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ELEVEN
CHARLOTTE
The house is eerily silent apart from the low hum of the old pipes in the attic. God only knows how long I’ve been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Cold and unable to sleep I feel around on the bedside table for my phone, smiling when my wedding ring clinks against the chrome cover. I drag it into bed with me and the insanely bright screen lights up half the room in a foggy blue hue.
‘Ten past three,’ I say aloud, as if anyone was listening. ‘And still no word from Gavin.’
I texted him a few times. And I tried calling him once when I was waiting in the car while Molly was at her piano lesson. I tried him on WhatsApp and Facebook Messenger too but I can see that he hasn’t even opened the messages.
I shove my phone under my pillow and toss and turn trying to get comfortable. I’m desperate to sleep but my mind is racing. I can’t stop thinking about Kayla and all our chats about her future – studying physiotherapy and playing basketball for the university team.
I close my eyes and try counting backwards from one hundred. I make it to zero and I’m more awake than ever. I try again. Endless rounds of counting ensue until, finally, I hear a key turning in the front door.
The sound of hushed voices talking carries up the stairs like a tap on the shoulder, suggesting I get up and join them. I reach for my dressing gown on the end of the bed. But I decide against it – Kayla had a horrible day and the last thing she needs is another adult struggling to keep it together in front of her. Besides, I need to talk to Gavin and it would be better if we’re alone. I have some questions about Molly and blood tests. I’m sure he has more information now after talking to Heather on the way to Cork.
There are footsteps on the stairs and the door to Kayla’s bedroom opens and a few moments later closes. I I have to fight the urge to run into her room, wrap my arms around her and tell her that I love her. ‘I’ll get you something to sleep in,’ I strain my ears to hear Gavin say as his footsteps circle the landing and the linen cupboard opens and closes.
Heather mumbles something but I can’t make it out. Then I hear Gavin’s voice again, followed by more walking around and I assume Gavin is coming to bed. I wait for the slightly ajar bedroom door to swing open fully.
Seconds tick by in slow motion until I hear Gavin on the stairs again, walking back down. His deep voice is whispering downstairs and I can hear Heather replying but I’m not sure what they’re saying. Cupboards gently open and close in the kitchen and the kettle flicks on. It’s becoming increasingly noisy and I hope that Molly doesn’t wake up.
I slide my legs over the edge of the bed and the cold of the floorboards nibbles my toes as soon as I stand. I’m throwing on my dressing gown when Gavin comes into the room.
‘Hey,’ he says, as if he’s shocked to find me in our bedroom. ‘What are you doing up? It’s so late. Did we wake you? I’m sorry.’
I shake my head and sit back onto the edge of the bed. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’
‘Yeah,’ Gavin nods. ‘Molly?’
‘She’s asleep. She went to bed as usual,’ I say. ‘She was wrecked after her piano lesson.’
‘Is she okay?’
‘Yeah. She asked where you were, of course. And she was disappointed that I was reading her bedtime story instead of you. But she hasn’t picked up on anything.’
Gavin swallows and nods. ‘She just likes my funny voices.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘she does.’
I want to ask about Kayla. But I can’t seem to find the right words and Gavin looks so exhausted I’m not sure he’d be able to find the right answers. So I just say, ‘Is Kayla okay?’
‘I dunno,’ Gavin sighs. ‘She fell asleep in the car and she can’t walk very well so I carried her into bed?—’
There’s a loud bang downstairs and I jump. ‘What was that?’
‘Heather,’ Gavin says, getting undressed for bed.
‘She’s still downstairs?’ I say.
‘She’s baking cookies, or brownies or something.’ Gavin flops onto the bed on his side and slides under the duvet pulling it right up to his chin.
‘Baking?’ My eyes widen as I reach for my phone and check the time. ‘At half three in the morning, she’s baking?’
‘She bakes when she’s stressed.’
‘Sure,’ I say, sliding under the duvet.
I turn my back on Gavin, close my eyes and find my spot. He drapes his arm around my waist and pulls me close to him. The heat of his body wraps around me and I snuggle into him, trying to ignore that his ex is downstairs in my kitchen.
