Behind me, the boys are having an energetic lightsaber duel while rain lashes at the window in a moody and dramatic backdrop. The morning light is gray and dull. Exactly how I feel. It is like the weather is acting out my mood.
“Where’s Ned?” huffs Lottie as she battles with her sock.
“He’s gone,” I say with a grimace.
The room falls deathly silent and still. Suddenly, the only sound and motion is the rain against the windowpane. I whirl around to find Noah and Oscar staring at me. Noah’s eyes are huge.
“Like Mommy?” he whispers.
Oh fuck! Why am I such an idiot? I could have phrased that a whole lot better. Now I’ve gone and traumatized them.
I reach out and grab my boys, then I turn around to pull Lottie close, too. I envelop them all in the best bear hug I can manage.
“No! No, not at all like Mommy. Just on holiday.” I bite back the words, ‘he’ll be back soon,’ because as much as I want to comfort them, I don’t want to tell them things that I’m not sure are true.
“Okay!” says Noah cheerfully, then he starts to squirm.
I release them. The boys resume their fight and Lottie goes back to battling her socks. Crisis averted. For the children, at least.
As for me, I’m still suffering. I’m shrouded in pain and confusion. It’s throwing me back to the very darkest of days after Jennifer’s death. I hate this. Surely I’ve had all the heartache one person should have to bear in one lifetime? I’m not sure if I can cope with much more.
And what about the children? Will they be able to cope? Ned disappearing from their lives would be hard on them. They adore him, and they have already lost so much in their short lives. Should I forgive Ned for their sake? Allow him to continue to be in their lives? He is their grandfather, after all. And it’s not exactly as if they have an abundance of family.
I suck in a big, shaky breath. Fucking hell. This is such a confusing, tangled mess. The kids can’t know Ned is their grandfather. I’m keeping all that vampire stuff away from them. It’s too much and they don’t need to know. Ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes. The children deserve as normal a life as possible. I want to give them that much.
But he is still their grandfather, whether the children are aware of it or not. So do I have the right to keep him from seeing them, no matter how much he has hurt me?Because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, he would never hurt the kids. In fact, he would defend and protect them ferociously. And what kind of dad wouldn’t want a vampire looking out for their kids?
I love the idea of my children having a dark angel looking over them. The world is a scary and dangerous place and my kids won’t stay under my roof forever. They’re going to need all the protection they can get.
Does that mean I should shove all this pain aside? Allow Ned back into our lives, but keep him out of my heart?
Or am I making excuses to keep him close? Because, despite everything, I still think Ned is a wonderful man. I’m just struggling to understand how and why he would keep such a devastating secret from me. Is it because he knew I’d react like this? Or is it something much more sinister?
So many questions. So few answers. In the end, all that really matters is, can I trust him? First the vampire stuff. Now this. It is a lot. It wouldn’t be surprising if my trust was irrevocably broken.
The sound of the doorbell is startling. For one stupid moment, my heart races because I think it might be Ned. Even though I know damn well it’s Tina.
I let her in and she hurries upstairs to supervise the kids, who sound like they have progressed their duel into a full intergalactic battle.
I leave her to it and drift despondently to my office. There are a hundred and one things I need to do, but I don’t have a single ounce of motivation. Right now, I don’t particularly care if my business crashes and burns.
My ass has barely touched my chair when the doorbell chimes again. My stupid heart gets all fluttery for thesecond time. Who the hell is that? I’m not expecting anyone, and I don’t remember ordering anything. I’ve left my phone somewhere, so I can’t check the camera.
I open the door and find a young man with blond hair and blue eyes. I’m strangely, stupidly, both relieved and devastated that it is not Ned. The man holds up a very impressive looking ID badge.
“Greetings, Mr. Dowd. My name is Baltazar and I’m from the Paranormal Council, here for your interview.”
My mind is whirling. I don’t remember anything about an interview, but Ned did say there was an admin side to a human discovering the paranormal world is real. It seems vastly unfair that not even the undead get to escape bureaucracy.
I step aside and welcome the official into my home. I lead him to my office and offer him a drink, which he declines. Then his name finally registers in my floundering mind.
Baltazar. The man who Ned first told me was a dodgy cult leader who was after him. Then Ned changed his story and said Baltazar was the vampire responsible for the crazy guy in the alley, the one who forced Ned to reveal what he is.
My stomach clenches. More lies. Baltazar is an official, similar to a policeman. As far as I can tell. If Ned was avoiding him, that can’t be good. Is Ned a criminal as well as a vampire?
“This visit is mostly a formality,” says Baltazar in a friendly and pleasant voice.
I nod.
