The Secret Life of Evie Hamilton - Catherine Alliott [40]
‘I dare say the boy and meself will make them out.’ He touched the peak of his cap, in a rather sweet, old-fashioned gesture, as, I felt, in a gentler age, a horse dealer might.
A horse dealer, I thought with a start as we drove out of the yard. Is that what he was? That sounded a bit – you know – dodgy. But I reckoned he was honest, essentially. And I was pretty sure we hadn't paid over the odds. And even if we had, more importantly, Anna had got her dream, a pony. And she might need a few dreams, I thought wretchedly as we drove back down the Woodstock Road. She was prattling away beside me, shiny-eyed, about Molly, about how she couldn't wait to tell Jemima, her best friend, couldn't wait to show her cousins. Yes, she might need a pony to cling to, if her little world was about to be shattered, her bubble burst.
I gripped the steering wheel, letting out a long, shaky breath as we turned into our road, then slammed my foot on the brake as a girl stepped out onto a zebra crossing in front of us. I went hot. Christ, I'd been miles away. As she walked past she glared at me through the windscreen, clearly believing I hadn't stopped quickly enough. A skinny girl, in a skimpy white halter-neck top, about seventeen. Was that her, I wondered, with a sudden stab of horror. The barmaid's daughter? I sat, frozen at the wheel as I watched her mount the pavement, then turn left, in the opposite direction to our house. No. No, of course not. I drove on, flustered.
But one day – one day it could be. One day, maybe having got no response to her letter, or perhaps some response – I'd been so upset last night I hadn't asked Ant if he'd formulated a plan, if he intended to write – she'd come. Anna and I would arrive back from the school run, or perhaps a shopping trip, to find her in the drawing room, perched on a sofa opposite Ant, cool and defiant, Ant turning wide, frightened eyes on us as we walked in.
‘Won't Daddy be pleased!’
I swung around to Anna, horrified. ‘Why?’ I whispered.
‘Well, he always says he likes a houseful of girls. And now he's got Molly too. He's got another girl!’
9
As we drew up outside the house, it was in time to see Ant, not in his usual weekend jeans, but navy chinos and a biscuit linen jacket, shutting the front door behind him. He locked it carefully, pocketed the key, then turned to come down the steps, pausing to pick up a large suitcase.
‘Where's Daddy going?’ said Anna, her voice betraying a note of panic.
My mouth dried as I watched him descend the steps. His head was bent and he looked purposeful, sad.
‘Wait here.’
I parked chaotically on the opposite side of the road, nose in, tail out. Then I got out and dashed across the street, nearly getting mown down by a convertible Alfa Romeo, with an alfa romeo at the wheel, his squeeze beside him.
‘Oh, for fuck's sake!’ he roared fruitily, but I ignored him, climbing over the bonnet and running to Ant.
‘Where are you going?’ I gasped.
He stared impassively at me. ‘To your mother's.’
‘My mother's?’ Even in my distress it seemed an unlikely bolt hole.
He looked at me. ‘Don't you remember? We're going for lunch there today.’
My mind cleared. ‘Oh!’ Saturday. Yes, of course, lunch. ‘But – the suitcase…’
‘It's not. It's that old Z-bed we had in the attic. She wants to borrow it for this reiki thing she's doing.’
I gazed down at it; saw that he was right. The collapsible bed. Which folded up into what looked like a large case. And which we hadn't used for years. I felt my heart slow down, but it had been at racing speed, so it wasn't an immediate descent. As he looked at me I realized he was suddenly alive to what I'd been thinking. A wave of shock passed over his face.
‘But, it's huge,’ I prattled on, trying to gloss over my horrific assumption. ‘What were you going to do – drag it there or something?’
‘No, I was going to put the seats down in the back of my car and meet you over there,’ he said evenly. ‘I