Peony Place. Jules Wake

Ava’s classroom as I had that morning. Poppy, apparently, was old enough to be released into the wild by herself and was allowed to come and find me. Alice had had to give approval for me to collect the girls and this morning yesterday I’d had to check in with the teacher, Miss Parr – a smiley, fresh-faced girl of at least twelve – whom Ava clearly adored.

      Keeping my head down, I focused on my phone to avoid the other mums’ speculative looks. Had Alice told them what had happened? I was embarrassed that they might know about my health issues and that I wasn’t currently working.

      I’d managed to fill the rest of my day by doing some cooking and tidying up the bedroom Ava and Poppy were sharing. Neither were thrilled about having to share the big double bed, and I didn’t blame them, but I hadn’t got around to furnishing the third or fourth bedrooms since moving from my two-bedroom flat in Headingly. Ava’s rumpled side of the bed had looked as if rampaging squirrels had run amok in her sheets overnight, scattering the pile of soft toys she’d insisted she had to bring. Nine in all, each of which had a name and a reason as to why it had to accompany her. And at bedtime, every last one had to be given a goodnight kiss and cuddle before Ava would climb into bed. In contrast, Poppy hopped straight in and opened up her book. She was currently reading something called Skulduggery Pleasant with a slightly macabre front cover. On her side of the bed, the covers had been neatly pulled up and her pyjamas were folded on top of the pillow. Ava’s PJ bottoms hung from the shade on the bedside light and the top dangled from the bed post at the end of the bed.

      After bringing order to Ava’s side of the room, I’d been relieved to find that it was nearly three and time to collect the girls and that somehow I’d managed to fill my first non-working day.

      When Ava’s teacher, Miss Parr, beckoned me over with a stern expression, I immediately began to worry that I’d forgotten something this morning.

      She gave me a tight smile. ‘It would be really good if you could do some reading with Ava this evening. We do encourage children to read every day, if possible.’

      I glanced down at Ava at her side and winced. Ava’s hair was an astonishing bird’s nest that had long-ago escaped from this morning’s plaits. Clearly, I also needed to do better on the hairdressing front. ‘And if you could practise spellings with her too, well…’ She paused and gave me one of those non smiles that contained a definite touch of admonishment, ‘that would really help her.’

      ‘Of course,’ I said a little too eagerly, wanting to be the perfect mother-substitute in Alice’s absence. Ava’s hand snuck into mine and I remembered her tears and her woeful cry that she was always bottom.

      It was something I had intended to ask Alice about when she called but my sister hadn’t been in touch at all since she’d left last Friday which made me feel faintly uneasy. I had to remind myself that this was typical Alice. Trying to curb my irritation, I decided to send her a chatty text telling her the girls were great and suggesting that she video-chatted with them this evening.

      Surely they had Wi-Fi at the retreat? Even Mum had sent an email from the middle of the ocean. She was thrilled that Alice had managed to get a holiday and I got kudos for being such a good sister.

      ‘Did you bring a snack?’ asked Ava as we crossed the playground, Poppy skipping towards us.

      ‘No but you can have something when we get in.’

      ‘But I’m starving,’ she wailed. ‘Can we get some sweeties from the shop?’

      ‘Why don’t you wait until we get home? I’ve bought some nice grapes and bananas.’

      A pout appeared on her face. ‘Hello Poppy,’ I turned with relief to my elder niece.

      ‘Hello, Auntie Claire. I’ve got a letter about a school trip. Can I go?’

      ‘I got letters too,’ announced Ava, lifting her plump arm and waving her book bag at me.

      ‘Let’s get home and then we can look at the letters,’ I said with a sudden surge of pleasure at being needed and having something to do. Letters I could do. This was something I could deal with and be efficient-Claire again. The Claire I was at work. ‘And who likes spaghetti Bolognese?’

      ‘Me, me,’ cried Ava dancing around my feet.

      ‘My favourite,’ said Poppy with quieter enthusiasm. ‘Did you make it or is it a packet one? You know they’re full of trans-fatty acids.’ Her small pink mouth pursed in disapproval.

      ‘I made it,’ I said. ‘Well, the sauce.’

      ‘By yourself?’ Ava’s saucer-eyed admiration and Poppy’s approving nod made me grin at them both. Feeling like a hero was something I could get used. After my ridiculous meltdown earlier, this was balm to my soul. It had been a long time since I’d felt such a sense of achievement. Although, if homemade spaghetti Bolognese brought me superhero status, it showed just how far I’d fallen.

      Listening to their happy chatter about their days – what they’d eaten, how brilliant super-speller Lucy Chambers was at maths and how the five-a-day fruit and veg maxim should really be ten-a-day and a host of other nutritional facts that Poppy had absorbed in Science – took us from the playground to the edge of the park. The same park I was striding through not that long ago, feeling like I could take on the world. How quickly things had changed.

      ‘Can I go on the swings? Can I? Can I?’ asked Ava, her chubby legs already deviating from the main path that cut through the park to my house towards the enclosed playground area.

      ‘That all right with you, Poppy?’ I asked, giving my watch a quick glance. We had plenty of time and nowhere to be. Unlike Ros’s kids who had Cubs, ballet, trampolining, and football to be ferried to, Alice’s children didn’t appear to have any after-school activities.

      She looked surprised and shrugged. ‘I guess. I’ve got my book with me.’

      I’d noticed that Ava got her own way an awful lot. Alice always deferred to her while poor old Poppy often had to play the sensible older sister. It was a role I remembered well.

      We diverted to the small play area which had a couple of swings, a roundabout, a rope walk, and several one-seater rocking animals on large springs for which Ava made a beeline. Poppy chose a swing and before long was flying high, her long spindly legs earnestly propelling her backwards and forwards.

      Ava, with her butterfly attention, zig zagged from ride to ride, calling for me to watch, catch, and chat to her before I escorted her to the slide where she directed me from her Nelson’s Column position at the top of the steps. Her bossiness with her precise instructions, no there, not there, was quite comical, although I caught Poppy rolling her eyes from where she now sat on one of the benches by the fence with a book.

      A few minutes later I heard a snuffling noise and when I looked behind me, I saw a scruffy grey and white lurcher loitering by the fence. The next time I glanced over he’d poked his nose through a gap and I watched as Poppy put out a tentative hand to stroke the top of its head. I heard her crooning gently to the dog as it tipped his head to one side as if paying careful attention to her. The dog was just like her: all skinny legs and big brown eyes.

      ‘Look! Doggy! Doggy!’ cried Ava leaping from the end of the slide and barrelling over towards Poppy with her sturdy body. ‘Doggy!’ she screeched even more loudly, climbing on the fence and leaning over, waving her arms like a whirling dervish towards the dog. The dog, which had been quietly making friends with Poppy, immediately began bouncing about, its back legs springing from side to side, barking in a high pitch which was growing ever more hysterical.

      ‘Stop it, Ava,’ snapped Poppy. ‘You’re winding it up.’

      ‘Not,’ said Ava as she withdrew, not quite so confident now. The dog jumped up and startled Ava who fell backwards and started to cry.

      ‘Serves you right,’ said Poppy crossly.

      Ava