lecherous men – was delivered in staccato bursts of anxiety.
I drew Chloë aside. ‘I’m sorry Sacha isn’t here.’
Chloë averted her eyes with their long, long lashes, but not before I had caught a glimpse of panic and hurt. ‘Sacha doesn’t think goodbyes are important. But I think they are, don’t you, Mum?’
‘Yes.’
She fingered her daysack, which contained her money, ticket and passport. ‘He couldn’t come, could he?’
‘You did pack all the medicines?’ I begged her.
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘You’ve got your money-belt on?’
‘You’ve asked me that twice, Mum.’
Her role was to be composed and determined. Mine was to fuss, fear and, finally, to raise my hand in farewell and push my daughter gently into her future.
8
Hoping to catch a final glimpse of Chloë – just a flicker of her head, the suggestion of her shoulder – I hovered outside Departures and watched, without seeing, the progression of passengers file through. Some were girls like Chloë, Jenny and Fabia, young, hopeful, anxious to be tested and tempered by what the world had to offer.
Five minutes sifted by, then ten. I shifted my bag from one shoulder to the other. I dug my hand into my jacket pocket and felt the car-park ticket slide under my nail. I was preparing myself. A tooth after Novocaine is numb, but the pain is not absent.
An official on the gate sent me a look of mixed suspicion and boredom. He’d seen it all before. My mobile phone didn’t take international calls and I ducked into a telephone booth, rang Will, and fed more coins into the telephone and waited.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘I forgot to check Chloë had her fleece. It’s winter in Australia now and she’ll be cold.’
‘Is that why you’ve got me out of the meeting?’
‘I just wanted to tell you that she’s gone.’
His voice sounded tender – but also a little exasperated.
‘I’m glad you did. Listen, you idiot, she can buy something out there. They do have shops.’
‘I know,’ I said, miserably. ‘I know I shouldn’t have rung you. I’m being stupid, that’s all.’
‘Well, I’m glad you did,’ he repeated, and did not terminate the conversation with the usual ‘must go’ until he had talked me through Chloë’s potential goose bumps and checked that I had enough money to pay for the car park.
I cried all the way to Elaine’s. The tears dripped off my chin and on to the car seat.
She was making chocolate cup cakes for the Red Cross charity fête when I walked into the kitchen. There was a deafening noise coming from upstairs.
‘That’s Jake,’ she said as she kissed me. ‘Practising the drums.’
‘Home from home,’ I said.
She grabbed me by the shoulders and searched my face. ‘Very down in the dumps?’
‘A bit.’ I bit my lip. ‘Actually, very. I don’t know what I’m going to do without Chloë.’
‘Right. Let’s make a plan,’ she said briskly. ‘First of all you will help me make these wretched cakes and then you will ring home and tell them you are staying the night, and blow everyone else.’ She thrust a wooden spoon at me.
‘Get going. Earn your keep.’
Upstairs, the drum beats rolled and crashed. Elaine sighed and brushed back her hair with a hand that trembled.
I asked a little anxiously, ‘Are you all right?’
‘Sure.’
But, over a supper of spaghetti Bolognese and a bottle of wine, Elaine confessed, ‘I’ve had enough of this life.’
This was not like her. ‘What’s happened?’
There was a long pause and she dropped her head into her hands. ‘I think Neil may be having a serious affair this time.’ Her voice was muffled. ‘All the signs are there. One of the secretaries in the House. I’ve been trying not to face it, but I must.’
‘Oh, Elaine.’
Elaine raised her head. ‘I didn’t mean to say anything, Fanny. Not while you’re feeling so bereft.’
That was so like Elaine and I cast around as to how I could possibly help and comfort. ‘Tell
I drew Chloë aside. ‘I’m sorry Sacha isn’t here.’
Chloë averted her eyes with their long, long lashes, but not before I had caught a glimpse of panic and hurt. ‘Sacha doesn’t think goodbyes are important. But I think they are, don’t you, Mum?’
‘Yes.’
She fingered her daysack, which contained her money, ticket and passport. ‘He couldn’t come, could he?’
‘You did pack all the medicines?’ I begged her.
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘You’ve got your money-belt on?’
‘You’ve asked me that twice, Mum.’
Her role was to be composed and determined. Mine was to fuss, fear and, finally, to raise my hand in farewell and push my daughter gently into her future.
8
Hoping to catch a final glimpse of Chloë – just a flicker of her head, the suggestion of her shoulder – I hovered outside Departures and watched, without seeing, the progression of passengers file through. Some were girls like Chloë, Jenny and Fabia, young, hopeful, anxious to be tested and tempered by what the world had to offer.
Five minutes sifted by, then ten. I shifted my bag from one shoulder to the other. I dug my hand into my jacket pocket and felt the car-park ticket slide under my nail. I was preparing myself. A tooth after Novocaine is numb, but the pain is not absent.
An official on the gate sent me a look of mixed suspicion and boredom. He’d seen it all before. My mobile phone didn’t take international calls and I ducked into a telephone booth, rang Will, and fed more coins into the telephone and waited.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘I forgot to check Chloë had her fleece. It’s winter in Australia now and she’ll be cold.’
‘Is that why you’ve got me out of the meeting?’
‘I just wanted to tell you that she’s gone.’
His voice sounded tender – but also a little exasperated.
‘I’m glad you did. Listen, you idiot, she can buy something out there. They do have shops.’
‘I know,’ I said, miserably. ‘I know I shouldn’t have rung you. I’m being stupid, that’s all.’
‘Well, I’m glad you did,’ he repeated, and did not terminate the conversation with the usual ‘must go’ until he had talked me through Chloë’s potential goose bumps and checked that I had enough money to pay for the car park.
I cried all the way to Elaine’s. The tears dripped off my chin and on to the car seat.
She was making chocolate cup cakes for the Red Cross charity fête when I walked into the kitchen. There was a deafening noise coming from upstairs.
‘That’s Jake,’ she said as she kissed me. ‘Practising the drums.’
‘Home from home,’ I said.
She grabbed me by the shoulders and searched my face. ‘Very down in the dumps?’
‘A bit.’ I bit my lip. ‘Actually, very. I don’t know what I’m going to do without Chloë.’
‘Right. Let’s make a plan,’ she said briskly. ‘First of all you will help me make these wretched cakes and then you will ring home and tell them you are staying the night, and blow everyone else.’ She thrust a wooden spoon at me.
‘Get going. Earn your keep.’
Upstairs, the drum beats rolled and crashed. Elaine sighed and brushed back her hair with a hand that trembled.
I asked a little anxiously, ‘Are you all right?’
‘Sure.’
But, over a supper of spaghetti Bolognese and a bottle of wine, Elaine confessed, ‘I’ve had enough of this life.’
This was not like her. ‘What’s happened?’
There was a long pause and she dropped her head into her hands. ‘I think Neil may be having a serious affair this time.’ Her voice was muffled. ‘All the signs are there. One of the secretaries in the House. I’ve been trying not to face it, but I must.’
‘Oh, Elaine.’
Elaine raised her head. ‘I didn’t mean to say anything, Fanny. Not while you’re feeling so bereft.’
That was so like Elaine and I cast around as to how I could possibly help and comfort. ‘Tell
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