Dear Thing Read Online Free PDF Page A

only just got to the bathroom as the bleeding started.
    Claire sat, staring at the pink shower curtain, but not for too long. Not so long that the others would notice. Then she moved with brisk efficiency. She found Lacey’s store of sanitary towels under the sink and took two; she didn’t think Lacey would mind. She wore one on top of the other. Then she flushed the toilet twice, washed her hands and touched her temples with her wet fingers. Not more than that, or she’d ruin her make-up. She kept her gaze averted from the Moses basket and the mobile as she exited through the bedroom. She picked up her handbag from the floor in the hallway, where she’d left it, and then hesitated before going into the kitchen. Lacey’s mother was alone in there, opening another bottle of wine.
    ‘I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to go,’ said Claire. Her voice sounded too loud to her, too rehearsed. ‘I don’t want to disturb Lacey while she’s opening gifts; can you say goodbye for me afterwards?’
    Lacey’s mother looked at her with quick concern. ‘Are you all right, dear?’
    ‘Oh yes, fine. Ben’s just called me. He’s lost his car keys so he needs me to drive over and pick him up.’
    ‘Oh, what a nuisance. I’m sure Lacey will be sorry you’ve had to leave early. Do you want some of this food to take home with you?’
    ‘No, no thank you.’ From the living room, she could hear all of the women cooing over the latest baby item to be unwrapped. Tiny clothes, tiny toys. Everything soft and pure.
    ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You’re looking quite pale. Georgette tells me you’re expecting.’
    ‘Georgette must have got the wrong end of the stick, somehow.’ Claire forced a laugh. ‘No, I’m just sorry I have to leave the party. Thanks for giving Lacey my apologies.’
    She escaped to her car. The fresh air stung her eyes. Other than that, she didn’t feel anything.
    Claire drove straight to the M4. She turned off the radio and listened to the sound of the car. She didn’t seem able to think, but the site was programmed into her satnav and her body seemed to take over the driving by itself. It was good for that, at least. She got off at the correct junction and followed the B roads between hedges and around curves, obeying directions from the calm, impersonal electric voice.
    The Kahns’ site was over the county line in Oxfordshire. She turned down the unfinished lane, the car lurching over the ruts and bumps, wondering where the nearest chemist was. She was going to need more towels.
    The house was a skeleton of metal beams. Ben was in a Hi-Vis jacket and a hard hat, showing something on his iPad to Mr and Mrs Kahn and their eldest son, also in protective gear. They were smiling, looking pleased about the new home Ben had designed for them. In the next field over, she could see their other three children playing football.
    He spotted her car and, after apologizing to the Kahns, came over. He opened the door and his smile melted away.
    ‘What’s wrong?’
    ‘I think I’ll need you to drive home.’ Her voice caught.
    ‘Claire? What’s going on? Why didn’t you ring?’
    ‘I needed to see you.’
    Now that she’d stopped, she didn’t feel as if she could get out of the car. It was safer in here. She slid somehow from the driver’s seat to the passenger seat, over the gear lever and her handbag. She heard distant laughter in the field.
    Ben got in and put his cool hand on her forehead.
    ‘You’re white as a sheet.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. She closed her eyes and curled up in the seat like a child.
    She felt Ben drop off to sleep sometime around three o’clock in the morning. She lay there for a while, thinking, until the pain in her lower back wouldn’t let her be still, and then she slipped out from his arms, got up and took some painkillers. There was no point in being careful any more.
    Downstairs, she made herself a cup of strong tea with milk and sugar. She found her