From Dark Places (7 page)

She heard the telephone conversation finish and paused to look at Claire as she came over and crouched next to her.

“That was your Daddy,” Claire said cheerily. “Everything is fine, he’s just running a bit late.”

Abby nodded, returning to the painting. “Did Daddy’s car break again?”

Claire nodded. “He’s waiting for the nice man from the garage to pick him up with a special truck. He won’t be long. What are you painting?”

“A new car for Daddy,” Abby replied. “It’s red. And it doesn’t break.”

Claire moved behind her to admire the daubs of paint. “What a lovely picture! When you’ve finished, we’ll put it on your special peg to dry, shall we?”

Abby smiled and nodded, returning to the task as the scary nursery owner entered.

“Is Mr Wakefield late again?” At Claire’s nod the nursery owner tutted. “That’s the third time this month, I thought the late fee would mend his ways.”

“His car broke down, it’s not his fault.”

The elderly woman smiled wryly. “It’s only your first month, believe me, when you’ve been doing this for years you’ll curse the ones who are always late.”

“I really don’t mind,” Claire shrugged.

“And no flirting,” the nursery owner said, stopping at the door. “I saw you last time he was late.”

Claire poked her tongue out at the old woman’s back and Abby giggled. Claire winked at her and Abby smiled back. She liked Claire, she was nice.

The next morning, Abby watched her father stick the painting on the fridge, over the recycling timetable. “It’s a great car Abby. I love it.”

She beamed at him. “Will the nice man from the garage fix our car?”

He nodded, sliding into the chair opposite her. “He will, today hopefully. I need it this afternoon.”

“What if he can’t fix it? Will it go to Mummy?”

The knife stopped halfway across his toast. He swallowed and shut his eyes briefly. “What do you mean, darling?”

“If the car dies, will it go to heaven for Mummy to drive?”

He resumed the spreading. “Yes, darling. Yes, it will.”

Satisfied, Abby swung her legs happily, sipping her orange juice. “It won’t break in heaven. Mummy will never be late.”

The doorbell rang and she watched him answer it. The conversation sounded strange, so she slid off her chair to trail after him. A man in a suit stood on the doorstep, a big smile on his face. Other men crowded behind with big cameras.

“Yes, I’m Mr Wakefield.”

“Congratulations!” the man said, his voice as loud as the scary nursery owner when she was angry. Abby didn’t like him. “You’ve won the Herald and Star first prize!”

“I haven’t entered any–”

“And you’ve won…” The man stepped aside, gesturing like a circus master towards a shiny, red car parked in the drive, a huge bow tied across the bonnet made of ribbon large enough for a giant’s wife. “…an Audi TT!”

“Is this some sort of stupid joke?”

“No, Mr Wakefield. Here is the key and registration documents, all we require is a signature to use your photo in our publicity.”

Abby watched her daddy look at the paperwork and then whoop and punch the air, like he did when he watched the football with Uncle Frank.

“Abby!” he ran back, picked her up and rushed out to the driveway. “Look! A new car for Daddy!”

She laughed and threw her arms around his neck. “I love it Daddy! It’s red like a strawberry!”

A week later, Abby was the last child left in the nursery again. Claire sat next to her, keeping her company as she painted.

“But why is Daddy at the bank?” Abby whined. “He said he would be here early.”

“He said the bank manager was running late with his appointments, but he’ll be here soon. I’m sure it’s very important.”

“What does a bank manager do?” Abby asked peevishly.

“He looks after money. And sometimes he lets people borrow it from him.”

Abby sighed. “I hate money,” she grumbled. “Money makes Daddy grumpy. He says if money was better, we’d have ice creams and a puppy.” Claire left her side to tidy away the books. “Do you hate money?”

Claire shook her head. “No, but like your Daddy, I wish I had more of it!”

“So do I!” Abby declared, discarding her current painting and picking out a clean sheet. “I’m going to paint Daddy a big pile of money.”

Claire drifted over to stand at her shoulder, watching the daubs take shape. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing.

“That’s our house.”

“Oh, yes… I see it now. So what’s that?”

“That’s the big pile of money for Daddy,” Abby turned to Claire and grinned. “It’s bigger than our house!” After a few more dabs, she said; “And this is Daddy, and he is very happy, and that’s me, and that’s Uncle Frank.”

