The Turn of the Key by Ruth Ware

Author:Ruth Ware
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon
Published: 2019-08-05T16:00:00+00:00

I was so tired after my near sleepless night the night before that I bundled the girls upstairs to bed ridiculously early. To my surprise they didn’t protest, and I found myself wondering if they were as tired as I was.

Petra went down with no more than a token protest, and when I went to check on Maddie and Ellie they were both in their pajamas—or almost there, in the case of Ellie. I helped her figure out which way her top went and then shepherded them into the bathroom, where they did their teeth obediently as I stood over them.

“Do you want a story?” I asked as I tucked them into their little beds, and I saw Ellie’s eyes flicker to Maddie, looking for permission to speak. But Maddie shook her head.

“No. We’re too big for stories.”

“I know that’s not true,” I said, with a little laugh. “Everyone likes bedtime stories.”

Any other night I might have sat myself down, cracked open a book, and begun anyway, in defiance of Maddie’s refusals. But I was tired. I was so tired. Being with the girls all day from sunup to sunset was exhausting in a completely different way to the nursery, a way I hadn’t fully anticipated or understood until now. I thought of all the mums who had dropped their children off talking about how exhausted they were, and the slight contempt I’d felt for them when all they had to deal with was one or two at the most, but now I realized what they’d been talking about. It wasn’t as physical as the work at the nursery, or as intense, but it was the way it stretched, endlessly, the way the needing never stopped, and there was never a moment when you could hand them over to your colleague and run away for a quick fag break to just be yourself.

I was never off duty here. Or at least, not for the foreseeable future.

“I tell you what,” I said at last, seeing Ellie’s chin wobble. “How about I put on an audiobook?”

Pulling out my phone, I managed to navigate to the Happy media system, and then to the audio files, where I scrolled through the list of titles. The organization was confusing—there didn’t seem to be any distinction between the different file types, and Mozart was listed alongside Moana, Thelonious Monk, and L. M. Montgomery—but as I scrolled, I felt a little warm head thrust up under my arm, and Ellie’s small hand took the phone.

“I can show you,” she said, and pressed an icon that looked like a stylized panda bear, and then another icon that looked like a flattened out v, but which I realized, as Ellie pressed it, must be supposed to indicate books.

A list of children’s audiobooks flashed up.

“Do you know which one you want?” I asked, but she shook her head, and scanning the list, I selected one at random—The Sheep Pig by Dick King-Smith, which seemed perfect. Long, calming, and nice and wholesome.

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