Mindsight. Chris Curran
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I felt something clutch my knee. The little girl, Molly, was standing, clinging to her mother’s leg and using mine for extra support. Her sticky smile said she wasn’t going to let go without a struggle.
‘She likes you, Clare. You’ll not get away now.’ Nicola turned to the man. ‘Kieran, this is Clare who I was telling you about.’
He smiled and held out his hand. ‘Hello, Clare, nice to meet you. I’m your upstairs neighbour.’ So it wasn’t the ex. Kieran’s hand was warm and dry and I tried to return his smile.
Molly was moving restlessly, giving high-pitched little screams, each one greeted by heavy sighs from the man serving the chips.
‘Clare, you wouldn’t be a darling and take her outside for a minute would you?’ Without waiting for my answer, Nicola peeled the little hand from her own leg and turned the child towards me. ‘Go on, darlin’, go with Clare.’
By now Molly had her hands raised to me, and I had no option but to push my packet of food under my arm and haul her up. She was warm and smelled of sweets, and when she put her arms around my neck and rested her little head on my shoulder something inside me began to ache.
They’d parked the pushchair outside, and Molly clambered from my arms and into it, grabbing a bottle from the seat as she did so and sucking away, her eyes closed with satisfaction. I stood watching her.
Kieran took charge of the pushchair and led the way, stowing their food in a bag hanging from the back and Nicola threaded her arm through mine. ‘This is nice. We can all eat at mine. Kieran’s bought us a bottle, but I’ve got another couple in the fridge.’
‘I’m sorry. That would be lovely, but I can’t, I’ve got an urgent phone call to make.’ It was a lame excuse, but I couldn’t face the thought of socialising, especially with someone as pushy as Nicola. And had I imagined it, or had Kieran’s eyes lingered on me just a fraction too long? I knew it was unlikely anyone would recognise me from newspaper pictures of five years ago, but I made sure to lower my head and let my hair fall across my face as we said goodbye.
Inside, the phone was flashing with a message:
Hi, Clare, it’s me, Emily. I was hoping I’d catch you. Matt says you look great, but he couldn’t get a definite date for a visit out of you. Please, please try to come soon. Once the baby arrives I expect it will be hell here for a bit, so get up here before and we can have time to chat without interruptions. Sorry… rambling… ring me.
It was so lovely to hear her voice that I played the message three times, picking at the fish and chips straight from the bag. When the phone rang I grabbed it, but there was only silence – another cold call. This time I was glad of the interruption because it stopped me dithering. I called Emily’s number. She burst straight into talk. ‘Oh, Clare, it’s wonderful to hear your voice again.’
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