I Invited Her In - Adele Parks

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I’m that used to it. I suddenly imagine the excitement of wearing a new scent and want to grab the box off Imogen. But the objection that the gifts might be more dearly appreciated by me is null and void, since Imogen and Lily are openly ecstatic. They are both wearing a gash of scarlet lipstick somewhere in the vicinity of their mouths. Imogen has ripped the perfume box open and is liberally spraying the scent around the room as though it’s air freshener.

      ‘Don’t waste that, Immie. It’s expensive.’

      ‘Oh, they’re happy,’ says Abi. Again, I can’t quite compute her tone. Maybe she’s making a delighted observation or she could be inferring I’m a nag and that I should leave them alone.

      ‘What do you say, girls?’ I hate it that I have to prompt them. They are normally quite well-mannered but I think the adultness of the gift has overwhelmed them. They mumble none-too-convincing thank yous. Embarrassed, I mutter, ‘You know how kids are.’

      I wonder, does she? How much contact has she had? Other than the people who turn up on her chat-show sofa, does she have any interaction with kids? Is she a godmother to anyone? She must be, right? She’s perfect godparent material.

      At that moment, I hear the front door bang against the hall wall and a rucksack being dropped. I look out of the kitchen window and notice that the street lamps are on, the sky has turned a deep indigo; it will be black as a bruise in another hour. ‘Liam’s home,’ I announce. ‘He’s been at football practice.’

      Liam lopes into the room and I am, as always, so very pleased to see him. Liam has an easy, cheerful manner, besides which he manages his two younger sisters with flair and effective ease; he’ll probably be able to retrieve the lippy and scent. I know Abi will be impressed by his height and his manners – all my friends always are.

      ‘Liam, come and meet a friend of mine.’ I jump up and rush to him. I thread my arm through his, just resisting presenting him with a ta-da. ‘This is Abi – we went to university together.’

      He was expecting her, or at least he should have been; the house has been turned upside down by her imminent arrival and yet he looks surprised. Typical boy. It’s possible that he’s forgotten we’ve a house guest staying for a few days. Still, his manners are as perfect as ever. He leans forward and extends his hand for her to shake. She reaches for it and at the same time gracefully pulls herself up to standing.

      ‘Oh my God. I wouldn’t have known him.’

      ‘Well, you haven’t seen him since he was about two months old,’ I point out, laughing.

      ‘He’s—’ She pauses, remembering that he’s in the room. ‘You’re all grown up,’ she murmurs, obviously shocked that in a blink of an eye my baby has turned into this. Looking at Liam no doubt makes Abi feel old in a way that even birthdays can’t. I totally understand. Kids are like egg-timers. Times slips through your fingers like sand, as you stand back and watch them grow.

      ‘A-levels this year,’ I say proudly.

      ‘Really? What subjects?’

      ‘Maths, philosophy and politics,’ Liam reels off his subject choices.

      ‘Wow, clever as well.’ I’m grateful that she hasn’t spelt out exactly what he is, besides clever.

      He’s handsome.

      There’s no doubt about it. Quite particularly so. But he’s young and absolutely hates it when my friends say as much, even though they are only trying to pay him a compliment. Even now, under her gaze, he blushes a little bit. He keeps his head down, his blond, sleek, straight fringe falling over his eyes. His eyes are arguably his best feature. Deep, dark blue pools. Framed with long, thick lashes. I already pity the girls who are going to feel the heat of his gaze once he fully understands the power of it. I suppose there will be quite a few. He has been seeing Tanya for eight months now; it’s serious but it can’t be it. He’s too young. There were girls before her, and there will be others after.

      ‘Yeah, he’s smart,’ I say, not being able to hide my pride. ‘Wants to change the world, does our Liam. Don’t you, love?’

      Liam shrugs. He thinks I’m being flip about his ambitions to become a politician, to champion the rights of those without voices, to find a way of doing the right thing in a world where doing the wrong thing seems to pay, but I’m not. I’m proud of him. A little daunted, to be honest. His ambitions seem so big.

      Liam turns to his sisters, engaging with genuine interest. ‘What have you got on your face?’

      ‘Lipstick,’ they chorus, giggling proudly. They fling themselves at him, and cling like limpets. Although he is too old to comfortably accept a hug from his mum, I’m pleased to say he still cuddles his younger sisters with genuine zeal. Well really, they don’t give him any choice.

      ‘Have you two had your tea?’ he asks. I glance at the clock guiltily. It’s past six. I normally feed the girls by quarter to five. I’ve been distracted by Abi’s arrival.

      ‘Wow, no, no they haven’t. You must be starving, girls.’ Although probably not – Abi hasn’t touched the brownies and yet there’s only one left on the plate. ‘What do you want?’ I ask.

      Liam sees my panic and somehow senses my desire to stay put and chat with Abi some more. He waves his hand. ‘I’ll do it. No problem. What’s it to be, girls? Scrambled egg or beans on toast?’

      ‘No, honestly love, I’ll do their tea but if you could just go and see they wash their hands. Perhaps listen to them reading for school, while I put something on for us all.’

      Liam leads them out of the room. Abi and I smile at one another as we listen to their chatter and laughter trail upstairs.

      ‘He’s quite something.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      ‘You did a fine job, Mel.’ She looks me in the eye and nods.

      ‘Thank you. I didn’t do it on my own. Ben is a brilliant dad and my parents have been such a help.’

      ‘Yup, I don’t doubt it, but it’s mostly you.’

      I nod and accept her compliment because it’s what I like to believe. Not that I mostly did the bringing up. But that he is mostly me. He’s a fine boy and he is mostly mine. Nothing to do with the boy I had a one-night stand with, someone I hardly knew; he is irrelevant.

      Suddenly Abi looks serious and intense. She reaches for my hand, looks me in the eye and says, ‘Thank you for having me. You’ve saved my life.’

      ‘Don’t be daft.’ It’s an expression, right? I mean, I know it is, except that her eyes are all dewy.

      ‘I’m not being daft. I’m one hundred per cent serious. If you hadn’t responded to my email, I don’t know what I would have done. I really don’t. You, inviting me here, it gave me a purpose.’

      I pat her hand and mumble about being ‘Happy to help. It’s the least I can do.’

      And it is. It really is.

       Abigail

      Abigail lay in the funny box room on the lumpy sofa bed and wondered how her life had come to this. It was humiliating, unfair.

      Her suitcase barely squeezed into the room. There certainly wasn’t space to hang everything she’d brought with her, even though she’d only brought a fraction of what she owned. She hadn’t known what to expect. Not exactly, but whatever it was, it was not this. On her plane journey to England she had thought of the last time she saw Melanie Field, now Melanie Harrison. She was a nursing mother. Drab, tired, strangely ashamed. Abi hadn’t known what to say to her then. It had seemed easier not to say anything at all. For years.

      But

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