And then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jumped but it was only Daphne. She pressed her cold cheek against mine. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Here.’ She handed me a polystyrene cup and I dropped the toffee apple on the ground, stifling the guilt I felt at littering, so that I could take it and still hold your hand.
‘Who were you talking to?’
She frowned. ‘No one. Why?’
‘I saw you. With a man.’
‘A man?’ She looked confused for a few moments before she apparently twigged. ‘Oh, yes, that was Sean.’
‘What was he doing here? He came all the way from Chippenham?’
She shrugged, like it was no big deal. It crossed my mind that she hadn’t brought him over to introduce us. Did he even know about me? About us? I told myself I was being silly. Of course she would have told him. Unless he thinks she’s my lodger and nothing more.
She giggled. ‘I think he fancies me a little bit. But it comes in handy.’
I stared at her in shock. What had happened to all her feminist principles? To the ‘we don’t need men’ conversations we frequently had?
‘What?’ She laughed, sipping her drink. ‘He helps me carry the heavy stuff.’
‘God, Daphne.’ I turned away from her.
Her next words were drowned in the explosion of fireworks and I bent down so that I was on your level. I didn’t want to look at Daphne. You were watching intently, your mouth open in surprise as a banger burst into a riot of gold and yellow, but you covered your ears with your hands.
‘Are they too loud?’
You shook your head. ‘Pretty.’
I ignored Daphne for the rest of the show, not even sure why I was so cross with her. Was I jealous that she was flirting with a man? Or was it because she seemed so totally unconcerned that Victor might be here and that I could be in danger? When she was worried about Neil I was there for her. I killed for her. And in return she was acting like my situation was just one big joke.
When it had finished I clutched your hand and turned, expecting Daphne to be behind us. But she had gone.
57
Rose
Bonfire Night, 1980
I scanned the field for Daphne. She couldn’t have gone far. I’d obviously upset her with my frostiness. We rarely argued. We never really had much to argue about, living in our safe little house with you. Even with the spectre of Neil hanging over us. But now that Victor was potentially in the area, everything had turned in on itself. I was once again on full alert.
‘Mummy, tired,’ you complained, as I frog-marched you across the field. People were dispersing, and we wove in and out of them, searching for Daphne but also hyper-aware of Victor. You were still slurping at your hot chocolate although my cup was empty.
‘Sorry, honey, but we need to get home as quickly as we can,’ I said, trying to hide the fear in my voice. Why had Daphne gone off and left us when she knew I was scared about Victor? As we attempted to leave the field there was a bottleneck as everyone tried to get through the gate at the same time and we had no choice but to stop and wait. I glanced around anxiously: we were penned in on all sides by people who stamped their feet impatiently and complained loudly about the hold-up. I studied every male face in case it was Victor’s and I clutched your hand tightly. ‘Don’t let go,’ I said to you, in my sternest voice. Finally the crowd gave way and swarmed forward and I breathed a sigh of relief as people scattered, but thankful that there was still enough of a throng to protect us if Victor was there.
But as we walked along the high street and up the hill towards Skelton Place everyone else had melted away and it was just the two of us.
‘Bit scared, Mummy,’ you said, gripping my hand tightly and my heart broke. You must have sensed my fear because you were never normally scared. You looked around at the high hedges and the woods that encompassed us with wide, terrified eyes. Somewhere far away an owl hooted.