‘I’ll warm up in a minute,’ I said, slapping my cheeks. I knelt down on the hearthrug, the heat from the quivering flames making my skin tingle.
She clapped her hands together. ‘Right. Next big thing. Mel is in her highchair – you stay by the fire while I go and fetch her.’
Karen came back jiggling her daughter on one arm, pulling a little trolley with the other. Fastened to it was an oxygen tank, the size of a large bottle of Coke.
She didn’t give me time to react. ‘And here she is!’ she said, stroking her daughter’s earlobe. Melanie had a tiny plastic mask over her nose and mouth. ‘This is my wonderful friend from University – Alice,’ she said, adjusting the tubes away from her clawing fingers.
I took hold of her plump little hand. ‘She’s gorgeous.’ She had Karen’s alert silvery-blue eyes, but with darker, cropped hair the colour of mahogany, under a pink crocheted hat.
Karen tapped the oxygen tank. ‘She has to have this for the time being – about ten times a day – to make sure she’s breathing properly, don’t you, sweetheart...?’ Karen planted a kiss on the child’s cheek and kept her eyes shut, her forehead crumpling for a split second.
Melanie tried to pull the mask away from her face. ‘I know, darling – it’s very annoying, isn’t it?’ Karen looked up at me. ‘She’s still getting used to it. It’ll be fine.’
Karen’s voice was too light and airy; I could tell she was bluffing, making everything seem hunky-dory, but I wasn’t convinced at all.
‘I was so thrilled to hear from you,’ I said, not wanting to burst the bubble.
‘About time, eh?’ She tossed back her hair. ‘Anyway, I’m being a terrible hostess. I must get you a drink. What do you fancy?’ She didn’t wait for my reply and headed off into the kitchen. ‘Coffee with a splash of milk?’
She came to the doorway. ‘Still one sugar?’
‘Spot on.’
‘I’ve bought some prunes and sultanas, specially,’ she called out, as the door swung shut between us.
She’d remembered.
I cringed. I knew she’d had a penchant for After Eight mints and now wished I’d thought to bring some. Then I caught myself; Karen wasn’t the sort to have a favourite anything for very long.
I stood up to take a proper look around me and realised just how basic the place was. No double-glazing, no television or DVD player. The wallpaper was peeling away at the skirting boards and a sunken sofa stood limply in front of the fireplace. I didn’t dare touch the curtains, they looked like they might disintegrate, and the heavy musty smell reminded me of the crypt at Dad’s church.
The latch on the bare wooden door, more at home on a garden shed, clunked as I went through to join Karen. A smell of root vegetables and apples, slightly buttery, hit me. I had a look around: no washing machine, toaster or electric kettle.
Karen poured the hot drinks while I tried to look impressed by the chipped earthenware terrines, dented copper pots and antiquated stove.
‘We got here a couple of hours ago,’ she said, nudging me back towards the hearth with a mug. I pulled up a worn leather pouffe and huddled into it, my hands reaching for the flames between sips of coffee.
‘I’ve brought loads of jumpers you can borrow and there are spare blankets if you need them,’ she said. ‘I put a heater on in your room to take the edge off and there’s a hot-water bottle on your bed. Anything you need, just say. Okay?’
She sat Melanie on the sofa alongside a floppy blue rabbit that was wearing a mini version of her face mask – and disappeared for a moment. When she returned, she knelt beside me holding a pair of fingerless gloves. ‘I don’t know whether you brought any, but these are for you,’ she said, pressing them over my hands. They were made of Icelandic wool with a zigzag pattern on them. Exactly the kind I would have bought for myself if I’d been more on the ball. I grabbed her arm as she sat back on her heels.
‘You’re amazing. Thank you.’
As if on cue, Melanie clapped her hands together and squealed. She threw the rabbit on to the floor and Karen picked it up and made it dance. Melanie gurgled something along the lines of, ‘Blaba nowa mowa…’ and took a plastic block out of the bucket on the sofa and flung that on the floor, too.
Karen and I looked at each other and laughed. ‘She’s changed so much,’ she said, pressing her hand to her chest as if holding back a surge of loss and joy, all in one.
‘I’ve missed watching her grow.’ She pulled the hat down over Melanie’s ears.