The Astonishing Return of Norah Wells (12 page)

Just before dawn, the world is waking up.

The big dog lies on the landing. He listens to the house tossing and turning and breathing and dreaming.

The little girl, her arms still wrapped around him, dreams that her sister lifts her up and puts her in one of her big black bags and throws her out onto Willoughby Street. She yells for help, but no one comes. And then she hears the light tread of paws on the pavement, and then a claw ripping through the black plastic.

She squeezes the big dog tighter.

I'll find a way to make it all okay. By Sunday, when it's my birthday, everyone will be happy again.
 

The father listens to The Mother Who Stayed breathing beside him. He wants to shake her awake and tell her that he's going to fix things.
But every time he closes his eyes he feels the touch of The Mother Who Left as she sat beside him on the bench last night.

The Mother Who Stayed opens her eyes and looks at the blue-grey light against the white walls. She remembers her little girl's fingers gripping hers last night. And then she feels them melting away.

I'll keep my promise: I won't let you go. I won't let any of you go.
 

Downstairs, The Mother Who Left looks out at a garden and thinks of all the things that have happened since she's been gone.

She touches the scar under her T-shirt, still numb after so many years.

I had to come home, didn't I?
I had no choice.

At the top of the house, the teenage girl climbs out of her window and sits on the scaffolding; her legs dangle over the side. She lights a cigarette. In her other hand she holds a framed photo: her six-year-old self playing her yellow plastic trumpet, Mum playing her real trumpet. They're facing each other, their eyes smiling. They used to do concerts for Dad, up here in the attic, and he'd take photos and make posters as though Ella were a professional trumpeter, like Mum.
My fabulous trumpeting duo,
Dad would say.

She loosens her grip on the frame and lets it fall through her fingers.

I wish you'd never come home,
she says as she watches the frame bounce against the steel rods of the scaffolding.

It keeps falling, down… down… down… until it hits the paving stones of the path below.

The frame splits and the glass smashes into a thousand pieces.

Norah pours cereal into Willa's bowl.

Willa frowns.

‘What's wrong?' Norah asks.

‘I'm not sure I'm allowed those.'

Norah looks at the box. ‘You're not allowed Coco Pops?'

‘Only for special.'

‘Oh. What do you usually have?'

‘Porridge… or yoghurt… or fruit… or a mix…'

Of course. Fay.

‘Porridge it is.' Norah picks up the bowl and starts tipping the Coco Pops back into the box.

Willa puts her hand on Norah's arm. ‘You don't need to put them back.'

‘But you said —'

‘Maybe today
is
special.'

Norah puts the bowl back down.

‘Because you're here,' Willa goes on. ‘When we have guests, Mummy lets us have special things to eat. And you're a guest, aren't you?'

A chocolate-cake-for-breakfast kind of mum,
that's how Fay had described Norah once.

Norah turns away; she can't bear this for much longer. She goes to get the milk from the fridge.

Norah and Willa (and Louis) are the only ones awake, or the only ones downstairs, anyway.

As Willa watches the Coco Pops swirling around in her bowl, she scratches her scar.

‘How did it happen?' Norah asks, sitting beside her. She points at the scar.

‘Oh, this?' Willa bounces up and down in her seat. ‘Didn't Ella tell you?'

Norah shakes her head.

‘It's a cool story.'

‘A story?'

‘Well, I was only six months old, so I don't remember it exactly, but Ella told me what happened. She's the one who saved me – and Louis, he saved me too.'

‘They saved you?'

Willa nods and shoves a spoonful of milky Coco Pops into her mouth. She gulps down the cereal and says:

‘Well, they
say
they saved me, but I think I would have been fine. She didn't mean to.'

‘Who didn't mean to?'

‘You ask lots of questions, don't you?' Willa smiles. ‘Like me.'

Before she can stop herself, Norah leans over and kisses the top of Willa's head.

Willa goes stiff and frowns. Norah has to remember that, as far as Willa's concerned, she's still a stranger.

‘So, who didn't mean to?' Norah asks again.

Willa relaxes. ‘The fox.'

‘What do you mean, the fox?' Norah can't get her head around this. A fox in Willa's room? That kind of thing only happened in the papers. In other people's families – in other people's homes. Or in a little girl's imagination.

Willa puts down her spoon and sits up.

‘Ella and Louis both came into my room at the same time, because they heard something. Ella said that she saw
a flash of red
and she knew, straight away, that something was wrong. Apparently I was standing up in my cot looking at her.'

