Page 94
In the Moses basket, Sam woke up. A squeak became a full air-raid siren in under five seconds. Paige winced and started to lever herself out of the armchair.
“I’ll get him,” Lauren said.
She was up before Paige could argue. Reggie slid off her lap with a grumble. She lifted Sam out the way Paige had shown her, one hand under his head, and brought him up against her shoulder. He was hot and furious and smelled of milk, and every time she held him, she forgot how small he was.
“Shh,” she murmured, swaying. “I know. I know. It’s terrible. Everything’s terrible. Your mum’s being mean to me.”
Sam yelled directly into her ear.
“I know. Take her side, then. See if I care.”
She walked him to the window and back, the way Becky did. Outside, the new estate was dark and identical, every house with the same front door and the same square of turf. The yelling dropped to a grizzle, then hiccups, then a small damp silence against her neck.
Lauren kept swaying.
The florist, and the filing she’d done badly for a year. The girl with the van, and the beanbag. The one who kept coming back for one more night, and the shower Lauren had fixed at two in the morning while being told she was the only one who understood.
Then she thought about Sunday night. Not Carly. The house.
The click of claws on the kitchen tiles. Berkeley lying across her feet while she cooked, and stepping over him to reach the sink, and not minding. The hedgehog doorstop. The moment he’d put his head on his paws and stopped watching for someone who wasn’t coming.
She’d liked that. Not only because Carly had been there. She’d liked having something in the house that needed nothing back but dinner, a walk and the door left open.
And Berkeley deserved to settle somewhere, whatever happened with Carly.
Sam had gone heavy on her shoulder, asleep again, mouth open against her jumper. Lauren turned around.
“Both,” she said quietly.
Paige looked up from the armchair.
“You asked if I want a dog or if I want Carly to need me.” Lauren kept her voice down. “Both. Probably. I’d be lying if I said otherwise, and you’d know.” She paused. “But I liked the house with him in it. I liked it a lot. And he’s been passed around for weeks. He deserves somewhere that’s just his. Even if it’s only for a bit.”
Paige weighed it up.
“Fine,” she said. “So long as you promise me that you’re not just doing this for Carly.”
“I’m not just doing this for Carly. I think having someone else to look after will be good for me.”
“And the clinic?”
Lauren made a face. “I’ll do the numbers.”
“When?”
“This week.”
“Lauren.”
“This week. I promise. I’ll fill in all three columns. I’ll even add a fourth.” She lowered Sam back into the basket, his fist up beside his head again, hailing his taxi. “God, he’s gorgeous. How did you make something this gorgeous?”
“Becky’s genes.”
“Becky didn’t contribute any genes.”
“Then it must be mine,” Paige said, and smiled. “Come here.”
Lauren went. Paige pulled her down onto the arm of the chair and wrapped both arms round her waist, like she used to when they were nineteen and everything had gone wrong.