“What a lovely picture! We’ll put it on your special peg to dry, shall we?”

Abby tugged at her father’s trouser leg. “Daddy, why haven’t you put my picture up yet?”

He leant against the kitchen counter, looking at boring bits of paper and drinking coffee. “Daddy’s busy right now darling, so go and play, ok?”

“No, Daddy, you need to put it up now!”

“In a minute.”

“Now, Daddy, now!”

“Abby, go and play!” He shouted so loud it made tears come. He put the mug down, pinched the skin at the top of his nose and sighed. He gathered her into his arms. “I’m sorry, darling, Daddy’s just tired, that’s all. Where’s the picture? You go get it and we’ll put it up.”

By the time the picture hung in a prime position, the tears had gone. “Ok, Abby, go and play now, I have to make an important phone call.” He sighed, picking the mug back up again. “Daddy has to sell the car.”

Abby sloped off to the living room and found Bear. Maybe he would know what to do. Daddy looked so sad.

She watched him hurry in, rifle through the magazine rack and pull out the local paper. No fun today.

The phone rang and he picked it up.

“Hello? Yes, speaking.”

She wondered if it might be Mummy. Daddy’s face went white and he sat down heavily. She hurried over to climb onto his lap and cuddle him.

“Are you sure this isn’t a mistake? I didn’t even know her.”

Abby rested her head on his chest and listened to the booming heartbeat. It sounded like the train they went on the day before. Ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump, so fast!

The call finished and he lifted her off his lap to hold her at arm’s length. She felt his hands shaking.

“Are you poorly, Daddy?”

He shook his head and started to smile. “No—I’m just—I’ve had some news—I need to call Uncle Frank.” He tapped the speed dial.

“Can I speak to him too, Daddy?”

He nodded. “Frank, you won’t believe this. I’ve just spoken to my cousin. I’ve been left over five million pounds in a will!”

She heard a loud noise come through the handset.

“Have you got lots of money now, Daddy?”

 She jumped up and down, cheering at his distracted nod. Once all the cheers were out, she took the phone.

“Hello, Uncle Frank.”

“Your Daddy is the luckiest man on Earth!” Uncle Frank said, laughing. “How are you my favourite princess?”

“I’m happy. I made the car come, and then I made the money come. I painted them!”

Before Uncle Frank could reply, her father took the handset and ruffled her hair. “I know, kids,” he chuckled. “It was a great aunt I didn’t even know I had. I mean, what are the odds?!”

Abby waved at her father and looked up at Claire. Seeing the look on her face, Claire crouched down to untie Abby’s pink and purple scarf.

“Are you ok, Abby?”

Abby pouted. “Daddy was crying.” When Claire leant back on her heels, Abby continued as the other children raced into the play area. “He misses Mummy. I miss her too. But Daddy says she can’t come back from heaven.”

Claire tipped her head to one side and put a hand on her shoulder. “That sounds sad. It’s ok to be sad and cry sometimes.”

Abby pouted again. “I thought Daddy would be happy now he has a red car and lots of money. But he’s not.”

“How about you do some painting? You enjoy that.”

“I don’t want to. I painted a pony and a castle and the tallest tree in the world and ten puppies and none of them came. Painting doesn’t work.”

Claire frowned. “It can still make us feel better though. Why don’t you paint someone that might make Daddy feel better?”

Abby took a deep breath, puffed it out and nodded. “Okay.”

Later that morning, Abby was pleased to see Claire wave her over. “Look! I’ve painted a new Mummy for Daddy!”

Claire knelt down next to her. “Oh yes! Shall we make it an extra special painting?” Abby nodded. “Some of the other children are sticking things to their paintings. Shall we give your new Mummy some real hair? You could use some of mine if you like.”

Abby grinned. “Yes! I want it to be yellow like yours!”

Claire laughed. “It’s called blonde.” Abby watched her go to the crafting box on the high shelf and get some scissors and glue. She snipped a lock of hair and returned to the painting. “Shall I stick it on her?”

Abby clapped as the painted woman acquired golden hair. “I like that!”

“What a lovely picture!” Claire enthused. “We’ll put it on your special peg to dry, shall we?”

