The Happy Family by Jackie Kabler (electric book reader txt) 📕

my head. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Everything feels so strange …

I feel better after a shower, and when I go into Finley’s room to see how he is I find to my surprise that he’s already out of bed and attempting to pull his school shorts on over his bulky bandage.

‘I want to go, Mum,’ he insists when I protest. ‘And I can walk fine. Look! With my crutches it’s fun!’

He’s supposed to keep the weight off his ankle for at least three days and Mum said last night that she’d be delighted to look after him if he was staying home from school, but he’s swinging quite happily up and down the narrow strip of carpet by his bed now, already a competent crutch user, and I don’t have the energy to argue.

‘Fine. OK. But I’m going to ring the school and ask them to keep an eye on you. And you must stay sitting down at break times. Deal?’

He shrugs.

‘Deal.’

I’m pretty sure Robin isn’t going to turn up for the school run, not after last night, and I’m right. Her usual arrival time approaches and then passes, and when, anxiety gnawing at my stomach, I call her number, there’s no reply. I leave a message, but she doesn’t call back. She’s really angry with me, clearly, and I don’t blame her. What possessed me to attack her like that? Now, in the clear light of a fresh morning, it’s glaringly obvious that it’s me who was responsible for everything I accused her of. It must have been me who screwed up the central heating settings, and it was definitely me who made such a cock-up of putting the trampoline together. I need to get hold of her, to apologise, to beg her to come back, but right now I don’t have time.

‘Mum, I’m so sorry about this, but Robin’s obviously not coming today … Would you mind doing the school run? Finley won’t be able to walk so it’ll have to be a cab. I hate to ask, but I can’t be late for work, not today. We have too much on, and—’

‘Shush, shush, of course!’ She’s raising a hand, smiling. I know she heard the argument with Robin last night but when she came downstairs she simply asked me if I was OK, then left it at that. I’m wondering if I should try to explain now but she’s already bustling away, opening the cupboard where I keep the breakfast cereals and asking Finley and Eloise what they fancy this morning.

Finley requests ‘a huge bowl of porridge, please Grandma’ and, injured ankle clearly not affecting his appetite or his mood, starts chattering to his sister about something to do with Spiderman. Mum smiles indulgently, then her eyes meet mine across the room and she says quietly, ‘And don’t worry about Robin. I’m sure you can sort it out, whatever it was, if you really want to. But I did say from the beginning I wasn’t sure about her, love. So if you want to let her go, I’m more than happy to step in and help, you know that. Now you get off to work and stop stressing.’

‘Thank you so much. I really don’t know what I’d do without you at the moment,’ I say, and she blows me a kiss.

‘Lucky you don’t have to, then,’ she says. ‘Now, scoot!’

I scoot. I’m still feeling fragile, but the relief of knowing Mum’s happy to take over while I sort this mess out means that when I get into the surgery I find myself able to focus on work; the job is once more a welcome distraction. I need to organise maternity cover for Ally, one of our part-time receptionists, so I draft an advert and send it to the local paper, then pop the details on the surgery Facebook page too. At lunchtime I go into the staffroom to make a cup of coffee and find Ruth and Deborah sitting at the table, lunchboxes open in front of them. I saw them briefly first thing for just long enough to reassure them that Finley was well and cheerful this morning, but I have a few minutes to spare now so I sit down at the table, ready for a chat.

‘Hey, you two,’ I say. ‘Mmmm, is that lemon drizzle?’

Ruth grins. She’s wearing a black silk blouse today with a pussy bow tied neatly at the neck.

‘It is. Made by my own fair hands. Want a bit?’

I’m tempted – the cake looks moist and delicious with a light lemon glaze on top of fluffy sponge – but I shake my head reluctantly.

‘Better not. Too much cake going into this belly recently.’

I pat my stomach and Ruth raises her eyebrows.

‘Shut up, you look fine. But hey, all the more for me.’

She picks up the slice of cake and takes a bite. I turn to Deborah, who’s poking what looks like a tuna sandwich with a finger in a desultory fashion, a blank look on her face. She looks pale and tired; her hair is scraped back from her face in a tight little bun and her skin is free of make-up.

‘You OK, Debs? Going to eat that or just irritate it?’

She looks up abruptly, as if surprised to hear my voice, then gives me a small smile.

‘Oh, sorry, Beth. I was miles away. No, not very hungry. In fact, I might just head back to my room and get sorted for this afternoon. I’ll see you both later, OK?’

She closes the lid of her plastic lunchbox, picks it up, and leaves the room. I frown.

‘Ruth, what’s wrong with her? She’s been acting oddly for ages now. Do you know what’s going on?’

Ruth opens her mouth as if to speak, then closes it again. There’s a moment of silence, then she says, ‘I think she’s just knackered, needs a holiday, you know what it’s like. And now I’ve got to go too, sorry. Want to get some