Joanne couldn’t remember her parents being present when she
went to birthday parties. She had memories of the end of the party when they
would wait for the knock at the door, never wanting to be the first to be
collected or the last. It always broke a spell, that knock at the door, the
loss of a shared secret and a return to being the children they were at home. Joanne
wondered what magic was held in parties for children if their parents insisted
in watching every moment.
She sat in a corner with a plastic cup of weak tea as she
watched her son play with the other children. Happy shouts echoed around the
sports hall as the children ran around with confidence in the place they played
regularly, made new by the presence of streamers and balloons.
“How’s little Joey doing?” asked Kate, one of the regular
mothers on what Joanne had come to think of as the circuit.
“Joe? He’s fine thanks,” and knew she was obliged to ask,
“How are your two?” Kate sighed theatrically,
“Oh you know, exhausting, but wonderful of course. Wouldn’t
change it for the world. Bertie has settled into nursery at last, he still
clings to Alice but it’s the best thing for them isn’t it? You have to let them
socialise.”
Joanne nodded, Kate was what Tom called a Professional Mum; it was the only thing
she did and all she could talk about; taking them to classes, documenting each
and every moment with a digital camera, visiting to specialist after specialist
as if her young, robust children were as rare and precious as antiques. Kate
tilted her head as she continued in the soft baby voice that Joanne suspected
she had adopted as part of her role.
“I suppose Joe must be very comfortable there, having been
going to crèche for so long since you went back to work so soon.”
“Yes, he loves it there.”
“It must be so tiring for you, though. Working and raising a
child, which we know is the hardest job in the world. There’s so much to do and
it’s so important to give them this time, don’t you think? I don’t know how you
do it.”
People talked about the impact of the first baby and how it
changed things forever and although she and her husband Tom had felt the early
shockwaves of a newborn, Joanne had settled easily into a new pace as if Joe had
always meant to be a part of their lives. Three years on, the only part she had
struggled to get used to was this new society of motherhood. Joe was an easy
baby who grew to be a happy child, he slept well and fussed rarely; she could
not join in with the conversations comparing sleep loss and the other mothers
eyed her with suspicion for the speed with which she had recovered her figure.
To Joanne, her son was a part of her life as natural as her own beating heart and
she could not join in with the relish over the more unpleasant parts of motherhood.
They recounted a night of their child vomiting as if the difficulty elevated
them somehow – they had rushed to the sidelines in order to put their children
in the spotlight and then jostled for position within the group of mothers who
all had their own tales to tell. They all sounded like they were playing at
grown-ups.
“I’m going to get more tea, would you like one?” she asked
as the small girl, Alice, ran towards Kate and wiped her snotty face on the
edge of her Mum’s shapeless t-shirt.
“Tea? Oh no, thank you. I’ll never get a chance to drink it
with these two running about.” Kate kneeled to wipe Alice’s face gently and the
contrast between her daughter’s colourful party clothes and her own dowdy
appearance seemed designed to chastise Joanne as she walked towards the kitchen
in her tailored jeans, the bright beads of her necklace clicking with each
step.
“Been talking to Supermum?” asked Judy, another of the
regulars on the circuit. She worked at home, making theatre costumes while her
husband, an actor, spent a lot of time away. Most of the group frowned on the
chaotic way she lived her life; her son Ellis never attended any classes with
regularity. She looked constantly untidy and crumpled but unlike the others who
had adopted the look as a uniform – expensive linens crumpled and streaked with
stains like the ribbons from a battle commission – it looked like her natural
state.
“Kate? Yep. Still thinks giving up work is the best thing
she’s ever done.” Judy laughed and rolled her eyes.
“I wonder who she’s trying to convince with all that. Here’s
your tea. Listen can you keep an eye on Ellis while I pop out and have a smoke?
These parties do my head in, Ellis likes them but really, 20 three year old
kids in an echoing hall is not my idea of fun.”
“Sure.” Joanne wandered back to the main hall and looked out
for Ellis, dressed inexplicably as a tiny policeman - it wasn’t a fancy dress
party – as he danced with a group of girls. She could see Judy through the
window of the hall and then turned to watch the collective beam of disapproval
from the other women as they watched Judy snatch a moment of peace. She took a
seat to watch the children play and ran through a list of chores in her mind as
she calculated the time she would have once the party was finished. Already the
organisers were gathering and getting ready to pack the equipment away; she
might have time to get to the supermarket.
