13

Lisa

‘Who … who are you?’ says the woman at the door, looking just as scared as I feel. ‘What are you doing here?’

She’s about my age, perhaps a little older, and is wearing a long black coat with a fur collar. Her hair is long and white blonde, her face thin and deathly pale.

‘I’m just staying here for a few days,’ I say, my hands still trembling from the shock.

She looks at me for a moment with her head to one side. Her mouth is a slash of blood-red lipstick. I reach for Joe’s hand and pull him to my side.

‘Staying here?’ she says, frowning. ‘Just the two of you?’

‘Yes,’ I say tentatively. ‘Just the two of us.’

‘No one else?’ she says, putting her hand to her chest. ‘You’re sure there’s no one else?’

‘I’m positive.’

She nods her head.

‘Okay,’ she says, exhaling. ‘I’m … I’m sorry to have bothered you.’

We stand awkwardly for a few moments. My heart is still pounding wildly because for just a second, when I’d walked into the kitchen and seen the dark shape, I’d thought it was Mark standing there. I’d thought he’d found me.

‘I should go,’ she says, turning to leave. ‘I’m terribly sorry for disturbing you. I saw the car earlier … but there was no answer when I knocked on the door … I thought you were … It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I just got a bit of a shock.’

The more I look at her the more normal she seems and I realize just how jittery and on edge I am.

‘Have you brought Daddy?’

I look down. Joe is standing next to me, pointing at the woman.

She smiles then and her face softens.

‘No,’ she says. ‘I’m afraid not.’

I lift Joe up and place him on the table next to the box of toy animals I brought with us from the house. He picks up a plastic tiger and waves it at the woman.

‘How old is he?’ she says, turning to me.

‘He’s three,’ I reply. ‘Four in April.’

‘He’s lovely,’ she says, smiling at him. ‘You’re very lucky. Anyway, I really must go. Again, I’m very sorry for disturbing you.’

‘Want picnic?’

I turn round. Joe is waving a plastic spoon at the woman.

‘You have picnic with me?’

She laughs and shakes her head.

‘That sounds lovely,’ she says. ‘But I really must be going.’

‘No, stay for picnic,’ cries Joe, banging the spoon on the table.

‘Joe,’ I say, taking the spoon. ‘Don’t be naughty.’

But I can sense that he’s getting restless and I can’t face another tantrum.

‘Look, would you like a cup of tea?’ I say, reckoning that if this woman stays for what Joe thinks is a picnic I might just be able to avoid him having another meltdown. ‘I think Joe would like that.’

She looks like she wants to get out of here fast.