Peony Place. Jules Wake

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СКАЧАТЬ knowing that I had bought a secret bag of bite-sized chocolate treats and a packet of chocolate digestives.

      Of course the dog wanted to follow us and bounded around our legs with playful hopefulness.

      ‘Home, boy,’ said Poppy with more authority than I’d have given her credit for.

      ‘See, he wants to come home with us,’ said Ava tugging on my hand, looking up at me with angelic pleading.

      ‘Well, he’s not.’ It was all I could do not to smile at her cupid-bow mouth quivering in distress and her mercurial change of heart.

      ‘I think he’s probably run away from home because his owners were mean,’ she announced.

      ‘It is odd he hasn’t got a collar on,’ said Poppy, ever thoughtful.

      ‘And it isn’t our problem,’ I said firmly. ‘Just ignore him. Don’t pay him any attention and he’ll soon get bored.’ For some reason, we’d all assigned the dog as male.

      Ava gave me a mutinous stare from under the snarled tangle of curls masquerading as a fringe, her bottom lip standing proud. Any second she was going to dig her heels in and refuse to abandon the dog.

      ‘Home,’ I said, firmly. ‘Biscuits. Chocolate.’ As if she were the dog.

      ‘Okay, then,’ she said and reluctantly followed me. Poppy eyed me with disapproval but trailed after us, throwing backward glances at the dog, who had now got the message and stood whining, its head down and its tail between its legs. It really, really wasn’t my problem but I did wonder for a fleeting second if dogs ate Bolognese sauce. No, I told myself, adorable and needy as he was, I could not add any more into the mix.

      ‘Come on, its owners will probably be searching for him. If we take him home, they won’t be able to find him, will they?’

      ‘I spose not,’ said Poppy, dragging her feet.

      There was plenty of Bolognese sauce; perhaps if I washed the sauce off the mince it would be all right? But then the thought became moot because with a joyful bark, the dog pricked up his ears at the sound of another dog in the distance and ran off.

      Ava was already asking what sort of biscuits I had.

      ‘Why don’t you have a dog, Auntie Claire?’ asked Poppy as I opened the front door, ushering the two of them in and the three of us, the habit already formed, headed towards the kitchen.

      ‘I…’ To be honest, I’d never thought about it before. ‘Well, I’m out at work all the time and it wouldn’t be fair to have a dog if I’m not here. They need company; they get lonely if they’re left on their own all day.’

      ‘Oh, yes. Mummy says you have a very important job.’ I could hear the weight of disapproval in her words. ‘And that you have lots of money.’

      ‘I don’t know about lots of money,’ I said with a half laugh. How did you measure riches? I certainly didn’t have to worry about paying the bills but I wouldn’t be buying a Ferrari anytime soon. ‘But I do earn enough to buy mini-Crunchies.’

      ‘Crunchies!’ squealed Ava. ‘My favourite.’

      ‘No, they’re not,’ said Poppy, her voice full of elder-sister scorn. ‘You said it was Caramel last week. You’re just a piglet.’

      ‘Am not.’ Ava thrust her pink face forward, quivering with indignation. With her riot of pigtail curls, round face, and shrill cry she was rather reminiscent of a sturdy piglet.

      ‘No one will get anything if you carry on bickering,’ I said firmly and they both cast baleful looks my way but they did stop. ‘You need to be nice to each other.’

      ‘I got a picture for you.’ Ava dug through her book bag spilling pieces of paper all over the floor. ‘It’s for your fridge.’ She waved a paint-splodged picture painted on the reverse of a piece of wall paper at me. ‘It’s a caterpillar. We’re doing insects. It’s a hungry caterpillar, like me. You can have it. Mummy has lots already. When is she coming home?’ Ava’s lower lip quivered for real this time.

      Surreptitiously I checked my phone, hoping for a text from Alice. Still no word. What was she playing at?

      ‘Hey there, she’ll be home soon. On Friday. Why don’t we try to Facetime her after tea?’

      Ava’s face crumpled and her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

      ‘Four more sleeps,’ said Poppy patting her sister on the shoulder. ‘That’s all.’

      I gave her a grateful smile, realising that Ava’s concept and understanding of time had yet to develop.

      ‘Yes, four more sleeps. Now where shall I put this picture? I don’t have any fridge magnets.’

      Ava, her attention thankfully diverted, looked around the room wrinkling her nose.

      ‘You need to get some more pictures. It’s not very pretty in here.’

      ‘Ava,’ hissed Poppy. ‘You’re being rude. Remember, Mum says sometimes you’re not supposed to tell people the truth.’

      That sounded so typical of Alice. Why tell the truth when you could get away with the lie? Like telling Dad she’d used his money to pay for a gardener the other day.

      Ava gave a disgruntled huff and put her pudgy, little hands on her hips in a housewifely fashion that had me hiding a smile. ‘Honestly, how am I supposed to know when to tell the truth and when to tell a lie?’

      Poppy shrugged.

      ‘Why don’t I put it here?’ I said loudly, drawing both girls’ attention back to the picture and propping the gaudily splashed painting on the windowsill next to the lone, newly purchased basil plant.

      Ava gave a regal nod of acknowledgement and Poppy shot me a brief smile, grateful to be spared further embarrassment from her sister. I poured them both a glass of juice and unearthed the mini-Crunchie bars from my secret hiding place. They looked so good I had to have one too.

      While they were busy chomping their chocolate, I scooped up all the folded bits of paper, which turned out to be letters from the school about missing library books, overdue dinner money, a second request for money for a school trip to Harewood Bird Garden and a reminder about parent-teacher consultation appointments.

      ‘Have you got letters too, Poppy?’ I asked as the three of us sat at the kitchen table.

      She nodded, shamefaced, and handed over a sheaf of more of the same. I quickly sorted them into piles of things I could do something about and things that could wait until Alice got back next week, and ones that were very overdue demands for money. I then sat and wrote a bunch of cheques while the girls drank juice and ate their Crunchies. Then I went through Ava’s book bag, which was full of rubbish and one letter dated three weeks earlier asking Alice to make an appointment to discuss Ava’s progress. I put that on the pile for Alice, making a mental note to bring it to her attention as soon as she got back.

      What I needed was a to-do list. Once I’d started, everything seemed a lot clearer. I could do this.

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