Chapter 3

Prudence told me she could babysit on Friday, seeming like she'd almost forgotten about it. "Oh, thanks," I said casually, as if she'd just returned a paintbrush. I told myself her babysitting was no big deal. She'd earn some money for her family and I'd get time with my wife. But deep down I knew I was lying to myself. I felt strangely drawn to Prudence. Despite myself, I did genuinely want to see a bit more of her. It was just a bit of babysitting. She probably wouldn't want to come back again anyway once she saw the state my home was in, what with the kids and everything. The whole thing might scare her off from ever coming back. I hoped it wouldn't though. If anything it would drive home just how bad my home life was, and jolt me into doing something drastic. Like leaving with bags packed in the middle of the night, a note left on the fridge for Marianne to weep over the next morning, Lily strapped to her side. No. I couldn't do that to them. But I was once inches from ringing my solicitor. The only thing that had stopped me was the thought of Harry and Lily being taken away from me, Marianne getting full custody. Despite how much I often wanted to walk out, I couldn't do it to the kids. I didn't want to be the bad man Harry cried about in his nightmares, clinging onto my arm with tears dribbling from his eyes.

I told Prudence my address, 34 Laurel Grove, and that it was on the number 37 bus route. I wrote it down on the back of her school jotter.

"Fine, no problem," said Prue.

Friday rolled around. I went through it in autopilot again, barely noticing when I pulled up to my house at the end of the day. I was so preoccupied I almost forgot Prue was coming to babysit. The doorbell rang at seven thirty on the dot.

"Keith, get the door will you?" Marianne called down from the bathroom.

"OK!" I called back. Not as if my hands are tied, or anything, I thought as I picked Lily up mid-change, perched her on my hand and rushed for the door. It was a stupid thought; I knew Prue would need me to answer as she'd never been round before. I opened the door to see her standing in front of me with long, curly dark hair billowing over her shoulders. She smiled at me, then looked at Lily.

"Hi, Prue. Sorry, we're in the middle of a nappy change, aren't we, Lily?"

Lily grizzled irritably. Prue held out her hand but Lily leaned away, butting her little head against my shoulder before starting to cry. "Take no notice, she's tired," I said. "Come in, come in." As was I. Tired of life, of this routine. I just wanted to escape, to run away from it all and start again. Maybe I could. Just take off on my own, no distractions, nothing to hold me down…

Prue stepped into the hall and followed me towards the living room. I realised what a mess it was, toys and crayons strewn all over the floor. I felt embarrassed. "Sorry! We'll get cleared up in a jiffy. I'll just shove a nappy on Lily. Marianne's upstairs giving Harry his bath. She'll be down in a minute. Would you like a coffee or a Coke or something? And I'd better show you how the television works." I rattled on; Lily still balanced on my hand. God, what must she think of me now, what with a half-naked child on my arm, bleating all this suburban daddy stuff? It was a wonder she hadn't bolted for the door already.

"It's OK," said Prue, cool as a cucumber. She didn't seem at all fazed at the mess she was standing in. "I'll clear up the living room if you want to go and do the baby."

I smiled at her gratefully, starting to relax. I headed upstairs with Lily, hoping Marianne had finished washing Harry so she could help Prue out downstairs. She shouldn't have to clean up our mess, that wasn't part of the deal. She wasn't our maid. Thankfully I didn't need to say anything because Marianne dumped Harry on me and then stomped downstairs without a word. Charming.

I placed Lily on the baby changer and then lifted Harry on to his bed. I decided to sort out Lily's nappy first, hoping Harry would wait. As if that was going to happen. No sooner had I sat him down did he start screaming, "Mum! You come back now! I need you now! I want a story NOW!"

I tried to shush him as Marianne called up the stairs, "Can't you see to him, Keith?"

Harry continued shrieking at me. Marianne shouted up at me again. "For God's sake, Keith, can't you read Harry his story?"

"I'm changing Lily's nappy at this exact moment in time," I called back.

"Can't you do both? Haven't you heard of multi-tasking?"

I ignored her then. Arguing was useless, and I didn't want to bicker in front of Prue. We'd set a bad enough impression already. I picked Lily up, settling down on Harry's bed with her on my lap. She was still nappyless. I cuddled Harry against my chest as I fiddled about with his story book. Prue entered the room as Harry started muttering, "Don't want you reading, Daddy, I want Mum."