‘Her?'

‘She was a girl fox. Ella says she can't be sure, but I know she was a girl fox.'

‘What did Ella do?'

‘At first, Ella and Louis were frozen to the spot – Ella says they were in shock – and then, when they saw me reach out and stroke the fox's head —'

‘You stroked the fox's head?'

Willa goes on. ‘I love animals. Foxes especially. So, the fox lowered her ears and moved closer, and that's when Ella and Louis leapt into action. Louis barked and Ella screamed and then they ran forward. And the fox turned her head to face them – her amber eyes shone, or I'm sure they did – and as Ella and Louis came closer she swiped her paw at me. Just here.' Willa strokes the scar. ‘She didn't mean to hurt me.'

‘She didn't?'

‘She was scared.'

Norah thinks of a red paw against Willa's pale skin. The fox's claws out, a tear under her eye. She can't bear to hear much more of this.

‘Weren't you scared?'

‘I fell backwards in my cot, which must have been quite funny because I was wearing one of those sleeping bag things. But no, I didn't cry. And no, I wasn't scared. I think I'd remember.'

‘And then what happened?'

‘The fox tried to leap up over the side of the cot – she wanted to see whether I was okay, but Louis didn't take it that way, so he clambered over the bars, which isn't easy because he's so big, but he did, and he grabbed one of the fox's back legs in his mouth and Ella yanked at the fox's tail. Ella's the bravest person I know.'

‘They really looked after you, Ella and Louis, didn't they?'

‘And Mummy.'

Norah gulps. ‘Yes, and Mummy.'

‘Well, it's a good story, Willa. You really bring it to life.'

Willa shrugs. ‘I've told it lots of times. And when she's not being moody, Ella likes to tell it to me too. We take it turns to fill bits in.'

‘And what did the fox do after that?'

Norah imagines the fox spinning round at Louis, yelping in pain.

‘Louis chased him all the way outside, and Ella went to get Daddy.'

‘Daddy was home?' God, she'd thought Adam must have been out, that it was a night when the girls were being looked after by a babysitter. ‘He was downstairs when this happened?'

Willa hesitates, and then blurts out: ‘Daddy was sleeping on the couch. Ella couldn't wake him up.' Willa blushes. ‘But he would have helped if he could. He hadn't learnt yet.'

‘Learnt what?'

‘To be brave. I'm teaching him to be more like Foxy Fox – but Daddy's much braver than he was before.'

‘Yes, he is.'

‘You knew Daddy, in the old days, didn't you?'

‘A bit, yes.'

‘Anyway, when Ella found Daddy asleep she called Mummy at work and she came in an ambulance to get me so that they could do my stitches.'

And that's when Fay had moved in, wasn't it? When Adam had realised that the girls needed a mum, a proper mum.

Norah hears footsteps in the hallway.

‘For months after the accident, Mummy slept beside me in the camp bed, the one you've been sleeping on, to make sure that the fox didn't come back. And Daddy went to his special meetings so that if it happened again he would wake up.'

And he
had
woken up, hadn't he? Willa was right, he'd learnt to be brave. To be a father. And that would never have happened if Norah had stayed.

‘And you still like foxes?'

‘Of course. Mrs Fox didn't mean to hurt me, like I said. She just got scared.'

Willa climbs off her chair and walks over to the kitchen window. Louis follows her.

‘Did you see the police car?' Willa asks, pointing out of the kitchen window.

By the time Norah joins Willa at the window, two police officers are at the front door.

Fay steps away from the kitchen door.
A police car ?
What on earth?

Just as the bell goes, she reaches the front door.

Ella comes tearing down the stairs to join her, yelling ‘Dad, you'd better come up!' and, a moment later, Adam rushes up from the basement. Norah comes out of the kitchen and stands in the hall.

Adam stares at Ella, who's smiling, and asks her, ‘What the hell's going on,?'

‘I thought they should know.'

‘What are you talking about?' Adam asks. His eyes are bloodshot. He's shattered too.

‘The police. They should know that Mum's not dead.'

‘Who didn't die? And why are the police outside our front door?' Willa stands at the kitchen door, looking at Fay.

Fay's head spins. What a mess. Willa sharing breakfast with
a guest
who just so happens to be the mother who walked out on her when she was a baby; Ella filling bin bags with every memory she's had of Norah; Adam hiding away all morning in the basement with his photographs; Norah hanging around the house – waiting for what? For everyone to forgive her? For Fay to leave so that she can pick up where she leaves off? And now the police?

