Things I Want My Daughters to Know_ A Novel - Elizabeth Noble [47]
“I’ll see you.”
Ed wondered if he would. Amanda let herself out, and he watched her walk away from the upstairs window until she turned the corner and disappeared from view.
The purposeful walk she had adopted, striding away from Ed’s house, suspecting that he was watching her, evaporated when she got around the corner. She didn’t know where to go. She slowed to a meander, and that pace took her, within a few minutes, into a warm café, where she realized that she looked ridiculous and inappropriate, but she no longer cared. She kept her coat buttoned over the party dress, smoothed her bed head hair behind each ear, and ordered tea and toasted teacakes. No one took much notice of her, to her relief, but the tea came quickly and she drank it down, though it burned her throat.
She didn’t know what to think about first. She tried to concentrate on her childhood, as though thinking back to the familiar might throw up clues to something she ought to have been looking for all along. But it didn’t, of course. Who would think about something like that? It was totally bizarre. She ruled out calling Mark. He didn’t know. She couldn’t tell him. She pulled out her phone and called Lisa.
Her sister answered on the third ring.
“Lisa?”
“Mand? Happy New Year!”
“You, too.”
“You okay?”
“Not really.”
“What’s wrong?” She heard the alarm in Lisa’s voice.
“No. Nothing. Much. I’m okay. I just…”
“What?”
“I wondered if you were free, today, this morning, sometime…to meet up…for a coffee or something….”
“You sound weird. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Stop saying nothing, you idiot. Did something happen with that guy? Are you okay? Where are you?”
She hadn’t meant to frighten Lisa, and for a moment, she wished she hadn’t called. She couldn’t tell her over the phone. She wasn’t even sure she could tell her face-to-face.
“Nothing happened. Listen, Lisa, please. Calm down. I’m fine. I promise. I’m in London. I just wanted to see you—for a chat. Honest. I’m fine.”
Lisa sounded reassured. “Okay. Okay. So…today…”
“If you’re free.”
“We’ve got Cee Cee. We were going to take her to a film. But…”
“I don’t want to interrupt….”
“Glad of the chance to get out of happy families, to tell you the truth. Tell me where and when.”
Amanda looked down at the dress, sticking out beneath her coat. She needed to go home, take a shower, think of what the hell to say. “How about lunch? Covent Garden? One o’clock.”
“Long as we can hit the sales afterward.”
“You’re on.” She made her tone light.
“And you’re sure you’re okay? How did the date go?”
“The date went great. I’ll fill you in when I see you, okay?”
“See you later.”
THE HOT SHOWER FELT GOOD. SHE STOOD FOR LONG MINUTES under it, the bathroom filling with steam. She’d been glad to discover that neither of her flatmates was home, so there’d been no need to explain the dress, or, for that matter, her absence. Nor was there any need to share the shower, so she stood there, motionless, until her skin was red and the hot water ran to lukewarm. She wrapped herself in a towel, turning another into a turban, and stared at her blurry face in the wet mirror. “Whose daughter are you?” she asked her reflection.
She thought she heard her mum answer. “You’re mine. All mine.”
She dried the mirror off and looked at her body. Under the shower redness she blushed as she remembered Ed, remembered his hands on her, all over her. And her responses. And his eyes, boring into hers. She went back into her bedroom, found her phone in her bag, and dialed his number.
When the computer-generated voice answered, asking her to leave a message, she glanced at her watch. She’d only left him an hour ago. He had to still be there. He was still there, at home, and he had his phone in his hand, and he was looking at it, seeing who was calling, and he was choosing not to speak to her. She must have been that terrifying. He didn’t want to talk to her.
She lost her nerve and hung up.
Dialed again. Got the same recorded message. Took a deep breath, and spoke.
“Ed? It’s me. I just