"What lovely children," said Prue warmly, smiling at us.

"Who's that big girl? I don't like her," said Harry.

"That's Prudence. She's going to look after you and Lily tonight," I said. Harry insisted he didn't want to be looked after by her, he didn't like her, he wanted Mum. Marianne came running, half in, half out of a navy top. She'd teamed it with her white trousers. I'd thought the woollen dress she was wearing before was decent enough, even if it did look too tight on her.

"I'm here, Harry. It's OK, sweetie." She took a deep breath. "For God's sake, Keith! I'll sort the kids. You go and get changed."

"Changed?"

"You're not going to wear those awful jeans to La Terrazza?"

"OK, OK."

Marianne picked Lily up. "There now, come to Mummy. Who needs a nappy to cover her little pink bot?" she cooed. Lily kicked her legs and then weed all down Marianne's white trousers. She squealed and said it was all my fault. She stamped off to get changed, a wet, squirmy Lily under one arm. Prue looked at me. I looked at her. We were both trying not to burst out laughing. I raised my eyebrows at her and then went off to get changed. When we were finally ready to go, Marianne popped in to see Prue, who was sat on Harry's bed with Lily on her lap.

"You're sure you're going to be all right, Prudence?" said Marianne. "You seem very young."

"I'm fifteen," said Prue.

"Oh dear, is that all?" said Marianne doubtfully, pulling down her skirt. She was back in her woollen dress. "You have done lots of babysitting before, haven't you?"

"I've been babysitting my little sister for years," said Prue. "Don't worry, we'll be fine."

We left and I drove us to the restaurant. I didn't really want to go out, much preferring to get back to my sketchpad and continue working on my drawings. I'd started a new one recently, just a few days ago, actually. I'd drawn a slim girl with thick curly hair and big dark eyes. She was staring into space, in her own little world. I'd lightly suggested the check pattern on her dress with my charcoal. It was Prudence. I could see her clearly in my mind as I was drawing her, as if she was standing in front of me. I kept thinking of that drawing intermittently throughout our meal. It was all I could do to stop myself going mad, what with Marianne chattering away. I couldn't get a word in edgeways. I gave up after a while, simply nodding along whenever she told another story about one of her friend's troubles. What about our troubles? I wanted to yell at her. What about our relationship? Despite my frustration I was starting to care less and less about our marriage every passing day.

When we arrived home it was just after eleven. Marianne practically jumped on Prue the minute we got through the door. "How were the kids? Did they wake? Did you give Lily her bottle? Did Harry want you to read to him?" she said in a rush.

"They've been fine," said Prue. "Lily cried around ten and I warmed her bottle, but she was asleep again before I could feed her. There hasn't been a peep out of Harry."

"Great, great! I'd better go and wake him for a wee then, otherwise we'll have a wet bed. Here's your money, Prue. Thanks so much. I hope you can maybe babysit again some time?"

Prue hesitated. For a second I thought she'd say no.

"I'd love to." she said. She didn't meet my eyes as she put on her jacket and went towards the door. Did she think I expected her to get the bus home? I'd definitely told her I'd give her a lift.

"Hey, where are you going, Prue?" I called after her.

"Home."

"Well, hang on, I'm giving you a lift."

"No, no, it's OK. I'll get the bus. It's not far, I'll be fine, honestly. Bye!" she said.

"I'm taking you home in the car. Stop arguing."

She stopped. Her mother would kill me if I left her high and dry and something dreadful happened to her. Besides, I'd promised her I'd drive her home.

We walked down my garden path together quietly. I opened the car door for her. "Here we are," I said. "Oh God, excuse the kids' rubbish. We don't even notice it anymore."

I got in the driver's seat and Prue sat next to me at the front. "Seat belt," I said to her. She stared at me, looked at her lap and dithered anxiously. I leaned over to pull on the strap and fixed it for her. "There now, safely strapped in," I said, feeling like I was in daddy-mode again. I started up the car. "What did you do with yourself this evening, then?"

"Oh, I read a bit, did a little homework. Whatever," said Prue.

