“You have to eat something.”
“No.” The belligerence in his tone was unmistakable.
“Billy,” she said warningly.
He frowned at her.
“Get up to the table right now. I don’t have time for this.”
He dragged himself off the couch, moving to sit at the table, crossing his arms in front of him and frowning at her.
“Take that look off your face.” She could hear the rising irritability in her own voice but felt powerless to stop it. Billy’s scowl deepened. “If you don’t tell me what you want for breakfast, you’re having porridge.”
As he sat there silently, frowning down at the table, she made porridge, gritting her teeth when she placed it in front of him and he pushed it away. “William,” she said warningly, her heart squeezing in agony as his name rolled off her tongue.
“I’m not William! You made William go away!”
She turned away, feeling a hot rage fill her at the injustice of it. Knowing he was a darling three-year-old missing someone he loved had her wrestling with herself, trying to find the words to soothe him. She heard footsteps outside, light and female, and didn’t know whether to laugh or scream when Leah opened the door and stepped inside. She took in the situation at a glance and moved to the table, grabbing the bowl of porridge. “Why don’t we eat breakfast outside, hey?”
To Juniper’s immense relief, Billy slid off the dining chair and allowed Leah to leadhim outside.
Day Two
Juniper woke with Billy wrapped around her, his hand resting on her cheek. She lay perfectly still, quietly breathing him in, that sticky toddler smell with a hint of the baby he’d been underlying it. He wriggled against her, lifting his head wearily. “I’m hungry.”
“Are you, baby?” She brushed a hand over his curls. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Porridge.”
She carried him out to the little dining table, where he sat quietly while she made his porridge. She put the bowl down, feeling a hot lump in her throat when she saw the silent tears rolling down his cheeks. She sat down, pulling him into her lap and squeezing him tight. She didn’t look up as she heard footsteps and heard Nora say, “Here now, what’s this?” as she came through the door. She ran her hand over Juniper’s shoulder as she moved into the kitchen to make coffee.
Day Three
Juniper sighed with frustration and took her foot off the pedal of the pottery wheel. Unable to concentrate, she just couldn’t get the balance for the bowl she was trying to throw. She gave up, moving to the sink to wash her hands. She reached for her phone, bringing up William’s number, staring at it for the longest time before slipping the phone back into the pocket of her dress. She turned as she heard the back door of the workroom open and Mikayla step through, a bottle of wine in her hand. “Come on, love. Let’s get pissed.”
Day Six
Juniper woke alone, the pale fingers of a cold sunrise creeping across the floor and up onto her bed. It was the first night Billy had slept the whole night through in his own bed since William had left. She went to check on him. Sound asleep. She couldn’t go back to bed, so she grabbed her dressing gown and making a coffee, went out to sit on the deck, rubbing her chest as the ever-present band tightened around her heart. She almost smiled as Rafe came through the gate and moved across the yard to sit down next to her.
“What are you doing here this early?”
“Just got off shift. Thought I’d check on you.”
He put his arm around her, and she let go, crying into his shoulder.
Day Ten
Friday. The end of an impossibly long week. Juniper lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to force herself to get up. Then she frowned. Billy was up. She could hear Bluey playing on the television. She sighed, sliding out of bed and into her robe. She stopped dead at the loungeroom door. John, sitting on the couch with Billy curled up next to him, turned his head. “Coffee’s on,” he said, gesturing to the kitchen.
Day Eleven
“What is this, ‘The Everybody Make Sure Juniper Doesn’t Fall to Pieces Brigade’?” She didn’t even try to hide the irritation in her voice as she cleared the breakfast dishesoff the table.
“Something like that,” Callum replied calmly from the loungeroom, helping Billy put his sandals on.
She was fed up. Sick of being checked up on, sick of being sympathized with. Sick of pretending she was getting better. She was just fucking sick of everything. She told him so.
“Stop pretending then. You aren’t fooling anyone anyway,” he said bluntly.
