Caroline Anderson - Knave of Hearts

Her house year interrupted by her pregnancy, she had moved to Edinburgh to her parents’ home and with their help had completed the second half of her house year in a local hospital before settling down to raising Beth. Now, Beth was older, and Anne had to make a life for them without help from other people. It wasn’t just a case of pride, it was a fundamental need to survive out in the open away from the loving but often suffocating support of her parents.

They had moved from Edinburgh to Norwich a year ago, and when the job had come up only thirty miles from them, it had seemed too good to be true. She could have her independence, but she needn’t be too isolated from them and Beth wouldn’t lose touch with her grandparents. Sometimes, though, when the heating played up or the grill wouldn’t light or the curtain tracks fell down, Anne wondered if it was all worth it.

Turning the temperamental grill down, she sliced the potatoes and par-boiled them before frying them in a little olive oil, telling herself that they weren’t really chips and would be good for them, although God knew there couldn’t have been much vitamin C left in the withered little offerings.

She really must get to the shops tomorrow. No wonder she had fainted in Jake’s arms—it was just the combination of a hectic schedule and a lousy diet.

Beth had laid the table, the knives and forks the wrong way round, and Anne adjusted them quickly while she wasn’t looking.

‘Pizzas are done,’ Beth announced from her station by the cooker, peering under the grill.

They ate their meagre meal quickly, and then, while the dishes soaked in the sink, they curled up together on the sofa in the little sitting-room that ran the full width of the back of the house, and Beth read her book to Anne.

The homework done, the snowman described in great detail and the tears apparently forgotten, they went upstairs and ran a bath.

While Beth splashed happily with her empty bottles and plastic toys, Anne unpacked the rucksack, hung up Beth’s uniform and found her hot-water bottle.

The heating wasn’t very efficient in the bedrooms, and as Anne tucked her daughter into bed a short while later, she reflected that all they needed to stretch her meagre resources to breaking point was a long, cold winter.

She had to pay Jenny, the rent, all her bills and feed them on a houseman’s salary, and sometimes she wondered how they would get to the end of the month. At the beginning of the month she had bought an ancient and not very reliable little car, the best she could afford, so that they could go out on her few days off and have fun and to enable her to get to the hospital and back quickly to give her more time with Beth at the beginning and end of the day.

She would hate to sell it, but if it came to that she supposed she would have to. Such as it was, it was the only luxury she had left.

Kissing Beth goodnight, she made her way downstairs and quickly washed the dishes, then tidied up the sitting-room and ran upstairs again to change.

It was seven forty-five, so there was no time for a bath before Jake arrived. Knowing Jake, he wouldn’t be late, so she wanted to be ready on time.

She opened her wardrobe doors and sighed. What could she wear? Not that it mattered, but she did want—— Silly girl. Why should it matter what impression she created? She tutted at herself, pulled a clean pair of jeans and an oversized sweater out of the drawer, and then sat down at the dressing-table and cleansed her face before reapplying her make-up.

She wore only the minimum for work, but tonight she stroked a soft, smoky green on to her lids to bring out the hazel of her eyes, and a touch of mascara to lengthen her lashes—not that she could hope to compete with Jake when it came to eyelashes.

A sudden thump from next door made her start. She glared accusingly at the dividing wall, then wiped the mascara off her cheek and peered out of the window. There was light spilling out on to the front garden, and a car on the drive—a BMW by the look of it. Must be a new consultant moved in over the weekend, she mused, and, on the way out of the room, looked at herself critically in the mirror.

Too short, too slight, her figure such as it was shot to bits by childbirth, her hair mousy, her face about as arresting as a blank wall—she turned away from the mirror in resignation, not seeing the gracefulness in her slender body, the appeal of her figure softened by maturity to a gentle womanliness, or the wistful, expressive quality of her large, green-gold eyes above her neat, delicate features framed by soft glossy hair the colour of polished hazelnuts.

Instead, convinced of her bland lack of appeal, she moved quietly through life, content to take a back seat and allow others to enjoy the limelight.

Sometimes she wondered sadly if that was all there was to be to life, but usually she was too busy to consider herself.

Tonight, though—tonight, she had to deal with Jake, and she needed a coat of armour to hide behind, never mind a dash of lipstick!

It was a few minutes before eight, and as she straightened the cushions in the sitting-room and turned up the control on the gas fire in a last vain attempt to make the bleak surroundings homely, she heard little footsteps on the stairs.

Oh, no, not now, she thought desperately.

‘Mummy?’

‘In here, darling.’

Beth’s little face appeared round the door. ‘I don’t really hate you,’ she said seriously.

‘Oh, Beth, I know you don’t!’ Anne held out her arms to her small daughter, and hugged her tight.

‘I missed you, Mummy.’

‘I know—I missed you, too. Still, it won’t be long before I don’t have to work so many weekends, and then we can be together.’

‘If it snows this weekend, can we build a snowman for my birthday?’ Beth asked, her wide eyes doubtful.

‘If it snows, then yes, of course. Now come on, you’ve got school tomorrow—run along up to bed, there’s a good girl.’

Beth lifted up her face for a kiss, and blinked.

‘You’ve got make-up on!’

Anne laughed a little awkwardly. ‘I usually have make-up on.’

Beth shook her head. ‘This is different make-up. You look—prettier.’

Anne blushed slightly.

‘Thank you, darling.’

‘Are you going out?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I’ve got a friend coming to see me——’

‘Is it Auntie Jo?’

‘No, she’s——’

‘Auntie Maggie?’

‘No, I——’

They both started slightly as a door slammed next door, and then seconds later their front doorbell rang.

‘I’ll get it!’ Beth yelled.

‘Beth, no!’ Anne wailed, but the child was already down the hall, fumbling with the catch.

Perhaps it’s the new next-door neighbours, Anne thought hopefully, but as the door swung open her worst fears were realised.

‘Oh!’ Beth said with characteristic lack of diplomacy as she eyed the big man lounging in the porch. ‘Are you Mummy’s friend? I thought you’d be a lady—Mummy doesn’t have men friends.’

Jake grinned lazily and shouldered himself away from the wall, shooting Anne a teasing glance over the child’s head. ‘Doesn’t she, now?’

‘Not usually—come in, you’ll let all the heat out and we can’t afford to heat the garden,’ Beth told him solemnly, parroting Anne’s frequent plea.

He laughed, and Beth laughed too, her head tipped back, her face alive with humour, the thick black lashes framing the dark chocolate eyes that sparkled with mischief.

And then it happened.

Jake looked at Beth, then looked again, and emotions one after the other chased across his face. Disbelief, and incredulous joy, and a terrible, fierce anger.

‘What’s your name?’ Beth asked him, her head cocked slightly to one side in a mannerism so familiar that Anne knew he would see it.