"I hope it wasn't too lonely for you. You can always bring a friend with you another time, or maybe your sister?" I said lightly.

"No! No, I'm fine by myself, I don't mind a bit," she said quickly. I looked over at her, nodding. "I know. I liked my own company as a kid too. I used to go fishing most weekends. It wasn't to catch the fish; I used to feel sick and sorry if I ever caught anything. I just wanted to be by myself for a bit."

"Do you still go fishing now?"

"Chance would be a fine thing! At the weekends we do the Sainsbury's run, and then I look after the kids while Marianne sees her girlfriends, and then on Sunday we drive all the way to Basingstoke to see her parents for a Sunday roast, and often Marianne's sister's there with her husband and kids, so we're all very busy playing Happy Families." I made sure my voice was light and even, carefully hiding my real feelings on our rigid weekend routine. I didn't want to bore or burden her. It definitely bored me, even as I listened to myself talking about it. But I was glad for the conversation. Prue seemed genuinely interested in what I said, hanging on my every word. I wondered why she was so fascinated, though she was probably like this with everyone she interacted with. A straight-up kind person. She was a good listener, though the kids at school didn't seem to appreciate it. She was normally on her own whenever I saw her. Either that or being picked on by her peers. I didn't understand why. Prue seemed such a lovely kid. She was just misunderstood because she was different, like I was when I was her age. Maybe it was an artist thing. We just preferred our own company so we could be introspective and produce spontaneous outbursts of artistic greatness to express our inner longings. Or maybe that was just me.

Prue chatted to me about fishing, asking about lines and hooks and bait. Then we turned into her street and she directed me to her dad's shop.

"Oh, it's this shop! I've been here. I've had a good browse in the art section, but someone gave me a sarcastic ticking off for using the shop like a library." I paused. "Would that have been your dad?" I asked, feeling stupid for being so insensitive.

"That would definitely have been my dad," said Prue. "No wonder we have hardly any customers. He's always so rude to them."

"How is your dad?"

"Well, he can't talk much still, and he can't really walk either," she sniffed.

Oh no. I hoped I hadn't made her cry, that was the last thing I wanted. "Oh Prue, I'm so sorry," I said. I felt an urge to comfort her in some way. A hug would be inappropriate, so I reached over and covered her hand with mine. I gave it a gentle squeeze, and then put my hand back on the steering wheel. I drummed my fingers on it. We sat still, neither of us saying anything, staring straight ahead. Part of me wanted to talk to her a little while longer, but I knew it was time for her to go.

"Well," I finally said. I swallowed. "Perhaps you'd better go in now."

"Yes. Thank you for taking me home, Mr Raxberry."

That made me look at her. "Hey, what's with this formal Mr Raxberry thing? Everyone at school calls me Rax – you know that."

"OK then. Rax." She giggled. "It sounds funny."

"Better than Keith."

"Why doesn't your wife call you Rax?"

"Oh. She's known me too long. We were childhood sweethearts."

"You knew each other when you were at school?"

"From when we were fourteen?"

"My age?"

"Yep."

"Goodness."

"I take it you haven't got a sweetheart?"

"No!"

"I'm glad to hear it. Off you go then. See you at school."

"Yes. Thank you. Goodbye… Rax." She giggled again, and then undid her seatbelt and jumped out the car. I waited until she let herself in the shop door, making sure she got in safely. She turned and waved and I waved back and then drove off. She lingered in my thoughts most of the way home. She was going through so much. I hoped we weren't burdening her, what with the kids and everything. Not to mention having to see Marianne and I playing out our relationship dynamics. Thankfully, she didn't seem fazed by any of it. It would be nice to have her babysit again, and I enjoyed our chat on the way home tonight. Come to think of it, I probably enjoyed my ten minute chat with Prue more than an entire evening's worth with my wife. But that was an entirely different story.

I pulled up outside the house and switched off the engine, letting out a long breath, reluctant to leave the car. Would Marianne notice if I didn't come home? Or would she be fast asleep, not even thinking about me? I didn't really care either way. I went inside and up the stairs, into our bedroom. That night I lay flat on my back, staring up at the dark ceiling. What am I going to do? I asked silently in the dark. Marianne lay facing away from me, sleeping silently, her chest slowly rising and falling. I sighed, and closed my eyes.