After a while she heard the front door open and close and the soft footsteps of her five-year-old daughter, Storm. “Darling,” she shouted, a little frustrated that Storm had come home just as she was getting into her characters. Storm appeared at the door looking glum. Her brown hair was swept off her face and her cheeks were pink from the cold. “Did you have a good day at school?”
“No. Gus is a bully,” she said.
Miranda stopped typing and looked at her daughter. “A bully?”
“Madeleine doesn’t want to come for a playdate because she’s frightened of Gus.”
“I know. He bit a little boy today.”
“I saw the bite mark, it was bleeding.”
“I’m sure he showed it off like a war wound!” said Miranda with irritation. No doubt the mother would be on the telephone to complain.
“He pulls the legs off spiders.”
“Jolly good thing, too, they’re horrid.”
“They’re God’s creatures.” Storm’s eyes sparkled with tears.
“Darling, who on earth have you been talking to?”
“Mrs. Roberts says all creatures are special. Gus kills everything.”
“Come here, sweetie,” she said, pulling her daughter into her arms.
“I don’t like Gus.”
“You’re not alone,” said Miranda with a sigh. “Why don’t you go and play in your bedroom? He’s watching Lord of the Rings.” Storm pulled away. “Do you have any homework?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll come up in a minute and help you with it.” But Storm knew that the minute would extend into an hour and she’d end up having to do it on her own. Her mother was always too busy.
Storm sat in her pink bedroom. The wallpaper matched the curtains, depicting little pink cherubs dancing among flowers. Even the lightbulbs were pink, casting the room in a soft rosy glow. The bookshelves were laden with cuddly toys and books. She had pretty jewelry boxes where she kept trinkets and hair slides, glittery butterflies and bracelets. She had pink notebooks in which she pretended to write with pink pencils, and a Win Green gingerbread playhouse made from embroidered pink cotton full of the pink cushions she collected in every shade and size. It was there that she hid now with her reading book from school. She felt sad and alone. She pulled her favorite pink cushion to her chest and hugged it close, drying her tears on the corner. What was the point of a beautiful room if she had no friends to show it off to?
Miranda finished her column and e-mailed it off with a sigh of relief. She had forgotten about her daughter’s homework. She wandered into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine, picking a carrot out of the fridge to quell the urge to smoke. It was time for the children’s tea. All she could think of was eggy bread. Gus had already had fish cakes for lunch. As she stared blankly into the fridge the telephone rang. Sticking the handset between her cheek and shoulder she pulled out a couple of eggs. “Yes?” she said, expecting it to be her husband.
“Hi, it’s Jeremy here.”
“Oh, hi.”
“You know you were looking for a gardener?”
“Yes,” she replied, brightening.
“I’ve found someone who might do. He’s called Mr. Underwood. He’s quite old and rather eccentric, but he loves gardening.”
“How did you find him?”
“He used to work on the farm.”
“And now?”
“He’s semiretired. He could do a few days a week for you.”
“How old is he?”
Jeremy hesitated. “Midsixties.”
“Will he be up to it? There’s a lot to be done over here.”
“Just give him a go. He’s a good man.”
Storm padded in, dressed in a pink fairy outfit complete with glittering crown, wings and wand. “Mummy, I’m hungry,” she whined, her large eyes red rimmed from crying. Miranda frowned, hesitating a moment.
“Okay, I’ll see him,” she agreed hastily. “Can he come tomorrow morning? I know it’s Saturday but…”
“I’ll send him over.”
“Good. Thanks, Jeremy.” She hung up and turned to her daughter. “I’m making you eggy bread, darling. Are you all right?”
“Eggy bread?” exclaimed Gus, hovering in the doorway. “I hate eggy bread.”
“Gus, you’re in no position to complain about anything today. It’s either that or spaghetti.”
“Spaghetti,” said Gus.
Storm screwed up her nose. “I like eggy bread.”
“I’m not a restaurant. It’s spaghetti for both of you.” She couldn’t face a tantrum from Gus, and Storm wouldn’t complain. Storm scowled. “You can have as much ketchup as you like,” Miranda added to appease her. “I really don’t have the energy to fight with you today.”