My Lovely Daughter by R.P. Bolton

Author:R.P. Bolton [Bolton, R.P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2022-06-15T17:00:00+00:00

Then

‘Ta dah!’ Lauren smoothed one hand over her flat belly.

‘Very glamorous,’ Annie answered, taking in the clingy leopard-print dress, fringed leather bag and skyscraper heels. ‘Also, very tall.’

Wobbling slightly, Lauren pushed the pram into the hall and peered in the mirror. Her newly bleached hair was almost white, and her eyebrows pencilled into two thin, dark arches.

She blinked rapidly, pressed her little finger to the corner of her eye. ‘Is my eyelash coming off?’

Annie inspected the feathery strip. ‘I don’t think so. Where are you going?’

Sliding the long leather fringe on her bag between her fingers, Lauren spoke slowly, ‘We-e-e-lll, Alannah’s been seeing the DJ at this club who’s got us tickets for a big thing tonight. And Alannah’s auntie was supposed to babysit but now she says I’ve got to give her twenty quid and if I give her that, I can’t go out anyway so I was hoping …’

There was an expectant pause.

Keziah’s dimpled fists curled by her chin, like a prizefighter. It had been T-shirt weather all day, and the rounded cheeks were tinged pink.

‘Not got plans, have you?’

Did channel-hopping and a bar of Dairy Milk count? Probably not.

Lauren brushed a stray fleck of mascara from under her eye. ‘Come on. Please. I’ve been trapped inside like a prisoner for weeks. And Keziah wants Auntie Annabel to give her cuddles, don’t you, baby?’

Flattening herself against the wall, Annie let Lauren squeeze past, negotiating the narrow hallway and parking the too-big pram next to the coffee table.

Annie put the back of her hand to the baby’s forehead. Too warm. She removed the fleece blanket and the baby’s socks and wheeled the pram to where the light breeze rippled the curtains.

‘What time will you be back?’

Lauren pumped the air. ‘I knew you’d do it! Twelve.’

‘Should I feed her?’

‘I suppose so. If she’s hungry.’ Wiggling her toes, she added, ‘Do these go with the dress?’

‘These’ were beige vertiginous open-toed boots. The graze where she’d fallen against the table had scabbed over, but the bruise remained a deep grey smudge.

‘Yes. Your leg still looks sore. What about nappies and formula?’

‘In the bottom of the pram. You won’t need to do anything, she’ll just sleep anyway. Can you really see it?’

She lifted her leg and instantly wobbled on a single spindly heel.

‘Shit!’

‘Careful.’ Annie steadied one windmilling arm.

Lauren pressed both feet firmly to the ground.

‘Always bruised like a peach. It’ll be dark in the club, no one will see.’ She waggled her fingers. ‘See ya. Don’t wait up.’

Keziah was a little angel. No trouble, no drama. Unlike her mum.

Twelve o’clock came and went with no word from Lauren. At half past she rang and left a voicemail. At one, she sent a text. Nothing. She parked the pram next to the bed and lay on top of the covers.

She must have nodded off, because she woke to the acrid smell of a freshly lit cigarette and the muffled thud of a door closing. The alarm clock by the bed read 3.23am. Very much on the -ish side of twelve-ish.

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