“Mummy!” Joe waved and smiled as he took a leap from the
climbing frame and landed easily on the soft mats. Joanne smiled back as he
disappeared into a long tunnel. She watched the canvas shudder as he crawled
through and then waited as the movement stopped. A whistle blew and the party
was ending. The rustling in the tunnel began again and Joe emerged. Joanne
waved, but her hand was stilled as she saw him. He stood quickly and his stance
was rigid and unfamiliar. Even from across the room, Joanne could tell that
something was wrong. It was like the difference between sunshine and the flash
of a fluorescent bulb, those eyes, his usually gentle features set sharp and
watchful. He caught her staring and walked over, silently taking her hand;
Joanne had to suppress a shudder as an aching chill crept through her from the
touch of his tiny hand in hers.
Distracted, Joanne collected his coat and shoes, thanked the
party organisers and left without offering to help with the clear up. She
strapped Joe into his chair in the back of the car and put a Disney CD on loud
as she drove to the supermarket. The bright lights and tannoy announcements
were welcome signs of familiarity; she bought Joe too many small gifts and food
they didn’t need as she walked around, avoiding his gaze as he stared back mutely
from his seat in the trolley.
Joanne was grateful to see he had fallen asleep on the way
home from the supermarket; she left Tom lift him from his seat and carry him to
bed while she brought in the shopping. When he came back downstairs, he opened
a bottle of wine and set a large glass on the table in front of her.
“Good party? You look shattered – the Mum Mafia get at you
again?” Joanne gulped down the chilled wine and smiled,
“Something like that. Did you get much done while we were
out?”
“Mowed the lawn, finally put up that shelf you’ve been going
on about and then sat down with a beer and a book.”
“Oh, a beer and a book, huh? How I wish I had time for a
book. It’s just so exhausting being a Mum you know Tom. Hardest job in the
world.” She grinned and felt the tension from earlier ease away from her
shoulders.
“Of course you wouldn’t change it,” said Tom as he wound his
hands around her waist and kissed her neck. “Fuck those other Mums,” he
whispered fiercely into her ear as he pulled her closer. “You’re doing a great
job with Joe. And while he’s asleep...” Joanne turned to kiss him, his taste
mixing with the wine in a familiar sensual pleasure.
“Early night?” she said, collecting her glass and the wine
bottle before dropping the shopping back in the bag and walking with a gentle
sway towards the stairs.
In the morning, Joanne awoke to an unfamiliar silence. She
rolled over to find a note on Tom’s pillow. He had taken Joe out for the
morning so she could sleep in, and reminded her that their parents would be
arriving later for Sunday lunch. Joanne rolled back and luxuriated in the bed
and her deliciously aching limbs, enjoying the silence in the house. She took
her time getting up and then pottered happily in the kitchen with the radio in
the background. With the joint in the oven and all the vegetables prepared, she
took a long bath, breathing in the scented bubbles.
She was still upstairs when she heard the front door pull
closed.
“We’re home; found these stragglers on the doorstep.”
“Oh, hello Mum, Dad. Sorry, didn’t hear you, I was just
drying my hair. Come in, sit down.”
“That’s alright love. We just got here. Tom was telling us
he’s been to the park with the little ‘un. Didn’t you want to go? Must be nice
to get a lie in, I never got that with the four of you...” Tom came to the
rescue, thrusting a large glass of wine in his mother-in-law’s hand before
answering the door to his own parents.
“We take it in turns,” said Joanne. “I took him to a party
yesterday and he got some time to himself, so he did the same. Joe loves it at
the park.” She ruffled his hair, “Did you have a nice time at the park, Joe?
Did Daddy push you really high on the swings again so you could fly?” Joe
looked up at her and again Joanne was reminded of the scene at the party the
day before; those eyes, so cold and unfamiliar.
“It’s not really flying, Mummy, he said simply. “I’m safe
with Daddy. Daddy is safe.”
“I know love, I’ll... Why don’t you go and say hello to
Granny and Granddad, and there’s Nanny and Pa. Mummy’s just got to go and check
on the lunch.” There was nothing to check in the kitchen. Tom entered soon
after her.
“Dad’s beer in the fridge? Ah, here it is. You OK, jaybird?”
“Yes fine. Just Mum, you know. Can’t wait to tell me how
much harder she had it. Thanks for taking Joe this morning, I needed that lie
in. I wanted to talk to you about yesterday, at the party-“
“Dying of thirst out here!”