Abby woke at the sound of her father shouting. She lay in bed, listening hard, hearing Uncle Frank’s raised voice too. She grew nervous, it didn’t sound like football shouting. It sounded like Daddy was angry. She slipped out of bed and padded to the top of the stairs to listen in.

“You’ve only been seeing her for a couple of months! Don’t you think buying a house together is a bit premature?”

“Jesus, who gave you the right to decide who I buy a house with?”

Abby chewed her lip. Daddy only spoke to Jesus when he was really angry.

“I’m only thinking about Abby. It’s too soon for her.”

“She knows Claire—she’s known her longer than I have, it’s not like she’s a stranger. She’s been living on this estate for years, I just never noticed her.”

“And it’s just a coincidence that this starts after you become a millionaire?” There was a pause. “Look, don’t you think you should wait until you know if this is going to go anywhere?”

“I already know I love her and I want to be with someone again, and if you don’t like it, piss off!”

Abby cuddled Bear tightly. Uncle Frank stomped down the hallway, grabbed his coat and left. She buried her face into Bear’s tummy and hoped desperately Uncle Frank wouldn’t go to heaven too.

It would be her last month in the nursery, her father told her at breakfast. Soon they would be moving away to a very big house in the countryside where there were cows and sheep. Abby brooded on this as she hung her coat up. Around her other children babbled to each other and said goodbye to their mothers. She watched Claire helping them take their coats off and scowled.

Daddy said Claire was coming too. It wasn’t fair. Daddy spent all his time with Claire now, and Uncle Frank never came to visit. If there were only cows and sheep in the country, who would she play with?

“Painting time!” Claire called out and the children cheered and ran to the crafts area. Abby dawdled behind them, avoiding Claire. Another of the care assistants tied on a painting apron and placed a blank sheet of paper in front of her.

That’s when Abby had the idea. She grabbed a paintbrush and began painting a car. A really big one, like Billy’s Mum drove. Then she painted the pavement. Then Claire, lying on it, just like Mummy had the day she went to heaven. She dragged the red paint pot closer. She needed lots of red because there had to be lots of blood.

“What are you painting Abby?” Claire had snuck up behind her.

“A car.”

“What’s this?”

“…flowers. They’re red ones.”

Abby looked over her shoulder. Claire frowned at the picture. The frown broke into a smile, but it didn’t make Abby want to smile back.

Abby painted and Claire watched. She would have stuck hair onto it, but she didn’t have scissors or glue, so the yellow would have to do. At one point she thought she heard a snip of scissors behind her, but when she turned around Claire was talking to one of the other children.

“Story time!” Claire called.

The children stopped painting and ran to the carpet. All through story time, Abby looked at the picture. When she played in the sandpit she thought about it. When it was her turn to make a witch’s hat for Halloween she checked it was still there.

It looked different.

She went over and saw the hair was brown now, not yellow, and the dress was a blue one, like hers, not green like Claire’s dress. Claire was rummaging in the craft cupboard and returned with some glue.

“I’m just putting on some finishing touches,” she said cheerily, and stuck on some brown hair, just like Abby’s.

Abby pouted.

“But that’s my picture.”

Claire ignored her, standing back to admire it.

“What a lovely picture! We’ll put it on your special peg to dry, shall we?”

Abby trailed after her to watch the painting clipped onto her peg. When Claire went away, she tried to pull it down but it was too high. She began to cry, but the other care assistants told her to stop being silly, and took her back to the sandpit.

By the time Daddy came to pick her up, Abby was desperate to leave. Claire told her he was just outside, so she ran out with her coat half on, just to hug him before he saw Claire. He was parked on the other side of the street, locking the car door.

“Daddy!” she called and started to run over to him. She was halfway across the road when she heard her name.

“Abby!”

She stopped and turned. Claire stood in the nursery door. “You forgot your painting!”

A horrible screeching sound. A loud bang. Everything upside down and round and round. Then it hurt. Everywhere.

Abby heard Daddy yelling. Others screaming. She tried to cry. Nothing came out. People crowded around, blocking the blue sky. Faces. All white. Everyone crying, except one.

Claire… she was smiling.

NO SURPRISE