world. But gradually the way it works changes; our
children start caring for us, taking responsibility and protecting us. And then we realise we have no more wisdom to pass on because the world has changed and our wisdom is out of date. And then
they have their own babies, and we realise that our children are now the ones who must pass down wisdom and be looked up to and adored, and we, sadly, are slowly fading from the picture, making way
for the next in line.’ She sighed a little shakily. ‘Goodness, whatever’s the matter with me. I’m becoming all maudlin, and we haven’t even had a sherry
yet.’
*
When I got home, Duncan was standing in the hallway with the phone in his hand and a slightly perturbed look on his face. He smiled when he saw me, and nodded towards the
handset. ‘That was another one. Another funny phone call. You haven’t got yourself a secret lover, have you?’ he said affably. ‘You know, “if a man answers, hang
up”?’
‘Did you do 1471?’ I tried to sound light, but I realised that there was an edge to my voice.
He shrugged, then picked up the handset again and punched in the numbers. ‘Hmm, withheld number.’
I felt my blood cool.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On Sunday afternoon, we were getting ready to head off to the woods for a walk with Monty. I tried to persuade Hannah to join us but Marcus had taken Toby out so she was going
to go back to bed for a while. Her voice sounded dull and flat; she hadn’t been herself at all since Toby arrived. I’d always assumed she’d take motherhood in her stride. So had
she, I think; my poor Hannah. I’d seen a lot of tired new mothers, but I’d begun to wonder if it might be more than that.
I was trying to tie the laces of my walking boots when a violent surge of nausea rose up inside me. I sat back heavily on the stairs; I could see slivers of light shooting downwards at the edge
of my vision.
‘Darling, are you all right?’ Duncan was at my side in an instant. ‘You’ve gone grey.’
It took me a moment to answer because I was concentrating on not throwing up. ‘I’ll be all right in a minute. I think it’s a migraine tuning up. Could you grab my
pills.’
He put his hand on my forehead, like I used to do with Hannah when she was little and I was checking for a fever. ‘I didn’t know you still got migraines.’
‘I haven’t had one for ages. I don’t know why it should start again now.’
Duncan handed me a pink pill and a glass of water. Usually, that was enough to stop it, but if the pink pill didn’t do the trick, I had to take one of the yellow ones.
Monty was walking round and round in circles, his claws click-clicking on the wooden floor. Duncan hadn’t put his boots on yet and was standing there in his socks, looking concerned.
‘I’d better stay here,’ I said. ‘You go ahead. I just need to lie down for a while.’
Duncan looked at me for a moment. ‘You sure you’ll be all right?’ Again he rested his palm on my forehead and it was so soothing, I wished he could keep it there.
‘I’ll be fine. Hopefully it won’t get a grip. A couple of hours lying down in a darkened room’ll sort me out.’
Monty started to make impatient little noises. ‘Okay, fella.’ Duncan picked up the lead and Monty began leaping up to try and catch it in his mouth. Then he started jumping in
ecstatic circles until Duncan told him firmly to ‘sit!’ which he did instantly, tail thumping the floor, mouth open and smiling as he looked excitedly from one to the other of us.
Duncan caught hold of his collar and clipped his lead on, at which point Monty almost pulled him off his feet in the rush to get to the door.
I stayed where I was until the front door closed behind them and silence settled around me. Then I turned and climbed the stairs slowly, on my hands and knees. I couldn’t move too fast
because I could sense rather than feel the actual headache, there on the edge of my brain, poised like a predator
children start caring for us, taking responsibility and protecting us. And then we realise we have no more wisdom to pass on because the world has changed and our wisdom is out of date. And then
they have their own babies, and we realise that our children are now the ones who must pass down wisdom and be looked up to and adored, and we, sadly, are slowly fading from the picture, making way
for the next in line.’ She sighed a little shakily. ‘Goodness, whatever’s the matter with me. I’m becoming all maudlin, and we haven’t even had a sherry
yet.’
*
When I got home, Duncan was standing in the hallway with the phone in his hand and a slightly perturbed look on his face. He smiled when he saw me, and nodded towards the
handset. ‘That was another one. Another funny phone call. You haven’t got yourself a secret lover, have you?’ he said affably. ‘You know, “if a man answers, hang
up”?’
‘Did you do 1471?’ I tried to sound light, but I realised that there was an edge to my voice.
He shrugged, then picked up the handset again and punched in the numbers. ‘Hmm, withheld number.’
I felt my blood cool.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On Sunday afternoon, we were getting ready to head off to the woods for a walk with Monty. I tried to persuade Hannah to join us but Marcus had taken Toby out so she was going
to go back to bed for a while. Her voice sounded dull and flat; she hadn’t been herself at all since Toby arrived. I’d always assumed she’d take motherhood in her stride. So had
she, I think; my poor Hannah. I’d seen a lot of tired new mothers, but I’d begun to wonder if it might be more than that.
I was trying to tie the laces of my walking boots when a violent surge of nausea rose up inside me. I sat back heavily on the stairs; I could see slivers of light shooting downwards at the edge
of my vision.
‘Darling, are you all right?’ Duncan was at my side in an instant. ‘You’ve gone grey.’
It took me a moment to answer because I was concentrating on not throwing up. ‘I’ll be all right in a minute. I think it’s a migraine tuning up. Could you grab my
pills.’
He put his hand on my forehead, like I used to do with Hannah when she was little and I was checking for a fever. ‘I didn’t know you still got migraines.’
‘I haven’t had one for ages. I don’t know why it should start again now.’
Duncan handed me a pink pill and a glass of water. Usually, that was enough to stop it, but if the pink pill didn’t do the trick, I had to take one of the yellow ones.
Monty was walking round and round in circles, his claws click-clicking on the wooden floor. Duncan hadn’t put his boots on yet and was standing there in his socks, looking concerned.
‘I’d better stay here,’ I said. ‘You go ahead. I just need to lie down for a while.’
Duncan looked at me for a moment. ‘You sure you’ll be all right?’ Again he rested his palm on my forehead and it was so soothing, I wished he could keep it there.
‘I’ll be fine. Hopefully it won’t get a grip. A couple of hours lying down in a darkened room’ll sort me out.’
Monty started to make impatient little noises. ‘Okay, fella.’ Duncan picked up the lead and Monty began leaping up to try and catch it in his mouth. Then he started jumping in
ecstatic circles until Duncan told him firmly to ‘sit!’ which he did instantly, tail thumping the floor, mouth open and smiling as he looked excitedly from one to the other of us.
Duncan caught hold of his collar and clipped his lead on, at which point Monty almost pulled him off his feet in the rush to get to the door.
I stayed where I was until the front door closed behind them and silence settled around me. Then I turned and climbed the stairs slowly, on my hands and knees. I couldn’t move too fast
because I could sense rather than feel the actual headache, there on the edge of my brain, poised like a predator
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