hurt yourself.’ Stella pointed to Blue’s short, ragged-edged nails with their chipped red polish. Blue stopped and pulled the sleeves of her top over her hands.
‘Does your mother know you’ve come here to see my husband?’ Stella asked.
‘No.’
‘She might think something has happened to you. We have to contact her.’
Blue peered up at Stella from under her fringe. Stella imagined a flicker of guilt in her expression.
‘You don’t even know my mother,’ Blue said. ‘Why should you care?’
‘My husband won’t be home until much later. We can’t leave your mum waiting that long. I need to know your home telephone number.’
‘I don’t have to tell you anything.’
Stella, tired of watching Blue dismember her sandwich, went to retrieve the half-empty bottle of Chardonnay from the living-room coffee table and poured herself a glass. It was not a good idea to drink on top of her pills, but what the hell.
Blue stared at Stella and at the glass of wine. ‘You don’t have any Coke but you’ve got wine,’ she said. She appeared to be making some sort of accusation.
Stella took another sip.
‘It’s not even six o’clock,’ Blue said.
‘I don’t usually drink at this time,’ Stella said. ‘I’m in shock – you, turning up at my front door, and saying that my husband is your father. Do you know someone who drinks too much?’
The girl nodded.
‘Is it your mum?’ Stella asked.
‘Vodka,’ Blue said. ‘She thinks it doesn’t smell but I still know.’
‘Is there anyone else that looks after you? Grandparents?’
‘Just me and my mum,’ Blue said. She stretched her arms above her head so that her T-shirt rode up even further, exposing more of her flat belly and then her sharp hipbones. She reached across the table to lift up Stella’s glass. ‘Does he like this wine?’ she asked.
Stella wondered if Blue had inherited her beauty from her mother. Again, that unreasonable flicker of jealousy. She wondered if Max might be happy to have a daughter, andwhether Blue might have more claim to his heart than she herself did. She hoped this girl was not his.
‘How many bedrooms does this house have?’ Blue asked.
‘Quite a few.’
‘It’s so quiet,’ Blue said. ‘I don’t like this place, it gives me the creeps.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Stella said.
‘How long have you been married?’ Blue asked. She rocked back and forth, teetering on the back legs of her chair. It was extremely irritating to watch her.
‘A little more than a year.’
‘You’re younger than he is.’ Blue looked thoughtfully at Stella, examining her face. ‘His hair is sort of grey,’ she said.
‘I thought you said you’d never met him?’
‘I saw his photograph. On the internet.’
Blue took a sip from Stella’s glass. ‘Mm,’ she said. She lifted the bottle of wine and filled the glass to the brim.
‘I don’t think you should drink that,’ Stella said.
Blue took a long drink. Stella wondered if she was responsible for the girl, simply because she had lied her way into her house. She supposed she was, especially if she did turn out to be Max’s daughter. Max might care about the girl. He might expect Stella to keep her safe. The rounded slippery plastic of her chair felt hard and uncomfortable against her back. She was sure Max would not abandon a daughter, if he knew one existed.
‘That’s enough wine,’ Stella said, more forcefully. It had been a long time since she had taken responsibility for anything or anyone.
Blue paused, long enough to give Stella a defiant look, before taking another swig. She kept drinking until she had polished off almost all the wine, then she lifted the bottle asif to pour herself a refill. Stella reached across, took hold of the neck of the glass and yanked it away. Wine splashed across Blue’s lips and down over her precious jacket.
‘I said: that’s enough.’ Stella banged the glass down on to the table top.
‘Bitch,’ Blue
‘Does your mother know you’ve come here to see my husband?’ Stella asked.
‘No.’
‘She might think something has happened to you. We have to contact her.’
Blue peered up at Stella from under her fringe. Stella imagined a flicker of guilt in her expression.
‘You don’t even know my mother,’ Blue said. ‘Why should you care?’
‘My husband won’t be home until much later. We can’t leave your mum waiting that long. I need to know your home telephone number.’
‘I don’t have to tell you anything.’
Stella, tired of watching Blue dismember her sandwich, went to retrieve the half-empty bottle of Chardonnay from the living-room coffee table and poured herself a glass. It was not a good idea to drink on top of her pills, but what the hell.
Blue stared at Stella and at the glass of wine. ‘You don’t have any Coke but you’ve got wine,’ she said. She appeared to be making some sort of accusation.
Stella took another sip.
‘It’s not even six o’clock,’ Blue said.
‘I don’t usually drink at this time,’ Stella said. ‘I’m in shock – you, turning up at my front door, and saying that my husband is your father. Do you know someone who drinks too much?’
The girl nodded.
‘Is it your mum?’ Stella asked.
‘Vodka,’ Blue said. ‘She thinks it doesn’t smell but I still know.’
‘Is there anyone else that looks after you? Grandparents?’
‘Just me and my mum,’ Blue said. She stretched her arms above her head so that her T-shirt rode up even further, exposing more of her flat belly and then her sharp hipbones. She reached across the table to lift up Stella’s glass. ‘Does he like this wine?’ she asked.
Stella wondered if Blue had inherited her beauty from her mother. Again, that unreasonable flicker of jealousy. She wondered if Max might be happy to have a daughter, andwhether Blue might have more claim to his heart than she herself did. She hoped this girl was not his.
‘How many bedrooms does this house have?’ Blue asked.
‘Quite a few.’
‘It’s so quiet,’ Blue said. ‘I don’t like this place, it gives me the creeps.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Stella said.
‘How long have you been married?’ Blue asked. She rocked back and forth, teetering on the back legs of her chair. It was extremely irritating to watch her.
‘A little more than a year.’
‘You’re younger than he is.’ Blue looked thoughtfully at Stella, examining her face. ‘His hair is sort of grey,’ she said.
‘I thought you said you’d never met him?’
‘I saw his photograph. On the internet.’
Blue took a sip from Stella’s glass. ‘Mm,’ she said. She lifted the bottle of wine and filled the glass to the brim.
‘I don’t think you should drink that,’ Stella said.
Blue took a long drink. Stella wondered if she was responsible for the girl, simply because she had lied her way into her house. She supposed she was, especially if she did turn out to be Max’s daughter. Max might care about the girl. He might expect Stella to keep her safe. The rounded slippery plastic of her chair felt hard and uncomfortable against her back. She was sure Max would not abandon a daughter, if he knew one existed.
‘That’s enough wine,’ Stella said, more forcefully. It had been a long time since she had taken responsibility for anything or anyone.
Blue paused, long enough to give Stella a defiant look, before taking another swig. She kept drinking until she had polished off almost all the wine, then she lifted the bottle asif to pour herself a refill. Stella reached across, took hold of the neck of the glass and yanked it away. Wine splashed across Blue’s lips and down over her precious jacket.
‘I said: that’s enough.’ Stella banged the glass down on to the table top.
‘Bitch,’ Blue
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