Fay closes her eyes again and feels the burn of tiredness behind her eyelids.

She sways and reaches for the edge of the table in the hallway.

‘Mummy?' Willa dashes up to her and takes her hand. ‘What's wrong? Why are you wobbly?'

When Fay opens her eyes, everyone's staring at her.

‘I'm fine, my darling… I'm fine. Just a bit tired.'

Willa's hand grips on tighter.

I can't lose them,
thinks Fay. Not after all this time.

The doorbell goes again.

‘I think you should open the door, Dad,' says Ella. ‘Can't keep the police waiting.'

‘You had no right to do this, Ella,' Adam says.

‘No
right
? You're joking, aren't you?'

Fay walks past Adam and goes to the door. Ella was right: two police officers are standing on the doorstep.

A few weeks after Norah left, Fay and Adam had sat Ella down and explained that her mummy wasn't coming home. Ella had listened to them for a good hour, and then she'd looked from one to the other as though they were out of their minds and said:

You're wrong. Mum's coming home. And I'm the one who's going to find her.
 

Adam storms past Ella. ‘I'll handle this,' he says to Fay. And then he turns to the police: ‘If you don't mind, we'll discuss this outside.' He slams the door behind him.

‘I don't understand what's going on,' Willa says.

As she looks at her little girl with her shiny brown eyes and her straggly, copper bob and the dark smudges under her eyes, Fay's heart tilts. All this is too much for Willa.

Ella looks from Fay to Norah. ‘So, what
do
we tell Willa, guys? You're the experts.'

‘The experts?' Norah asks.

‘The mothers,' Ella says. ‘Aren't mothers meant to know what to do?'

Fay feels dizzy again. Ella's right – how are they meant to explain all this to Willa?

I'm not your mummy.
Is that what she's meant to say?

Your mummy's the woman who showed up on our doorstep yesterday, a woman you don't remember.
 

We've been keeping the truth from you. And now Ella's called the police and alerted them to the return of a missing person who isn't even on their books.
 

Fay opens her mouth, ready to comfort Willa, but Norah steps in front of her, crouches down and takes Willa's hand.

‘There's nothing to worry about,' Norah says.

You're about to turn this little girl's life upside down and you tell her she's got nothing to worry about? Surely even Norah isn't as naive as that.

Willa stares at Norah's fingers wrapped around her own, and then looks up at Fay.

Fay feels a pinch in her chest.

‘Mummy?'

Fay forces a smile. ‘Yes, everything's fine, Willa.'

Ella lets out a cold laugh.

Norah continues. ‘The police have come to ask me some questions. They're just doing their job.'

So she's still good at bullshitting.

Willa shrugs. ‘Okay.' She slips her fingers out of Norah's hand and turns to Fay. ‘Mummy, can I take Louis upstairs?' She smiles, her wobbly front tooth wedged at an angle. Another milestone in this little girl's life – one that Fay thought she would share in. ‘Please Mummy, just for a treat, because it's the weekend?'

Fay feels Norah flinch.

‘Of course, my darling,' says Fay.

Let Willa have the comforts she can. She deserves to have this weekend, to get through her birthday before having to deal with the truth of who Norah is.

Willa beams, grabs Louis's collar and drags him upstairs. ‘It's my birthday tomorrow,' she says to Louis. ‘And it's going to be the best birthday ever. And that means you'll get lots of treats too.'

Louis's tail thumps the back of Willa's legs.

Adam comes back in.

‘Norah, Fay – would you mind coming out here for a second to talk to the police?'

If Norah's good at bullshitting, Adam's hopeless. The nervous sway in his voice, his eyes darting from Ella to Norah. But Ella seems to buy it. She folds her arms across her chest and smiles.

‘Ella, look after your sister, I won't be long,' Adam says.

‘Sure, Dad.' Ella looks over to Norah and her brown eyes darken. ‘I've been looking after my sister since she was born – what's a few more hours?'

‘Ella —'

‘And you can tell the police that they'd better keep Mum – before she mucks up anyone else's lives.'

Ever since Norah left, Fay's struggled to find common ground with Ella. But right now, as they stand here, with everything falling apart, she's never felt closer to her. She doesn't want Norah here either.

It's clear to her now: Fay wants Norah to leave – for good. This is her home and her family and no matter what happens, she's going to stay.