Page 28 of Good Bad Girl

And now he is here, wanting an update about her, not knowing that she is hiding in the bathroom.

“Any news about my mother? Is she dead yet?”

Edith

Edith recognizes the voice of her son in the attic.

“Any news about my mother? Is she dead yet?”

She covers her mouth with her hand to stifle the sounds that want to come out of it, and holds on to Dickens like a child clinging to a favorite toy. Her own son wishes she was dead. She could stop hiding in the bathroom and confront him, but she is too scared. Edith—who has spent a lifetime never being scared of anything or anyone—is afraid of everything and everyone after what happened yesterday. How could she not be?

It has been several years since Edith and her son were on speaking terms. Whenever they spoke they disagreed, so concluded it was best not to. The decision was mutual. Edith’s reasons for not speaking to her son are quite different from her reasons for not speaking to her daughter. He was always a selfish blaggard—even as a child—but he grew up to become someone she doesn’t know or want to. Someone she doesn’t even recognize as her son. It’s got nothing to do with him being gay—though she’s sure that’s what he thinks. Edith doesn’tlike her son because he is a thoroughly unpleasant human being and a nasty piece of work. She’s ashamed of herself for raising such a despicable person. When people ask her if she has children, she reluctantly tells them she has a daughter. She doesn’t mention Jude, hasn’t for a long time. Edith often wishes she had never had children at all.

She hears the attic door close. It is quiet again, but she waits a few minutes before coming out.

“I can explain,” Ladybug says, as soon as Edith opens the bathroom door. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Edith doesn’t move from the spot. She sees that her suitcase has been opened and the girl has been rummaging in her things. “How do you know my son?” Edith asks. The girl stares down at the floor, can’t even look her in the eye. “The son I haven’t spoken to for years. The son I’ve never told you about.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear that. He helped me to get a job at the care home and since then I’ve been—”

“You’ve been what? Spying on me? Reporting back tohim? Lying to me about everything? I thought we were friends, Ladybug. I thought I could trust you, but clearly I can’t trust anyone.”

“Youcantrust me.”

Edith shakes her head. “I want to go home.Myhome. You said that’s where you were taking me when we left the care home.”

“You lied to me too,” the girl says.

“About what?”

“Why did you never tell me that you had a son?”

“Because I don’t. That man is a stranger to me,” Edith replies. “And withholding the truth is not the same as lying. For years he only ever got in touch when he wanted something—money, usually—and I got tired of it. I don’t talk about him because, well, I suppose not being loved by one child might just be bad luck. Both of my children growing up to hate their mother suggests that the problem might be me. I want you to take me home. Now. Like you promised. Then I don’t want to see you again. Did he really ask you to—”

“We need to keep our voices down. The gallery is downstairs.”

“So that’s where I am, above Kennedy’s Gallery! Iknewthis street looked familiar. Maybe I should call the police, tell them I’ve been kidnapped against my will.”

“We both know that you haven’t, but go ahead and call the police if you want to,” the girl replies with a modicum of defiance Edith was not expecting. She doesn’t sound like her Ladybug anymore.

“All this time, I thought you actually cared about me,” Edith says, feeling like an old fool.

“I do care,” the girl insists, staring at the open suitcase on the attic floor. “Did you take something out of here last night?”

“It’s my suitcase, I can do what I like with it. Are you in cahoots with my son?”

“Of course not. I can explain everything—”

“Go on then. Has the cat got your tongue?”

The girl pulls a petulant face that is not becoming. “It’s complicated and I don’t think we have time for this now, but I hear you.”

“Of course you can hear me. You have ears.”

“When we first met and I found out that your dog had been taken away from you, I used my savings to get Dickens back. I’ve looked after him and done my best to help you ever since. Why would I do that if I didn’t care? I would never hurt you or Dickens, never. You must know that. Do you believe me?”

Edith stares at the girl with a look of pure disappointment. “I believe you believe you.”

---