Free The Rose Petal Beach by Dorothy Koomson Page B

home directing the packing. She’s six months pregnant and would be here doing this bit herself, too, if I’d let her. She’s pretty amazing. I can’t get her to slow down.’ Ah, married. The second he said that, I switched off the ‘available’ light I’d been metaphorically flashing and focused on his wedding ring – pretty unusual it was – and, most importantly, backed off. I liked the thrill of the chase, I liked that bit when you meet someone and you know it could go any way, but, as I said to you a minute ago, I’d been cheated on, my husband did it to me, my husband left me for someone else so I was not going to ‘go there’.
    I met Tami a little while later and I’ve been grateful ever since they’re in my life, that I’m like family to them, and them to me.
    The spurt of water on my tired body is a divine experience. There’s nothing like the first shower of the day to wake you up and get you going. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit unnerved about drivingpast Tami and Scotty’s last night and the lights being off. It’s so not like them. The last time that happened was when Cora’s appendix burst and she had to be rushed in for emergency surgery.
    I haven’t got time to drop in on the way to work, so it’ll have to be afterwards. Although once I’m in the office who knows what time I’ll leave? I’ve just got this nagging feeling that all is not well over there. I’ve got a feeling … Ahh, you’ll probably laugh at me, so I won’t finish what I was thinking. I’d better get on with this shower and then hit the road to Kent. Joy, joy, joy.

Tami
    ‘Rice Pops? Again?’ Cora protests when her bowl is full to the brim with small pieces of cereal.
    ‘You didn’t have Rice Pops yesterday, did you?’ I ask. Yesterday morning seems an age away.
    ‘No,’ she replies.
    ‘So what’s the problem?’
    ‘We always have Rice Pops.’
    ‘Apart from yesterday. And, if I recall correctly, the day before, as well. In fact, this is the first time you’ve had them all week.’
    ‘We always have Rice Pops,’ she repeats.
    ‘OK, Ansy, would you like Rice Pops?’ I ask, reaching for the pink and white spotted bowl in front of her to swap with Cora’s blue and white striped one.
    ‘OK, Mama,’ Ansy replies. ‘But I don’t want the ga-ga spoon, I want the BIG Wallace and Gromit one. Not the little one, the big one.’
    I make the swap and return my attention to Cora. ‘What would you like instead?’
    Her large brown eyes are swimming with tears, her mouth is turned down, while her pulled-in chin is wobbling.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ I ask.
    ‘I don’t want that bowl. It’s the baby bowl.’
    This morning they woke up within minutes of each other in the big bed and both lay very still, looking around them, taking in the surroundings. They looked suspiciously at each other, then reached under the covers – and Cora discovered she was still wearing her jeans and Olympics T-shirt. Anansy, who always puts her pyjamason the moment she comes in from school to save time later, discovered she was still wearing her red towelling dressing gown.
    ‘Good morning, sleepyheads,’ I said brightly, trying to crowbar some normality into the day before fragments of last night came crashing in. I’d sat between them all night, drifting in and out of sleep, waiting for something to tell me that I’d imagined everything that had happened.
    ‘Morning, Mama,’ they mumbled, stretching and unknotting their young bodies. Slowly, their expressions changed and I could see what happened last night was playing in their minds. I put my arms around and hugged them. ‘We’re going to be OK,’ I said to them, dropping a kiss on each of their heads. ‘So will Dad. He’ll be OK, too, I promise.’ In response, they wrapped their arms around me, managing to avoid each other’s arms, and clung on.
    Right now, Cora and Anansy are telling me in their own ways that they didn’t believe me.
    ‘Here we go.’ I