Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [132]
She shifted uncomfortably. Something sharp was digging into her back. A forage revealed it to be Buzz Lightyear. Outside the window the seagulls shrieked again, their ugly forlorn cries echoing within her. She felt trapped, painted into a corner, blocked. As though she was locked in a small dark airless box, which was getting ever tighter – she couldn’t understand it. She’d always been happy with her lot. Her life had happened exactly as it should and its progress had been ever forward, ever positive. Then, with no warning, it seemed to have stopped. Going nowhere with nothing to look forward to. A horrible thought wormed in – was it going to be like this for ever?
Suddenly she noticed that Dylan’s whistling had reached crescendo level. Seized by a frenzy of intolerance she exploded, ‘Stop breathing!’ With a rough shove to his head she changed the angle of his windpipe.
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, without waking up. She envied his uncomplicated slumber. Flattened against the mattress, she half-listened to the seagulls until Molly clambered into bed beside her and hit her in the face. Time to get up.
An emergency appendectomy, she thought longingly. Or a mild stroke. Nothing too serious. But one that involved a long stay in a hospital that had very restricted visiting hours.
After her shower she dried herself and spoke briskly to Dylan, who was sitting, yawning, on the edge of the bed. ‘Don’t give Craig any Frosties, he’s asked for them all week, but then he won’t touch them. There’s a new playgroup opening at the bottom of the road, we’re all invited to see it today. I don’t know whether or not to disturb Molly with a move, but she’s so unpopular with the old boot at her current one that maybe it might be a good idea –’
‘We used to talk about more than the kids.’ Dylan sounded weird.
‘Like what?’ Clodagh asked defensively.
‘Don’t know. Nothing… anything. Music, films, people…’
‘Well, what do you expect?’ she said angrily. ‘The kids are the only people I see, I can’t help it. But while we’re on the subject of outside interests, I was thinking we might do some decorating.’
‘Decorate what?’ he asked tightly.
‘Here, our bedroom.’ She slapped on some body cream and speedily rubbed it in.
‘It’s only a year since we did this room.’
‘It’s at least eighteen months.’
‘But…’
Clodagh began to pull on her underwear.
‘You missed a bit.’ Dylan reached over to rub in the blob of cream at the back of her thigh.
‘Get off!’ she snapped, shoving his arm away. The touch of his hand on her skin enraged her.
‘Would you calm down!’ Dylan shouted. ‘What is wrong with you?’
Too late, her response frightened her. She shouldn’t have done that. Dylan’s expression scared her even more – anger twisted and troubled with pain.
‘Sorry, I’m just tired,’ she managed. ‘Sorry. Can you make a start on dressing Molly?’
Trying to dress Molly when she didn’t want to be dressed was like trying to put a reluctant octopus into a string bag.
‘No!’ she screamed, wriggling and writhing.
‘Clodagh, give us a hand,’ Dylan called, trying to catch a flailing arm and shove it in a sleeve.
‘Mummy, nooooooo!’
While Clodagh held Molly still, Dylan crooned in a patient, sing-song voice. Ameliorative nonsense about how Molly was going to look lovely when her shorts and T-shirt were on and how pretty the colours were.
When the final shoe was wedged on to Molly’s kicking foot, Dylan smiled in triumph at Clodagh.
‘Mission accomplished,’ she grinned. ‘Thank you.’
When Dylan had said that all they talked about was the kids, it had panicked her. But if she was honest she’d admit it was partly true. They soldiered together, side by side, childcare workers – almost colleagues. And what was so wrong