Don't Come Looking by Campbell A. J

Author:Campbell, A. J. [Campbell, A. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781838109110
Amazon: 1838109110
Goodreads: 57088106
Publisher: Code Grey Publishing
Published: 2021-04-17T07:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

DAY 7

‘How long until Gill gets here, Mummy?’ Joe asks. He is standing with Isabella next to the kitchen counter, scooping flour into a mixing bowl. They have raided the dressing up box already. Joe is wearing a triceratops costume complete with horns and beady eyes. Isabella looks equally as cute dressed as a winged fairy, waving a wooden spoon like a magic wand. I have said for weeks that I will teach them how to make pancakes, and when they woke me this morning, they wouldn’t let me forget.

I yawn. It’s only seven-thirty, but they insisted on getting up an hour ago. By the time we’d finished clearing up after the party last night, and Sasha’s friend was ready to give us a lift, Jim and I didn’t get home until gone one, so I’ve left him sleeping. Another night of pain will keep him there at least another hour.

‘Anytime soon,’ I say, kissing my son’s perfectly smooth cheek.

‘How long is she staying for?’ Isabella asks.

‘The whole week. I’ve already told you. While Mel is on holiday.’

‘Yippee.’ Joe claps his hands. Despite my head throbbing from too much alcohol and lack of sleep – not to mention the emotional upset – I share his excitement. It’s been three months since Gill last visited, and that’s far too long.

Joe cocks his head to one side and squints at me with the pensive look of a curious child. ‘Why don’t you call her Mummy?’

‘Because she’s not my mummy.’

‘You love her more than Grandma.’

So cutely intuitive.

‘Now make a well in the middle of the flour like this.’ I take the wooden spoon from Isabella and hollow out the bottom of the bowl. She grabs it back to continue the task.

‘Now we need to crack the eggs into the middle,’ I say, mulling over the events of last night. What a disaster! But that’s what lies and deceit do to a family.

‘I’ll do it. Let me. I want to,’ Isabella says, bouncing up and down with her usual hunger for life. Like I can see Joe in Jim, my daughter is a mini-me in the personality department – always wanting to get involved, always seeking a solution.

‘One each.’ I pass them both an egg and out poke their tongues as they carefully crack the eggs into the bowl and fish out bits of shell. Once they have stirred until they can stir no more, they run off, leaving me to clean the worktops.

I pack a picnic ready for our trip to the beach, and, as I’m clearing up, the doorbell rings. I rush to answer it. There Gill stands, as always, with the same wiry hair and the same loyal smile. She hands over a generous bunch of flowers, and I fall into the familiar relief of comfort her hugs always give me. I swallow the lump in the back of my throat as I tell her it’s been too long.

‘I know, I know, but now I’m retired, life seems to have got even busier,’ she says.

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