“Tell me later, yeah? Coming Dad.”
Joanne took every opportunity to go back to the kitchen
during the lunch; Joe was quiet and seemed sullen to her, although no one else
commented on it. They assumed his run in the park had tired him and he was
excused from the table early to play after pushing his food round the plate.
Joanne avoided him all afternoon, she let the grandparents fuss over him and
then urged Tom to bathe him and put him to bed while she cleaned up the
kitchen.
Later that evening, Joanne and Tom put on a DVD and although
she had been previously hooked on the series, Joanne found she couldn’t
concentrate.
“Tom, do you think Joe’s OK?”
“Mmm?” Tom’s eyes didn’t leave the screen.
“Tom, seriously. Does he seem odd to you?” Joanne took the
remote control and pressed pause.
“What? What are you doing? No, he seems fine to me. Bit
quiet but he ran around like a mad thing at the park. Has he told you he’s not
feeling right?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s just at the party yesterday...
I don’t know. I think something happened and he seems sort of different, don’t
you think?”
“What happened? Did he fall? Was there a problem with one of
the other kids?”
“No, he was fine, the other kids were fine. He just seems, I
don’t know, not himself.”
“He’s fine. You’re just letting all those Mums get to you
with their milestones and their supermum crap. He’s fine. I don’t know why you
let them get to you. We’re a happy family and I don’t care what anyone thinks.
We’re doing OK, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, we’re doing OK. Sorry, it’s nothing.” She moved
closer to Tom and re-started the DVD. “Just one more episode after this. Work
in the morning.”
Joanne had got used to waking up early because of Joe; he
would clamber on the bed and push Tom’s glasses onto his face saying,
“You’re awake now Daddy, you can see.”
On Monday she woke naturally and then gave a start as she
saw Joe standing by her side of the bed, staring.
“You’re awake now Mummy,” he said.
“Yes love, I’m awake. Shall we wake up Daddy as well, time
for us all to rise and shine!” In her head, her voice sounded shrill and she
bit back a rising panic which didn’t ease until Tom woke up. In the usual morning rush, she forgot the
feeling but as she dropped Joe at the nursery she stopped one of the carers.
“Joes been a bit quiet the last couple of days, Lizzie.
Could be nothing, we’ve had a busy weekend but can you just keep an eye on him?
Call me if you think he’s getting ill or anything.”
“Of course, we’ve got your work number. If we have any
concerns, we’ll give you a call. Come on Joe, shall I take that bag for you?”
Joe took her hand and Joanne saw her flinch and move away before Joe insisted
and she took his hand warily. Joanne watched them walk together; there was an unfamiliar
motion to his gait that made her uneasy.
The week continued and Joanne pushed her concerns to the
back of her mind. As she collected Joe from nursery on Friday afternoon, she
was thinking of nothing but the two empty days stretching ahead. Joe was
collecting his tiny rucksack and jacket from a peg as she approached him. She
saw Lizzie behind the reception desk, her eyes red as if she’d been crying.
“Everything OK Lizzie?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, it’s my last day today, it’s been a
bit... you know.” Lizzie dropped her eyes to the floor.
“I’m sorry to hear that, I know Joe loves you. Wherever
you’re going next, they’re lucky to have you.”
“Oh thank you. Well, I don’t have anywhere yet, it’s all
been a bit sudden really.” Lizzie rushed into the back office, leaving Joanne
to call out,
“Good luck Lizzie, thank you!” Joe came to walk alongside
her. She took one of the straps of the rucksack as they left the nursery – over
the last week she had dropped her insistence on holding his hand across the
busy car park and they had reached this unspoken compromise, each holding a
strap while the bag filled the space between them.
“That’s sad about Lizzie going isn’t it? Did you say
goodbye?”
“Yes, I said goodbye and I said sorry but I don’t think she
listened to me.”
“Sorry? You don’t have to say sorry, Joe. Things happen, and
sometimes those things are sad but they’re not your fault.”
Joanne mentioned Lizzie’s departure to Tom once Joe had been
put to bed,
“It all seems a bit sudden, do you think there was anything
going on? Do you think I should try to speak to someone on Monday?”
“No, I’m sure it’s fine. If there had been any serious problems
they would have told us. It’s a shame; Joe seemed to get on really well with
her. Maybe that’s why he’s been quiet this past week, he’s picked up on
something going on there. Most likely there’s been a personality clash and
Lizzie got pushed out. Kids are sensitive to things like that.”
