I wanted to yank out every single one of my eyelashes with frustration, because even in my blinding rage and soaring anxiety, I knew that it might be true: having a father, a parent without a squillion freakoid big-bad-world-out-there issues, could make Joey’s life better.
However, I knew that having Sean Mansfield step in to try playing Daddy could also make our lives a whole lot worse.
Blugh. Even the baby panda going down the slide in a straw hat wasn’t enough at this point.
I shut down the laptop and dragged my stressed-out bones to bed.
31
Stop Being a Loser Programme
Day Seventy-Three
The following morning, unable to bear thrashing around under my duvet torturing myself with increasingly disturbing potential Sean-scenarios for one more minute, I set off extra early to meet the Larks.
I decided to kill a bit of time with a dawdled detour along Foxglove Lane, past a row of decrepit cottages and a brand-new barn conversion. At the barn driveway, I paused to ogle the huge window spanning both storeys of the building. There was a light on, and I have to confess to a teensy bit of nosying at the gallery balcony inside, admiring the beautiful furnishings and rustic-yet-contemporary kitchen. I mean, if you’re going to put in an enormous window, and no blinds, you have to expect passers-by to take a sneaky peak. You probablywantpeople to appreciate your magazine-worthy interior. So, when the front door swung open, accompanied by several exterior lights flashing on, there wasn’t really any reason for me to jump behind the nearest bush.
Having found myself there, however, when footsteps began scrunching down the gravel drive towards me, I realised that reappearing out from behind the undergrowth now would require some sort of explanation for why I was lurking behind a bush right outside their house at six in the freezing cold morning. Either that or I’d have to run away, and despite recent improvements, my current fitness levels could in no way guarantee the footsteps wouldn’t catch up with me.
I edged deeper into the foliage as a horror-show flickered through my head, involving being restrained by the house owner until the police arrived, Moira Vanderbeek hot on their tail, swiftly followed by a front-page exposé on Amelia Piper’s descent into a life of petty crime.
The footsteps crunched closer. I held my breath, my anxiety rendered speechless for once.
And then they rounded the corner of the bushes, straight into the glow from the nearest lamp post.
Well.
All the pent-up air burst out of my lungs, immediately followed by a strangled wheeze-in to compensate.
The person wheeled round in my direction, the radiant grin which had meant it took a couple of seconds to recognise her instantly replaced with a wary scowl.
‘Who’s there?’ she stammered.
I should have run. There was no way Audrey would have caught up with me. Especially not in those heels.
‘I know someone’s in the bush,’ Audrey said. ‘The leaves are rustling.’
Well, perhaps it’s a squirrel, up early to gather nuts. Or a wood pigeon? A badger? Come on, Audrey, use your imagination.
‘I can see the reflective stripes on your trousers!’
Darn Joey’s health and safety obsession! A woman can’t get any decent privacy any more.
‘Audrey? Darling?’ a man’s voice wafted down the drive.
Darling?My ears must have grown a good few millimetres, they were straining so hard. More crunching footsteps.
‘Is everything all right? You need to get home before your mother wakes up.’ Through the bushes, I saw the man come to stand by Audrey, placing one hand on her shoulder. He had white hair, a bushy beard, and appeared to be wearing a dressing gown and wellington boots. Was this Audrey’s dad? I knew Selena was divorced – maybe it had been so acrimonious that Audrey had to visit him in secret. Slightly strange, visiting before six in the morning. But perhaps she’d ended up falling asleep on the sofa last night, and, well, I could understand Audrey going to extreme lengths to avoid yet more hassle from her mum.
‘There’s someone hiding in that bush.’
‘What?’ The man whirled round to face me, peering closer. ‘Who is it?’ he demanded. ‘Come out at once or I’ll call the police.’
Oh, no, please… an innocent peep at some nice decor was spiralling into a nightmare.
‘Be careful,’ Audrey rubbed her dad’s (grandad’s?) hunched shoulder. ‘Don’t provoke them. Think about your heart.’
I braced, tried to force my legs to move out into the open, but they had frozen stiff like two stripy glow-in-the-dark ice pops.
