“We’re home!” Cheryl shouted as she slammed the front door behind her. Sacha kicked off her scuffed shoes and came running to me, laughing. I’m still holding Diana, and I plaster a smile on my face and try and stop my hands from shaking.
“Kim! Look at my drawing! We did colouring-in today at lunch because it was raining, and I got to bring it home, but my teacher says that she wants to see it when it’s done!”
“Wow, it’s really good!” I glance at the felt-tip drawing of a girl holding a baby. “Is is you and Diana?”
She nods violently. I look over her head at Cheryl, who is balancing, taking her painfully high stiletto heels off.
“Do you want to go finish your picture and me and Cheryl will cook tea, yeah?”
“Okay!” she smiles, before kissing the top of Diana’s head and rummaging in her bag for her pencil case. I wonder where she gets all her energy from. When Sacha has gone into the living room I look at Cheryl.
“Hello beautiful baby” Cheryl coos
“You’re not too bad yourself” I laugh
“I wasn’t talking to you...” Cheryl pouts, and holds out her arms to take Diana from me. Carefully I place her in Cheryl’s arms.
“Are you okay?” I ask her quietly, so she won’t hear the shaky concern in my voice.
Cheryl doesn’t quite meet my eyes as she replies “yeah”
I pause, looking at her “Look...” I begin
She opens her mouth.
“I need to talk to you” we both say, at exactly the same time.
“Why?” We both reply. Cheryl’s face cracks into a smile.
“Come on” I take her hand and lead her into the kitchen.
She hops up onto one of the high barstools and looks at me expectantly, bouncing Diana up and down. I sit next to her.
“What’s up?” her voice is low, and she frowns.
My mouth suddenly feels very dry. I lick around my lips slowly, thinking about what to say. “Kim?” Her eyes are wide.
“He...he, Ashley. He called earlier.”
She closes her eyes slowly and takes a deep, shaky breath in. She purses her lips and lets the breath whistle out through her lips.
“What did he say?” her voice is higher than usual, on the brink of tears. I look at her hands, and one is clutching at the edge of the table, her knuckles white,
“Not much. I errm...I put the phone down pretty quick.”
“What did he say?” she repeats, even more faintly than before.
“He was drunk. And pretty damn angry. He asked where you were, and who I was.”
“What else?”
“Chez, please-”
“Kim” she looks at me. I can see the animalistic fear in her dark eyes. Her pupils are dilated, her skin is pale.
“He was drunk, he didn’t mean it...he said he was-that he would...” I take a deep, shuddering breath in, and I can’t look at her as I say “kill you.”
“Kill me?” her voice breaks. “That he wanted to kill me?”
I nod.
She looks at me.
