Page 67 of Darling Girls

‘Girls,’ Miss Fairchild called from the living room. ‘Can you come in here, please?’

In many ways, it was your classic déjà vu. In other ways, not so much. Because there were a few distinct differences from the other times. For one, instead of sitting in the armchair, Miss Fairchild sat cross-legged on the floor. For another, where the other babies had been a year old at most, this child was a fully-fledged toddler with masses of blonde hair and a mouth full of tiny white teeth.

‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’ Miss Fairchild beamed at them, showing no evidence of their unpleasant interaction the evening before. ‘This isAmy.’

They all stared at the child. Amy blinked back at them, looking as shocked and confused as they were. She held a worn-looking Barbie doll in one hand and with the other clutched a stuffed bear to her chest.

‘Amy is nearly two,’ Miss Fairchild said, her smile growing. ‘And here’s the best bit. Amy isn’t a respite baby. I’m adopting her!’

She said it with such delight it was hard to believe she was the same woman who’d been terrorising them for months. Who just last night had screamed obscenities at them while trying to force her way into their bedroom.

Alicia appeared as disturbed as Norah felt. ‘But . . . where are her parents?’

‘Herbirthparents didn’t want her.’ Miss Fairchild made an expression of disgust. It was more familiar than the grotesque smile, at least. ‘Some people only want perfect children.’

Norah looked at Amy again, clasping her teddy. She didn’t have crossed eyes, or insect bites or obvious special needs. As far as babies went, she looked pretty perfect.

‘Amy was born with a slight defect,’ Miss Fairchild said, answering their unspoken question. ‘It’s ridiculous really; it’s not anything anyone would notice.’

She removed one of Amy’s socks and the girls leaned forward. The girl’s little foot was pink and plump: perfect apart from the tiny extra pinkie toe nestled against the others.

‘Her parents didn’t want her because she has an extratoe?’ Norah said.

‘Some people are so busy chasing perfection they don’t appreciate the wonders right in front of them,’ Miss Fairchild replied. ‘Can you imagine? Having a child this beautiful and not appreciating her?’ She shook her head and tutted. ‘Some people don’t deserve children, they really don’t.’

Miss Fairchild didn’t let Amy out of her sight. During the day, she carried her around in a wrap on her chest, and if she had any errands to run, she sent the girls out so she didn’t have to leave Amy for a single second. At night, Amy slept in her room, and Miss Fairchild got up to settle her if she woke.

‘I am the only one who’s allowed to care for her,’ she said, if she ever caught them interacting with Amy. ‘It’s important for bonding. So she knows I’m her mother.’

There was rarely a moment when Miss Fairchild wasn’t singing or bouncing Amy. Norah assumed that eventually she would tire of round-the-clock caring the way she had with the other babies, but weeks went by and Miss Fairchild remained devoted. It was wonderful as far as Norah and Alicia were concerned, because it meant she left them alone. It was as close to Norah’s fantasy of being Kevin fromHome Aloneas she could have realistically hoped for. But Jessica didn’t seem to share Norah and Alicia’s enthusiasm for the new Miss Fairchild.

‘I’m happy she’s taking such good care of Amy,’ she would say when her sisters asked if she was all right. ‘It makes life easier for us!’

But her smile didn’t reach her eyes. It reminded Norah that, unlike she and Alicia, who felt nothing but hatred for Miss Fairchild, Jessica’s feelings for their foster mother were more complicated.

A few times, Norah caught Jessica staring as Miss Fairchild played with Amy. The look on Jessica’s face worried her. There was something possessive about it. If Jessica noticed Norah watching her, she rolled her eyes and made a joke of it, which worried Norah more. Jessica had never been much of a joker.

‘Happy Birthday, Amy!’ Miss Fairchild cried, cracking a party-popper and cheering like a deranged lunatic.

Norah stood by the pool, wearing a party hat, eating a cold sausage roll and feeling significantly better about the fact that she’d never had a party of her own. Alicia, by the look of her, was equally appalled.

The party, it had to be said, was a fizzer. Amy appeared to agree. They’d played party games that Amy was too young for, opened gifts that she didn’t seem interested in. The only part that had been somewhat enjoyable was the piñata – enjoyable for Norah, because she’d been allowed to smash it with the broom until it broke into a million pieces.

Now they stood around wondering what to do next.

A few days earlier, when they’d come downstairs for breakfast, Miss Fairchild had been bent over the sewing machine surrounded by pink fabric.

‘What’s going on?’ Jessica asked.

‘It’s Amy’s birthday on Friday,’ Miss Fairchild said cheerily. ‘She’ll be two. We’re having a party.’

Norah, who was loath to show enthusiasm for anything Miss Fairchild did, couldn’t deny she’d felt a pulse of excitement. Aparty. Apart from the silent dance party Alicia had thrown her, it would be the first party she’d ever attended. Or at least the first one sherememberedattending.

‘Will there be cake?’ she asked.

‘Of course!’ Miss Fairchild beamed. ‘Only the best for my darling girl.’

Despite Miss Fairchild’s efforts, though, Amy looked miserable. She often did, now that Norah thought about it. She wondered suddenly if the point of this party had been to lift the child’s spirits.