Читать книгу Envy - Amanda Robson, Amanda Robson - Страница 7

I watch you every day, walking past my flat on the way to the school drop-off, holding your older daughter’s hand, pushing the younger one along in the buggy. Sometimes strolling and chatting. Sometimes rushing. Usually wearing your gym kit. Judging by your body shape, your commitment to exercise is worth it. I wish I had a figure like yours.

Your older daughter has gappy teeth and straggly hair. Nowhere near as pretty as you. Your husband must have diluted the gene pool. The younger one, the toddler, is always asleep in the buggy. She looks to have stronger hair, and a chubbier face. I would have loved to have children, but I’ve never been in the right relationship.

I envy you, and have from the first moment I saw you scurry past. A moment I recall so well. I was bored. I had nothing to do but look out of my front window, and watch the world go by. Three p.m. Parents rushing to the primary school at pickup time. Parents, nannies, and then you. The woman I would look like if I could, moving past me. The image of my mother from my only remaining photograph. So similar you made me hold my breath.

A few days ago, when you dropped your gym card, I finally found out that your name is Faye Baker. You didn’t notice it fall from the back pocket of your jeans as you tightened your laces, did you? As you turned in to the school gates I left my flat, and crossed the road to pick it up. Later that day I handed it in to the school reception. Were you grateful, Faye?