting to pick up some of the toys that are scattered all over the hall and down the stairs.
‘Thanks, you guys, but honestly just leave it.’ I grab hold of Leo, who’s running past me into the lounge with another tub of Lego. ‘Take that back upstairs!’
Why did I tell Rosie she could have her friends round after school today? I’m exhausted and I could barely concentrate on Pip and Emily’s conversation. All I could think about were those photos of me with that man. About whether it even really is me. And if it is, then what the hell happened that night?
Normally I love having my friends over and doing homely stuff with all the children. I like being sociable, and baking makes me feel like a good parent, like Mother Earth. But this afternoon seemed to drag on forever. And I’m sure there was a weird atmosphere between me, Pip and Emily. I caught them giving one another funny looks more than once. Could they have heard about the rumour at school? Maybe Sasha and Maisie mentioned something. That’s all I need – the parents speculating about whether or not I’m a murderer!
Finally, my visitors leave, and I settle the kids in front of the TV while I set about restoring some sort of order to the house. At least we now have several Tupperware boxes full of sailboat cupcakes for the regatta cake stall, which is another thing I can check off my list.
I’ve just got the dishwasher going and started wiping down the surfaces when Ed comes downstairs. He was hiding out in our bedroom while the chaos was going on. He did offer to help out with the kids, but I told him to take it easy and chill out in the bedroom, as he’ll be leaving soon for his evening shift at the pub.
‘Hey, Tee, want a hand?’ He comes over and kisses me on the lips. I get another cold sweep of fear at the thought of what might happen if he sees those photos. How will I be able to justify them when I can’t even remember what happened that night?
‘No, that’s okay. You’ve got work soon. Sit down and take it easy while you can.’
‘Are you sure?’ He leans his elbows on the newly cleaned countertop. ‘That sounded like a full-on afternoon. How many kids were here?’
‘Our two, plus two of Rosie’s friends and little Milo.’
‘Sounded like you had the whole school round.’
‘Most of the noise and mess was caused by your son.’
‘Love the use of the word “your”.’
I grin, knowing full well that Leo gets his energy fromme. According to my parents, I was also a handful at that age, while Ed was supposedly a mellow, easy-going child. ‘How long have you got before you leave?’
Ed looks up at the kitchen clock. ‘Half an hour max.’
‘Got time for a sit down and a cuppa while the kids are occupied? I’ll clean the rest up later.’
‘Yeah, go on then. Just a quick one.’ I make us both a drink while Ed gives the table a wipe over. He stops for a moment. ‘I love the smell of baking. D’you reckon we could have one of those cupcakes with our tea? Or are they strictly for the regatta?’
‘I think we could sneak a couple without Rosie finding out. She was acting like the cake police earlier, making sure that Leo didn’t eat too many.’ I bring two over to the table along with our drinks.
‘These look amazing, Tee.’ He examines the little cakes with their perfect blue-and-red sailing boats iced on the top.
‘They’re cool, aren’t they? I used stencils.’
‘These will go down really well on Saturday.’
‘You think?’
‘Definitely.’
Ed’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he takes it out and stares at the screen, his forehead wrinkling.
‘What’s up?’
‘Not sure. I just got a text. What are they talking about?’ He passes me the phone.
As I take it from him and start reading the words on the screen, I get a sick, tingling feeling in my stomach. The words are stark:
Ask Tia about the photos.
My heart begins to pound, and my throat goes dry. There’s no name attached to the text, and it just shows up as an unknown number. I have to make it look like I’m calm, even though my insides are churning. I can’t give Ed any reason to think this is anything sinister.
‘Hm.’ I frown and hope my voice remains steady. ‘Could be about the school photos. I asked Mrs Lovatt to let me know how to order them, but I’m not sure why she would have textedyou?’ I pass the phone back to him quickly so he can’t see my trembling fingers. ‘She probably got your number off the parents contact list.’
