All the Little Things Sarah Lawton (red white royal blue TXT) 📖

slide. ‘Mummy, watch me!’ To Rachel’s horror, Vivian twisted at the top and threw herself down it backward, ending up sprawled on the tarmac.

‘Vivian!’ she shouted, running over to scoop her off the ground. ‘You aren’t supposed to go down the slide like that!’

‘Why not?’ asked her daughter, seeming unperturbed by the nasty graze on her shoulder, which Rachel was inspecting as she pulled her away. ‘It doesn’t hurt. It’s boring doing it the normal way.’

‘Well, we’ll have to go home now so I can clean this. You’re bleeding.’

‘No! I don’t want to go home yet!’ Vivian began to tug at Rachel’s hand, leaning away and letting her legs go limp so all her weight was on her arm. She screamed, ‘You’re hurting me!’ Several faces turned their way and Rachel could feel heat creeping up the back of her neck and into her cheeks.

‘You’re hurting yourself!’ she hissed, mortified by her suddenly kicking and screaming child. ‘Stand up properly!’ As suddenly as the tantrum had started, it stopped. Vivian stood up and pulled her hand away with a sharp jerk, her features stony, her mouth in a distinct pout. Rachel picked up her hand again. ‘We can come back later, or Nana will bring you, okay? I might need to do a bit of work this afternoon.’

Vivian didn’t say anything; she was silent the short walk home, not even asking for a Mr Whippy as they passed the ice-cream van that had pulled up by the gates to the park and was already surrounded by a gaggle of excited children and harassed parents digging into their pockets and bags. Suit yourself, thought Rachel. Always cutting your nose off to spite your face.

Back at home, and as soon as Rachel had finished cleaning the nasty scuff on her shoulder with an antiseptic wipe, which she accepted without even a murmur though it must have been sore, Vivian jumped down from the kitchen counter she’d been lifted onto and ran out and up the stairs to her room, shutting the door just too loudly behind her.

‘What’s all that about?’ asked Carol, coming out of the front room where she’d been watching her soaps. ‘Is she okay? I wasn’t expecting you back yet.’

‘She scraped her shoulder and didn’t want to come home to clean it,’ said Rachel. ‘She had a right shit fit in the park. Have you seen my phone? I need to check something.’

‘What happened to your free weekends?’ asked Carol, turning away with a sniff. ‘I’ll go and check on her. And no, I haven’t seen your phone.’

‘It was on charge,’ Rachel said to her retreating back, looking at the wire which was still plugged in, but was devoid of her phone on the end. She looked around the kitchen, lifting and moving various magazines and other detritus. It wasn’t there, and flipping all the cushions in the front room didn’t reveal it either. She’d put it on charge last night, she knew she had. It had been almost dead. She tried calling it from the landline, listening for vibrations, but there was no sign of it and it went straight to voicemail, her own voice asking her to leave a message.

Running up the stairs herself she went into Vivian’s room, where her mother and daughter were sitting on the bed. Vivian was still in her silent sulk, sitting stiffly on Carol’s lap as she fussed over her shoulder and stroked her hair.

‘Vivian, have you seen Mummy’s work phone?’

Pale grey eyes just looked at her coldly, her face unmoving.

‘No? Not been playing with it? You know you aren’t supposed to touch my work phone.’

Vivian just turned her face into Carol’s chest, refusing to look at her mother any more.

Stamping back down the stairs into the kitchen, Rachel looked around again, rooting through drawers and opening child-height cupboards. No sign of the phone. As she stood, a thought occurred to her, and she moved to the back door and tried the handle. It was open.

‘Mum!’ she shouted, ‘did you leave the back door open again?’

Carol came down, Vivian trailing silently behind her.

‘Did you open it this morning or has it been open all night again?’

Carol had the decency to look guilty rather than deny it outright. ‘Rachel, I’m sure—’

‘Sure what? That some crackhead has run in and nicked my phone? Like last time, when my bag went? And your sunglasses? It’s probably the same person! They probably think this house is a guaranteed mark! Mum, for god’s sake, anyone could have come in.’

‘I thought I locked it… I was sure I did… I had to open it when I was cooking dinner, but I thought I locked it…’ Carol trailed off, put her hand to her mouth.

‘Silly Nana,’ said Vivian, smiling.

Rachel

‘Vivian! Are you awake yet, darling?’

I heard movement from her bedroom, so despite the lack of a reply I decided she must be awake. I set some breakfast stuff out for her, cereal and the juice she liked, and then went upstairs to get my bag together for London. I really didn’t want to go, but the author of Prince of Dark Wings was really keen to meet with me in person and talk through the draft sketches I was doing. The publisher had paid for my train tickets, and I could be there and back by tonight.

I hadn’t been back to London in almost six years. I could almost taste it in my mouth, that dirty, grey city-slick over everything, cigarettes and traffic. I’d found it so enticing once, the city pulse. Not any more.

Vivian mooched into the kitchen and winced as she sat down.

‘Are you okay, Viv?’

‘Yeah. I just banged my hip at school yesterday.’

‘Ouch. Let’s have a look?’

She unwillingly slid down the side of her skirt and untucked her school shirt to show me a nasty green and purple bruise. There was so little to her that she often bruised badly, from even small knocks. When she was little her shins had always been so mottled