“So you think he’s been quiet?”
“Well, a bit. The way he just stands and waits for you in
the morning seems a bit out of character – not that I miss getting twenty new
bruises and a poke in the eye before breakfast but he just seems a bit, I don’t
know, restrained. I’m sure once this Lizzie thing blows over it will all be
fine. Listen, there’s a kids’ showing at the cinema tomorrow morning, why don’t
we take Joe as a treat, cheer him up a bit?”
Joanne was surprised at the intensity of her relief that Tom
had acknowledged something wasn’t right. She wasn’t certain it was sadness,
like him; she could not forget the image of him so fierce and cold at the party
the week before, how he had corrected his stance when he saw her watching, but
she clutched gratefully to this new reason. She felt a wave of guilt at wishing
sadness on her son.
“Sounds great, I’ll book the tickets tonight.”
Joe settled happily between them at the cinema, perched on a
plastic booster seat. Joanne and Tom smiled at each other over his head as the
lights dimmed. Halfway through the film, Joe asked to sit on Joanne’s lap. She
moved him smoothly onto her knee and leaned forward to inhale the scent of his
hair. He rested heavily on her chest and started to move his hands up and down
her legs. She was wearing soft fleece jogging bottoms that day and the material
bunched and released as he moved his hands. He kept his eyes on the screen but
continued to move his small hands over the tactile fabric. The sensation made
Joanne uneasy and after a short time she lifted his hands gently and put them
in his lap. He looked round at her, glass button eyes shining in the dark
before he resumed, drawing unseen patterns on her leg. The sensation made her
skin crawl; abruptly she handed the boy to her husband and said she had to go,
only just making it to the toilet in time to be sick. She lowered the lid
before sitting down to cry, deep heaving sobs that surprised her in their
violence. It was some time before she was able to stop and then she washed her
face and emerged just in time to see Tom and Joe leaving the cinema.
“Are you alright love? You were gone ages.”
“You missed the end of the film, Mummy. The penguins were OK
in the end weren’t they Daddy?”
“Yes Joe, the penguins were OK in the end. Seriously
jaybird, are you OK? You’re white as a sheet.”
“I... I don’t know.” She looked briefly at Joe and
shuddered. He stood there like a replica, a painfully accurate rendering of her
son.
“I think maybe I’ve got a bug or something. I should go home
– if I give you the list, can you get the shopping?”
“We can get that another time, why don’t we all go home and
–“
“No!” Joanne lowered her voice, “No really, no need to spoil
your day. I’ll jump on a bus and go home, tuck myself in bed and sleep it off.
You boys go and have fun.”
She met Judy at the bus stop.
“Hi Joanne. No Joe today – time off for good behaviour is
it?”
“Not really, I’m not feeling too well. I’ve left the boys to
it so I can go home and rest.”
“Now that you say it, you do look pale. Will you be alright,
I could – Ellis! Will you stop that? Mummy is trying to talk to Joe’s Mummy.
Thank you. Sorry, anyway. Do you want to pop over for a cup of tea before you
go home, or would you rather go straight to bed?”
“A cup of tea would be lovely, actually. It would be nice to
catch up. I don’t think it’s anything catching, most likely just overdoing it,
you know.”
“Oh don’t worry about that. Ellis brings home every bug
known to man whenever he goes out, we’re all getting immune to it these days.”
Joanne helped Judy onto the bus with all her shopping and
looked enviously as she chattered easily with Ellis for the journey home,
pointing out sights from the window, tickling and teasing him. She had been like
this before, she knew. Tears fell before she could stop them and she turned to
look out of the opposite window as the scene moved from the traffic of the town
centre to the parks and houses of the suburbs.
“Right, Ellis is in the garden. We can have a nice cup of
tea in peace.” Joanne loved the cluttered house where Judy lived; it was not to
her taste but she always felt comfortable here and she relaxed into a worn
armchair with a large, heavy mug cradled in her hands.
“Thanks Judy. This is perfect. I don’t know what came over
me, we were just in the cinema and all of a sudden I had to be sick, I-“
“You don’t think you’re, you know? Are you trying for
another one?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. We’re really happy with one. Joe
is all we-“ Again the tears started to fall.
“Oh my god, Joanne, what’s wrong? Is something wrong with
Joe?”
