Elisabeth Carpenter - Only a Mother

‘And?’

‘I can’t remember the name.’

‘Gillian and Brian Sharpe live far enough for it not to be a problem – we did check that out. But you know not to contact them.’

‘Right.’

‘And you’re not to mix with any known criminals.’

‘I know.’

‘Good. Here’s a card with details of your counselling session next week. Be on time – early, if you can.’

‘Are they really necessary?’

‘You know they are. It’s one of the conditions of your release.’

Craig didn’t mention anything about counselling.

They’re still talking downstairs when there’s a screech outside – a car breaking suddenly. I creep to my window, not wanting Craig to realise I’ve been listening at my door. I push the nets aside.

Standing in the middle of the road is a teenage girl. Her hair is blonde; her skin is pale. She’s staring right at the house.

The driver in the blue car that stopped for her puts a foot on the accelerator; the engine revs, but the girl doesn’t move.

She meets my eyes and raises her hand to wave, but her palm stops mid-air.

It can’t be her, can it? Ghosts don’t exist. It would be impossible.

I can’t take my eyes from hers.

The car horn sounds and my gaze is drawn away; there are another two cars behind the blue one. By the time I look back into the road, the girl is gone.

I stagger backwards till I land on my bed.

She looked just like Lucy.

I wait a good two minutes after Adam leaves the house before going back downstairs.

In the living room, Craig is in his chair, unmoving, looking out of the window. There is no one standing outside.

‘Craig, love?’ I ask tentatively. ‘Did it go well?’

He purses his lips; his eyes narrow. No reply.

‘Can I get you a brew?’ I say, trying to sound cheerful.

‘A special one.’ Still he looks out of the window, his voice monotone.

‘Eh?’

‘Never mind.’ He stands, towering over me and stretching his arms backwards, making his chest look inflated. ‘I’ll make us both one.’

I want to follow him into the kitchen, but resist. Instead, I look to the window, half daydreaming.

My heart jolts when I make out a face that’s pressed against it. Young, female, blonde.

A knock at the door.

I stand motionless – hoping that will make me invisible.

Lucy might be haunting us now that Craig’s been released. I shake my head. No. That’s ridiculous.

‘Shall I get that, Mum?’ shouts Craig from the kitchen.

I dart out of the living room and join him in the kitchen, shutting the door.

‘No, no,’ I whisper. ‘We can’t open the front door. We don’t know who it is.’

‘Of course we don’t,’ says Craig, too loud. ‘But that’s usually the way.’

Another knock; the letterbox flaps open and shut.

‘Oh no,’ I say. ‘I forgot to put the litter tray down.’

‘Litter tray? What are you talking about?’

I look up at my son – his face in a frown.

‘It’s for…’

He rubs his forehead, then pulls open the kitchen door, almost running to open the front one. He stands on the pavement, looking left and right for several minutes before coming back inside. He bends down and picks up a leaflet. It was only a silly leaflet.

‘You haven’t been getting threats… things through the door, have you, Mum?’

I blink quickly. ‘I… no… I…’

I thought it might have been the girl standing outside.

‘Shit. You have, haven’t you? Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve told me… I could’ve had someone protect you.’

‘Protect me? Like who? And how?’ I shake my head. ‘No, no. That’s not been necessary, has it? Look at me: I’m fine.’

He stares at me, hard, frowning again. If he weren’t my son, I could imagine myself being afraid of him.

‘Yes, you’re fine,’ he says. ‘But, Mum… you look different, you act differently. Being here isn’t what it was like when…’ He puts his hands on my shoulders – they’re so big and his grip is so tight that it hurts me a little. ‘You’ll never have to worry about things like this again. OK?’

I nod. ‘Yes.’

Even though I know that will never be true. Craig used to be such a gentle soul. But I’ve noticed that something in him has changed. Perhaps he was never gentle – that might have been a picture I painted of him while he was away.

It’s now three in the afternoon and there have been no further dramas – unless you count Craig getting up and down from his seat to peer through the curtains, mumbling, ‘Where the hell is he?’

He said it so quietly, I didn’t want to ask what he meant by it.

I can’t concentrate on the telly. The girl outside looked so much like Lucy it was uncanny. Her hair was the same colour, the same style. I remember Craig brought Lucy to our house one afternoon. She was ever so quiet, but very polite. She declined my offer of tea and biscuits, while Craig was mortified at the mere suggestion of refreshments.

‘We’re not staying,’ he said. ‘I only came to get something from upstairs.’

When he came down, whatever it was must’ve been in his pockets because he wasn’t carrying anything. I was happy at the time that he’d found someone. I thought it might calm him down if he had a sensible influence. Before that, he was always off gallivanting with Jason, getting home at silly o’clock in the middle of the night.

He never did answer me when I asked if she was his girlfriend. Perhaps he wanted to keep some things private from me. I had to accept that.

I can’t have imagined someone being outside earlier – the car had stopped for her. They say everyone has a doppelganger, but they’re never in the same area. What was she doing, staring at the house – and was it her who peered through the window?

There’s a bleep on my phone telling me I have a notification from my forum. Craig didn’t seem to hear it, so I open the application.

It’s from Anne Marie. She’s online now.

AnneMarie2348:How is Craig settling in?

NorthernLass:I’m not sure. He seems different to how he was inside.

AnneMarie2348:How?

NorthernLass:He was quiet, vulnerable in there. It’s like he’s a different person. Seems taller but his temper’s shorter. He seems frustrated or angry with me for some reason. Does that sound strange? I’m almost afraid of him sometimes, but I suppose I can’t read his behaviour in the same way I could before all this.

AnneMarie2348:No, not at all. Although Ashley was the opposite. She seemed smaller when she got home. It was almost like she didn’t want to be here. It took a few months for her to stop missing her friends inside. Said they were the only ones who understood her. Can you imagine how hurtful that was to hear? But I suppose I shouldn’t be selfish.

NorthernLass:You’re not selfish. It’s as though Craig doesn’t want to be here either. It’s not how I thought it would be.

AnneMarie2348:It’ll take time.

Craig gets up and walks to the window again.

NorthernLass:Better go. He keeps getting up as though he’s waiting for someone.

AnneMarie2348:Take care, Erica.

‘Where is he?’ says Craig, louder than he did before.

‘Where’s who, love?’

He puts his hands on his hips, still facing the gap in the curtains.

‘Jason. He said he’d be round as soon as… he’s a day late.’

‘But how would you arrange that? He’s not psychic.’

‘Psychic’s not a word I’d associate with Jase. We planned it… when I was away.’

‘Over the phone?’