Page 64 of The World Outside My Window

‘Hello.’ Faye offers what she hopes is a friendly smile. The taller, fair-haired woman steps forward and holds out her hand. ‘Hello, I’m Debbie, and this is my friend Laura. She lives over there.’ She gestures behind her. ‘We wondered whether we could ask you some questions.’

Faye gives a curt nod and steps back to let them in. She knows she comes across as unfriendly but the truth is that women like this – confident, outspoken, brave – make her feel her shortcomings even more acutely, and she retreats into herself until she can hardly remember who she is any more. She knows they’ll see her as a quiet, mousey, downtrodden woman and in many ways they’ll be right. She just wishes she knew how to show them there’s more to Faye Phillips than meets the eye.

She waits impatiently while they remove their shoes and coats, then shows them into the living room where her mother sits, regally, in her wheelchair, smiling at them serenely.

‘Mum, this is Debbie, and Laura.’ She waves her hand at her mother. ‘This is Marjorie.’

Marjorie’s face breaks into a huge smile and she sticks out her hand. ‘Oh, ladies, it’s lovely to see you, it really is. Do come in and sit down. I’ve been waiting for you for ages.’

Faye sees the look of confusion on their faces as they perch on the sofa and steps forward to explain. ‘Carol came round the other day and told Mum you’d been over to see her, so Mum thought you might come here too.’

They both nod as realisation dawns. Faye watches them take in the scruffy living room. The shelves cluttered with ornaments, the well-worn rug on the floor, the tie-dye throw hanging from the wall, sagging in the middle where the pin fell out months ago. Studying their living room through fresh eyes, with its hippy rugs and throws, Buddhas lined up along the shelf and books about tarot reading, she wonders what they must make of it. Of them. She flushes with shame.

‘Can you make these ladies a cup of tea now, Faye?’

‘Yes, Mum.’ She looks at them both and smiles without it reaching her eyes. ‘Tea or coffee?’

‘Tea would be lovely, please,’ says curly hair – she was Laura, wasn’t she?

‘Tea for me too, please. Thank you.’ Debbie’s smile is warm.

She gives a small nod and turns on her heel.

As she bustles about the kitchen preparing the tea she’s glad to be away from the prying eyes of these strangers. She hates herself for feeling so inferior in their presence, but it’s the way she’s been since she was a little girl. There’s no point pretending she’s ever going to change now.

Tea made, she walks slowly back through to the living room, balancing everything precariously on a cheap plastic tray. When she enters the room again her mother is leaning forward in her chair talking animatedly.

‘And so you think he might have done a runner, then, do you?’

‘Mum!’

Marjorie’s head whips round. ‘What? It’s what she’s just been saying, isn’t it, Laura?’

Laura nods her head miserably and despite herself Faye can’t help feeling a bit sorry for the woman, being verbally assaulted by her mother like that. She knows she’s a bit much if you’ve never met her before. ‘It is beginning to look more and more like that, yes.’

Marjorie is clearly in her element. ‘Listen to this, Faye,’ she says. ‘Jim’s gone missing and Laura here is trying to find out what’s happened to him, and thinks we might have some clues to help her find him. What do you think to that, then?’ She stops and plucks another Bourbon from the tray that Faye has placed on the coffee table and takes a bite, crumbs attaching themselves to the light sprinkling of hair on her chin like Klingons. She chews and takes a breath. ‘I was saying, love, that we know Jim quite well, don’t we?’

Faye studies her mother’s face. She doesn’t really know Jim at all, to be honest, only that he popped round a couple of times to see Marjorie. Faye has hardly spoken more than a few words to him. But her mother loves a bit of drama, and adores being the centre of attention, so of course she’s playing it up as much as she possibly can. Faye has to stop herself rolling her eyes.

‘You do, Mum. I’m not sure I can be much help.’

Marjorie gives her daughter a look that suggests she will deal with her later, then turns back to the two women sitting on the sofa opposite.

‘Well, anyway.’ She swipes yet another biscuit, a custard cream this time. ‘Do help yourselves, won’t you? You look as though you need a bit of feeding up.’ She wipes her mouth and leans forward so far it seems as though she’s about to tip right forward and land face-first on the swirly carpet. Faye isn’t sure she’d feel that inclined to help her up. ‘Listen. I have an idea.’

Laura shifts to hear better. The poor woman is clearly desperate for any information they can give her, and Faye feels even more sorry for her. The trouble is, Faye also knows exactly what her mother is about to suggest, and she isn’t entirely convinced it’s what Laura has in mind.

‘How would you feel about me doing a tarot reading for you?’

Faye watches as Laura’s face passes from interest to surprise to confusion to – what is that now? Pleasure? She’shappyabout her mother’s suggestion? Surely not.

‘Oh.’ Laura glances at Debbie next to her, who shrugs. ‘I don’t suppose it can do any harm, can it?’

‘Exactly!’ Marjorie claps her hands in glee. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to find outsomething.’ She turns to Faye. ‘Pass me my cards, will you, love?’

Faye plucks the silk-wrapped pack from the shelf and hands it reluctantly to her mother.

‘Now, let’s clear this table.’ Marjorie pushes the tray to one side and sweeps the crumbs off with the back of her hand onto the carpet.I guess I’ll be hoovering that up later,then,Faye thinks uncharitably. Marjorie shakes the cards from the pack and hands them to Laura.

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