“Yes. Well, no. I don’t know. Something’s wrong but I
can’t... I don’t... It sounds crazy, but that boy, he’s not my son anymore.
Something happened at that party, he’s just... I was sick because he was
sitting on my lap, rubbing at the fabric on my trousers and it was like he was pushing
against the grain of my skin. There’s something, I don’t know... something broken inside him.”
“Oh Joanne, we all feel like that sometimes. I could
cheerfully throttle Ellis a lot of the time, he’s a little monster and the tantrums,
seriously. It’s like something from the Exorcist. It’s all this motherhood crap
they feed up these days, we’re supposed to see the light and realise we just
want to serve our children, it’s all bullshit. Give yourself a break, really.”
“But it’s not, he’s not really naughty or anything. I can’t
explain it, he’s just not...” she lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper,
compelled but afraid to speak the words out loud. “He’s just not my boy.”
“They change, Joanne. These early years, they change so
much. Ben says he finds a different child every time he comes back. It will
settle down.”
“And when’s Ben back?” Shocked at her confession, Joanne
took the chance to change the subject as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
“Two weeks, thank God. He’s been in Rep in Liverpool, then
he’s got an audition for a costume drama which is more local. Fingers crossed
for that one. Listen, about Joe... Hang on, it’s gone quiet in the garden, I’ll
be back in a minute.” Judy placed the mug carefully on the table with her
shaking hands and then rose unsteadily to her feet. She called out,
“Thanks for the tea. I’m just going to go home if that’s OK?
I probably just need some sleep.”
“Don’t we all?” Judy called back laughing. “When Ben gets
back we should go out for a drink or something, just be people again instead of
Mummies. Ellis! No! Worms are not for eating, put that down!”
At home, Joanne drew the bedroom curtains and crawled into
bed still wearing her clothes. She stared for sleepless hours at the ceiling,
but when Tom and Joe returned she closed her eyes.
“She’s not sleeping, Daddy. She’s just pretending.” Joanne
stiffened under the duvet.
“No Joe. Mummy is just a bit poorly.”
“Mummy doesn’t love me.”
“Of course Mummy loves you, she just needs to sleep now so
that she will be better in the morning.”
Joanne didn’t exhale until the bedroom door had been firmly
closed.
“Maybe you should go to the doctor, love?”
It was Sunday evening and Joanne had not got out of bed for
the rest of the weekend, sleeping sporadically for a few hours at a time
through the weekend. Each time she awoke, day or night, Joe would be standing
by the side of the bed and would call out “Mummy’s
awake now,” and the fear would spread with a rasping insistence through her
limbs and make her shiver.
“Maybe. I’ll see how I am in the morning.”
“Don’t go into work, love. I know how you feel about it, but
you’ve got to get better and you’re always doing too much.”
“I’m not... this is nothing to do with work, it’s just a bug
that’s all.”
“I know, I’m just saying, take the day off. The place won’t
fall down without you.”
“OK, OK, I’ll go to the doctor.”
The doctor found nothing wrong with her and Joanne went back
to work, still exhausted and pale. Images of Joe haunted her fractured dreams,
she saw him as if through heavy-paned double glazing, two identical boys
overlapping and staring back at her, the faded image with lost sad eyes a step
behind while the Joe at the front glared with unwavering disgust. She returned
to the doctor a week later at Tom’s insistence; he had been keeping the house
running, taking Joe to nursery, cooking the meals for them all and while he
never complained, Joanne knew it was unfair. She tried to explain the problem
to the doctor, who spoke to her kindly but with little understanding.
“Now, life can get overwhelming at times and little ones are
really demanding. Perhaps I can prescribe something for the stress and if
you’re worried about Joe we can give him a check up?”
Joanne took the pills and nothing changed; Joe’s glassy eyed
stare continued to cut through the fog in her mind. He was at once more
brightly coloured and more muted, like a two-dimensional cartoon of her son, a
rendering as precise as a knife point. There were rounds of redundancies at
work and she took a generous offer without protest. Offers from competing firms
followed almost instantly but she put them off, stilled by her own silent
mourning.
“I think you should take some time anyway, love. You’ve been
flat out ever since Joe was born and a few months off will do you good. Joe’s
started to notice how distant you’ve been and I know it’s not your fault but it
will be good for all of us to just slow down a bit. You’ve got a good redundancy
package, maybe it’s time for a change?”
“Joe has started to notice? What has he said?”
