Free Stop the Clock by Alison Mercer Page A

you stood it for so long.’
    ‘She has her moments,’ Lucy said.
    Clemmie and Lottie had always loved listening to Hannah play. She put down the guitar next to everything else.
    Ellen said, ‘When are you going to tell me what’s going on?’
    ‘Ask Hannah,’ Lucy said. ‘Would eleven o’clock be OK to pick you up on Sunday?’
    ‘I suppose I’ll have to tell Hannah to keep out of your way when you come,’ Ellen said.
    ‘She will,’ Lucy said, and made good her escape.
    She got back just in time for the school pick-up. Back home, once she’d given the girls a snack and encouraged them to change out of their uniforms and into something nice, somehow it was already early evening and Adam was on the doorstep.
    She let him in and ushered the girls into the living room, and made a start on the sad little routine she’d been thinking about for weeks: ‘Your dad and I have something to tell you . . .’
    There: she’d finally said it. She saw straight away that they knew exactly what was coming. They looked scared, and Adam did too – he’d gone thin and hollow-looking, the way he always did when he was anxious, and his hands were trembling slightly.
    She made it through the rest of her speech by staring at the pattern on the Turkish rug.
    ‘Daddy’s not going to live with us any more. He’s going to see you most weekends, though, and we still both love you very much. We’re just not such good friends with each other as we used to be.’
    Adam made a slightly strangled, choking noise, and then managed to say, ‘And you can call me. Anytime you like. I’ll call you straight back, so it won’t be on Mummy’s phone bill.’
    Lucy mustered the courage to look up and saw that Clemmie was furious.
    ‘This is your fault!’ she shouted at Lucy through a storm of tears. ‘For being so mean. And saying no all the time!’
    When Lucy tried to approach her she flinched awayand removed herself to a spot in the middle of the rug, where she continued to sob remorselessly.
    Adam said, in a low voice, ‘I’m not sure this has helped anything. I’m meant to be taking them out for a meal now. How’s that going to work?’
    But Lottie went over to Clemmie and settled next to her, and Clemmie relented and allowed Lottie to hold her.
    Seeing them together, the older child comforting the younger, Lucy was reminded of herself, at Lottie’s age, stepping over Ellen’s supine body as she crossed the landing to get Hannah out of her cot and change her. How Hannah had been screaming, soaking wet, red in the face with fury . . . and then, as soon as Lucy had taken charge of her, her crying had stilled, and she had clung to her as if she never wanted to let go.
    That night she couldn’t sleep, and finally dozed off near dawn. She got back from the school drop-off the next morning to find that Hannah had called and left a message.
    ‘Lucy, it’s me . . . You have to know. Mum’s had a stroke – I found her this morning. She’s still alive, but we don’t know how bad it is. I’m at Penge Hospital with her now. Please come as soon as you can.’
    She’s still alive
. Did that mean she could die?
    Lucy’s legs went weak and she found herself sitting at the kitchen table. Resting on the surface in front of her were both her hands, still clutching the phone: square, capable, practical hands, unmanicured, made for doing. Hands she’d inherited from her mother.
    She had spent most of her adult life trying both to impress Ellen and to be different from her in every possible way. If she lost her, how on earth would she know who to be?
    Her engagement ring caught the light and the diamond glinted.
    The symbol of for ever. But all you could really lay claim to was now . . .
    And then, somehow, she was moving again, returning the phone to its cradle on the dresser, gathering up handbag and keys, locking up, going out to start the car.
    She had to get to Ellen as fast as she could. She mustn’t be too late.
    The hospital was a