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The Girl Below(29)

By:Bianca Zander


“On the other side of it, if you were mostly a geek and did all your homework on time, you could get away with bunking because the teachers didn’t have time to come down hard on everyone—only the ones who were failing.”

“I’m not a geek,” said Caleb.

“I know, but you might get away with more if you at least did your homework.”

He thought this over for a moment. “That sounds naff.”

“It worked for me,” I said, and shrugged.

I glanced away and saw Pippa bustling across the café toward us. She looked happy—perhaps surprised to see that Caleb was still there. “I see you two have been getting along famously,” she said, eyeing the two empty cups on the table. “Caleb, you didn’t have a coffee, did you?”

“She had two,” Caleb said, with haste. “And an enormous ploughman’s lunch and a muffin.”

“Well, good for you,” said Pippa, smiling broadly at me. “Told you the food here was delicious.”

Caleb stood up. “Can we go now? All the new games will be gone.”

“What kind of games?” I asked, curious.

Caleb looked at his mother—clearly warning her not to say anything.

“There’s this one with a cute purple dragon,” said Pippa. “It flies around a castle, rescuing princesses and collecting treasure. What’s it called again, darling?” She glanced at Caleb, who was giving her a dark look.

“I haven’t played that for about five years,” he said.

“Well,” she continued, “whatever it is, we have to restrict his use or he’ll play it twenty-four hours a day—no toilet breaks or even dinner.” She patted Caleb’s slim torso and laughed. “If he ate any less, he’d disappear.”

“Mum! Can we please just go?” His petulance made him seem younger, still a child. He didn’t even have chin fluff yet, I noticed.

“Wait for me outside,” said Pippa, and once he’d gone, added, “I’m sorry he was such a little shit.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ve all been there.”

“Well, I’m really very grateful to you, and I wanted to ask if you’re still sleeping on your friend’s couch?”

“It’s getting to be a bit of a problem,” I said, tired of pretending.

“Splendid,” said Pippa. “Because I have a proposition for you.”

Before she even told me what it was, I started to feel uneasy.

“We got our dates muddled up and Peggy’s nurse, Amanda, has booked to go on leave right before our holiday. It took us so long to find someone Peggy likes that I can’t bear the thought of trying to find a temp. I visit every day, of course, but she needs someone there the rest of the time to make sure she doesn’t get into any bother. She’s still very frail, and can’t do everything for herself.”

I saw where this was going and was filled with dread—mainly because of Madeline, and what had happened on my last visit to Peggy’s apartment. But Pippa misread my thoughts, and added, hastily, “We wouldn’t expect you to do any of the messy stuff—changing sheets and all that. It’s more that she needs companionship. She gets lonely, especially at night.”

“You want me to stay over with her? In her flat?” Just saying the words sent a chill through me.

“Well, yes. You’d have your own room. Either her old one or Harold’s, seeing as she’s moved into mine.”

It didn’t matter which room I was in—I was never going to spend the night there. “Can I think it over?” I said.

“Sure.” Pippa seemed surprised that I hadn’t accepted. “It’s only for a week. We’re all going to Greece after that. Peggy too.”

I glanced over at the café door and saw Caleb scowling in at us. “I’ll call you,” I said. “I think I have a temping assignment next week.”

“Of course,” said Pippa, clearly disappointed. “You’ve got my number.”

After they left, I went for a walk through the Holland Park woods, where I’d often played as a child. My prep school had been nearby, behind a church, and we had walked to the park in crocodile formation, two by two, holding hands, in every sort of weather. The park had been the scene of some of my greatest humiliations, and, when I thought about it, absolutely none of my triumphs. The worst had been my attempt, in front of the entire class, to scale the six-foot-high metal fence that ran down the middle of the park, separating the sports fields from the cycle lane. At the top of the fence, I’d balanced for a moment between two metal spikes, then jumped, only to be snagged by the hem of my gray gabardine skirt. I had hung upside down from the fence, flailing and screaming, for just long enough to wet my pants before the fabric ripped from arse to hem and I fell.