“Oh nothing, just little kid stuff. He’s worried you don’t
love him or that you want him to go away. I don’t know, maybe that thing with
Lizzie leaving the nursery really upset him.”
“But does he... does he worry about you the same way?”
“No, he’s fine really. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“There is
something wrong, Tom. Something with Joe, he’s not my boy. He feels all wrong.
I know my Joe and that boy upstairs,” she looked up to the ceiling towards his
room and whispered, “That boy is not my son.”
Tom shook his head sadly.
“He is your boy,
jaybird, and he loves you. Just spend more time with him, you’ll see.”
Joanne still took Joe to nursery each morning; she told Tom
she wanted to keep things normal for Joe and kept the relief she felt to
herself as she dropped him off. She went to the gym and ran on a treadmill for
hour after hour. In the afternoons, she went to the library and scoured medical
texts. She took Joe out of nursery for one afternoon to see the doctor, and
from there she was referred to specialist after specialist. Each one announced
there was nothing wrong with her son and went on to ask if she had been under
any strain recently. She tried a church group and found the same response.
Joanne pushed herself harder at the gym and started answering calls from
recruiters.
“Joanne, what the hell is going on?” Tom had never raised
his voice to her before and she shrank back at the volume. He lowered his voice
to a vicious whisper. “I’ve just put Joe to bed and he says he’s glad you’re
going to a new job so that he doesn’t have to go to the doctors any more and he
doesn’t like the people asking all the questions. Just what the hell is going
on?”
“I just... I told you, something is wrong and I was just
trying... That’s not Joe, Tom. Why can’t you see it?”
“So you just did this – you took another job, took him to
the bloody doctor and you didn’t even tell me? This has to stop, Joanne. It has
to stop now. There is nothing wrong with Joe. You need help or something. Or
maybe you just don’t want us any more, is that it?”
Us. The word pierced Joanne and she felt a crushing isolation.
“Of course I want... I want you both,” she stammered
desperately, pleading a headache before taking a pill and going to bed early.
The morning light came pale through the curtains.
“Mummy’s awake.”
“Yes Joe, Mummy’s awake. Now shall we wake Daddy together?”
She pulled the duvet roughly from the bed.
“Come on Daddy, wake up! It’s the weekend and Joe’s got a
party to go to, haven’t you?” Tom groaned.
“You take him. I’ve been late at work all week. Please?” She
thought of his bitter words the night before and the threat they implied.
“OK, Daddy can sleep. Let’s get you ready, short stuff.” She
swallowed her nausea as she dressed him, but Joe took a long time and his
careful deliberation felt like malice.
Joanne pulled into the car park and as ever when she drove
Joe, she felt his eyes burning into her back. She stopped abruptly and got out
of the car, gulping fresh air. She felt his eyes on her from the back window
and straightened her back.
“Lizzie!” The girl turned and Joanne saw a reflection of her
own fear in the young carer, who hunched her shoulders, turned away and walked
with fast determination from car park, leaving Joanne alone. She turned and
opened the car door, letting Joe out of his seat.
“Mummy, was that Lizzie, where is she going?”
“Lizzie had to go; she was just in a rush.”
“Lizzie hates me. Lizzie hates me and you hate me, don’t you
Mummy?” Joanne steeled herself against tears and handed him the birthday gift.
“I don’t hate you Joe. No one hates you.” She stood close
enough to feel his breath on her skin, her chest tight and twisted with the
heat of her fear.
“I love you Joe.”
“You’re a liar Mummy. Liars are bad. Can I go to the party
now?” He ran to join Ellis, who was whirling around in a long cloak and stopped
dizzily when Joe called his name. Judy’s husband Ben emerged from the kitchen,
“Oh hello. Joanne, right? I almost didn’t recognise you, you
look like the rest of them!” Joanne looked down at her faded and crumpled
clothes and self consciously smoothed down her hair. Joanne saw Judy shoot a
warning glance at Ben, who said quickly,
“Just getting a tea, did you want one?”
“No, no thanks. I think I’ll just watch Joe for a while if
that’s OK.” She moved away from her friends and went to stand closer to the
play area, joining the cordon of vigilant mothers who had refused a seat.
“Look Mummy!” Joe stood at the entrance to the canvas
tunnel. His eyes were flecks of ice, his sweet face twisted into a sneer of
triumph. “Look at me Mummy.”
He knelt down and crawled into the tunnel. Joanne looked
away.
