The Doll House. Phoebe Morgan

him into the next room. He had pressed it tight against his ear, turned his mouth away from her so that she couldn’t hear what he was saying, or who was on the phone. She’d watched the back of his head through the glass window in the door frame, the way the muscles in the back of his neck stood tense and alert.

      At least this weekend is an excuse to get away from the house. Ashley is not sure how many more nights sitting alone in front of the TV she can take, listening to the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock, waiting for Holly to start crying again. Lately, when Benji and Holly are sleeping upstairs and Lucy has retreated to her room, Ashley finds herself at a loss – not that there isn’t anything to do, there is always washing to be done, surfaces to be wiped – but she finds herself alone, left with nobody to talk to. When this happens, she realises what is happening – she is missing her husband. Even in the marital home they have shared for years, Ashley is missing the man she married.

      And she wants to know where he is. She has come to dread the little pangs of anxiety that ripple through her every time the phone rings, the places her imagination jumps to. There had been another call late last night, the needling sound of her mobile this time, jolting her awake just as she dozed off, alone in the double bed. She had stared at the screen. Unknown number. Sitting upright in bed, Ashley had pressed the phone to her ear. She’d said nothing, didn’t want whoever it was to have the satisfaction of hearing her voice. After a few seconds of silence, she’d pressed end call, buried the little phone deep underneath the pillows, laid back down in the bed. In the morning the phone had been placed neatly back on their nightstand; James had smiled at her.

      ‘You shouldn’t sleep with it under your head. I moved it for you.’ She had nodded, watched him leave the room, go straight upstairs to his office even though it was first thing in the morning and the children were all clamouring for breakfast.

      His absences have shown no signs of stopping. She knows she ought to confront him but something is making her wait. She supposes it is hope; hope that she is getting things out of proportion, is misreading the signs. Once it’s out there, she will have to deal with it. But how much longer can this go on? How can he not see how much she needs him?

      When they reach Sevenoaks, Ashley hugs her mother tightly. She can feel Mathilde’s bones through her top, is shocked by how skinny she has become. Ashley worries that her mum spends too much time alone. Even though the house is small it still seems too big for one person; Ashley is taken aback by the emptiness of it each time they come. And the gap her dad has left in the family looms larger whenever the three of them are together.

      ‘It’s so good to see you, Mum.’ It is; she smiles at her mother, breathes in her familiar scent of cleaning products and freesias. Mathilde reaches for Holly, buries her face in her neck.

      ‘How is our little one? Oh, your grandad would have loved you so much.’

      Ashley feels a twist of sadness. When Holly was born, a part of her had wanted her to be a boy, another Richard. The letters of her father’s name had hovered around her head in the terrible weeks between his death and Holly’s birth, as though waiting to latch on to something else, to reassign themselves. But Holly is Holly. And her father is gone. He would have loved her to distraction. Ashley knows he would.

      Benji runs forward into the house, screaming excitedly for Dominic. Lucy follows, the white buds of her earphones trailing after her, her mobile buzzing in her hands.

      Corinne is curled up like a cat on the living room sofa, her dark hair tied back from her face, fiddling with the gold bracelet on her wrist. She’s wearing jeans and a pale blue jumper, she looks somehow younger than her thirty-four years. Dominic is by her side. He grins at Ashley.

      ‘Great to see you, Ash!’ He pulls her into a hug and she embraces him warmly. She has always liked Dominic, he is so down-to-earth, good for her sister. Ashley leans down to kiss Corinne, cupping her face in both her hands affectionately. Her sister looks thin; as Ashley hugs her, she feels Corinne’s body jerk slightly, as though she is nervous.

      ‘Hi, Ash. Where’s James?’ Corinne asks.

      Ashley’s face flushes slightly, she feels suddenly alone in the crowded room. ‘He’s working, coming down tomorrow,’ she says, keeping her voice light. ‘We drove all the way. Well, I did, no “we” about it. I’ve had more takeaway coffees than I care to think about and the car’s covered in Minstrels.’

      Dominic laughs and is interrupted by a small body hitting his knees.

      ‘Benji, my little man!’ He swings him upwards; Benji giggles delightedly and launches into a description of the book he is reading at school, which is all about space. Ashley has heard more talk about the solar system in the last two weeks than she has about anything else.

      ‘There are loads and loads of planets, and stars, and even things called black holes that suck things up!’ Benji announces proudly.

      ‘I’m not sure they actually suck things up, Ben,’ Dominic says.

      Ashley smiles wryly at him and sits down next to Corinne, who is pulling at a stray thread on the sofa, worrying the cotton until it snaps.

      ‘How are you, Cor?’

      ‘Yeah, I’m OK,’ Corinne says. She circles her gold bracelet around her wrist. ‘Where’s the baby?’

      ‘With Mum. She’s changing her nappy for me, bless her.’

      There is a pause. Ashley clears her throat. ‘Work good?’

      Corinne hesitates. ‘I wanted to talk to you,’ she says. She glances around the room. The expression on her face is odd. Ashley nods, surprised at the sudden tension.

      ‘Do you remember I told you about the little chimney pot? That looked like it came from the doll house?’

      Ashley nods, frowns. ‘Yes. Did you hang on to it?’

      ‘Yes,’ Corinne says. ‘But . . . but I also found something else, the other day.’ She takes a breath and looks over at Dominic, lowering her voice. ‘Ashley, I found the little door, the front door of the house. It was on my desk at work.’

      There is a silence. Ashley reaches up, rubs her own shoulder blades, feeling how tight the muscles are. She’d love a massage. James used to massage her shoulders when he got home from work, sit her down at the kitchen table and knead her shoulders gently, trace words across her back that she had to try to guess. That hasn’t happened in a while.

      Benji crashes into the sides of her legs and Ashley puts out a hand to him absent-mindedly. She shouldn’t have let him have sweets in the car, he will be buzzing for hours.

      ‘Ash?’ Corinne is looking at her.

      ‘Sorry, sorry. You found a door?’ She repeats her sister’s words, stalling for time. ‘What did it look like?’

      Corinne reaches down, rummages in the brown handbag sitting by her feet. Ashley stares as she pulls a small piece of wood from her bag. It is painted blue, with a little gold piece sticking out of it, what looks like the remainder of an old nail. Corinne holds it in her palm, flat against her skin. Ashley blinks.

      ‘What do you think? It’s exactly the same as the door that Dad made. Don’t you remember it?’

      Ashley stares at the object for a few seconds. Is she missing something? It looks like a piece of wood that is probably full of splinters; best not let Benji near it. Corinne is still staring at her expectantly; she closes her eyes, tries to think. If she is honest, the details of their doll house have long slipped away from her, overtaken by the hundreds of toys she has bought her own children over the years, hours and hours spent in hellish department stores every Christmas.

      ‘I mean . . . I don’t really think it looks familiar, Cor, to be truthful,’ Ashley says. Her sister pauses.

      ‘You don’t?’

      ‘Well . . . it looks to me like a piece of wood. Why would it be from our doll house? Neither of us have seen that in years. I mean, I suppose it might look similar?