Читать книгу I'll Be There For You - Kerry Barrett - Страница 10

Chapter 2

We had a lovely day. The twins adored being the centre of attention and Clemmie, who hadn’t yet learned how to crawl, sat on the grass and shouted in delight. My mum had bought Finn and Fifi each a baby walker for their birthday, and Finn charged round the garden on his little fat legs, chuckling madly at how clever he was. Fifi watched her brother but wouldn’t try walking no matter how much her big cousins ‒ Lou’s nephews ‒ encouraged her.

Later, after Hugh and his family had gone, and we’d sung happy birthday ‒ twice ‒ and blown the candles out ‒ twice ‒ and all eaten our fill of cake, Jamie and Esme’s stepdad, Doug slid, inside to watch rugby on the TV. Clemmie was fast asleep in her pram. Lou, Esme and I sat happily at the garden table enjoying the soft spring air and chatting.

‘I think you’d really like the women at my baby group,’ Esme was saying. ‘They’re all so nice.’

I made a face. Baby groups weren’t my thing.

‘I’ve got work,’ I said, vaguely.

Esme winked at me.

‘Nope,’ she said. ‘It’s on Thursday – that’s your day off, right?’

‘Harry would love to come,’ Louise said. Traitor.

I kicked her under the table.

‘I’m not really the yummy mummy type,’ I said. ‘Lou does that stuff.’

Lou and I both worked part time so we shared the childcare when the kids weren’t at nursery. She had made an enormous amount of friends at baby sensory classes, twin club, singing groups and all sorts. I normally spent my days with the kids walking for miles along the river, or round the streets of the New Town, and occasionally meeting up with Esme. I had thought about joining some groups – baby yoga perhaps – or finding a witchy baby group even, there were bound to be some – but I was at heart a solitary soul and I’d not got round to it. I wasn’t sure Esme’s group would be my cup of tea.

‘I’ll think about it,’ I said. ‘Maybe I’ll come along once.’

‘Great,’ said Esme and Louise gave me a broad smile. I knew she thought I was lonely but actually I enjoyed my own company – and I loved being with Finn and Fifi.

I looked over to where the kids were playing on the lawn, with Mum and my Auntie Tess ‒ Esme’s mum. They were trying to cajole Fifi into taking a few steps.

‘Where’s Pink Bunny?’ Mum asked. Pink Bunny was Fifi’s favourite toy. ‘Maybe if we put it a little bit away from her, she’ll go and get it.’

Lou found the bunny under the table and threw it to Mum, who caught it deftly.

‘Look Fifi,’ she said, waving the toy in Fiona’s face. ‘It’s Pink Bunny.’

Fifi eyed Mum with suspicion and held out her little hands for her bunny.

‘I’m just going to put him over here,’ Mum said. She placed the toy carefully on the grass, too far away for Fifi to reach.

‘Mum, you’re so cruel,’ I said, giggling at Fiona’s stern face.

Lou helped herself to another slice of cake.

‘She’ll just crawl over and get it, Suky,’ she pointed out to Mum. ‘She’s got an iron will, our daughter.’

But Fiona didn’t crawl. She stared at Pink Bunny for a while. Then she looked at Mum and back at Pink Bunny. She lifted her hand and waggled her little chubby fingers. There was a shimmer of light and the bunny jumped off the ground and flew into Fiona’s hands. Finn clapped in delight. Fifi stuck her thumb in her mouth and stared at Mum in triumph. The rest of us all stared at Fiona.

‘Ooooh,’ Lou breathed out.

Mum scooped Fiona up off the grass and covered her face in kisses.

‘You clever, clever girl,’ she said. Fifi giggled and Finn put his arms up so Mum could pick him up too.

Lou looked at me.

‘Looks like she’s a chip off the old block,’ she said, with a grin. ‘Your old block, at least.’

Louise wasn’t a witch, but she was so accepting of my family’s quirks that I sometimes forgot she didn’t have the – ahem – talents we had. When we’d decided to adopt a child, we’d managed to find an agency that placed children of witches though, of course, there was never any guarantee that witchcraft skills would be passed on – no one was quite sure how these things worked. The twins’ natural mother was a teenage witch. According to our social worker (who was also a witch – they were everywhere if you knew where to look), her skills were unpredictable and uncontrolled and she had suffered badly with the mental health problems that often plagued people like us – my brother had suffered in the same way. Knowing their mum was a witch meant it was no real shock that at least one of our kids had inherited her talents but I was surprised Fiona had showed signs so young.

I pushed back my chair and went over to where Finn stood, balancing on his baby walker and reaching up for a cuddle. I picked him up and kissed his rosy cheeks.

‘Hello, my boy,’ I said. He patted my face adoringly.

‘Mamamama,’ he said.

Fifi wriggled in Mum’s arms, wanting to be part of my love-in with Finn. I sat down on the grass and pulled both kids into a cuddle. They both stared at me with their identical sludgy-green eyes.

‘Now then, kids,’ I said. ‘This is a big day for Fiona.’

Fiona sucked her thumb gravely, clutching Pink Bunny. I ruffled her fair curls.

‘Life’s not going to be easy for you,’ I went on. ‘But me and Mummy Lou are going to be here every step of the way.’

Finn lost interest. He clambered off my lap and crawled over to investigate Clemmie’s toys.

Fiona snuggled in closer to me, her eyes heavy with sleep. I stood up and took her back to the table, enjoying the warmth of my beautiful baby girl.

‘Shall we have some wine?’ Mum asked. ‘I feel we should celebrate.’

‘Definitely,’ Lou said. ‘I’ll get it, I need the loo anyway.’

She disappeared into the house and I felt a wave of relief that I was pinned under a sleeping child and no one had expected me to summon a bottle in my usual way.

Because the truth was, that I couldn’t. Since the twins had arrived, my powers had become unpredictable. At first they were haphazard and uncontrolled, then they’d gradually dwindled to nothing. Now I couldn’t so much as conjure up a birthday cake or ‒ I wound one of Fiona’s curls round my little finger ‒ summon a cuddly toy. My one-year-old daughter had more witchcraft in her chubby hands than I did. And that made me feel terrible.