“You’re bloody mad.”
Rupert closed his eyes. Jodi could almost see the cogs turning in his brain in the long moments it took him to open them again. And even then, he said nothing. Just stared at Jodi like he wasn’t quite real.
“Rupe.” Jodi cupped Rupert’s face in his palm and rubbed his cheek with his thumb. “I want this. I wantyou. Why is it so hard for you to believe that?”
“Because I don’t get it. I’m a loser, mate. I’ve got nothing to offer you.”
“Bullshit. I’ve got your heart, right?”
Rupert blinked. “It’s yours. I fucking love you. So much.”
“I loveyou.” Jodi kissed Rupert once, hard, and lay back. “We love each other, so we won’t ever need anything else. Fuck the money, babe. Just let yourself be.”
Six
December 26, 2014
“Daddy?”
Rupert glanced up from the train track he was building on the living room floor: Indie’s main present that he’d left under the tree for her on the first Christmas morning he’d spent alone in years. “What’s up, love?”
Indie bit her lip, a habit she’d developed over the last few months when she wanted to ask Rupert something she wasn’t sure he’d like. “Did Jodi buy my trains too?”
“Erm, kind of,” Rupert said. “He helped me choose them.”
The white lie burned his soul. He’d sworn to himself not long after Indie was born that he’d always tell her the truth, no matter how complex the situation, but it was a vow he’d found impossible to keep since the accident. How the fuck could he explain to an eight-year-old why the man she’d considered a pseudo-stepfather had disappeared overnight? His explanation of a serious accident only went so far. He shuddered to think what Indie made of the fact that she hadn’t been allowed to visit Jodi even once.
And Indie was no fool. She held a sparkly purple train up to the light. “Jodi doesn’t like glitter. He says it sticks to his bum, remember?”
Rupert sighed. He missed Jodi’s endearing lack of filter, despite his ongoing worry that Indie would go back to her mother and repeat things that would make Jen’s ears bleed. “I remember, kiddo.”
“Can we take a photo of my trains and put in your photo album?”
“What?”
“The photo album, Daddy. The one me and Aunt Sophie made for you.”
Rupert’s gaze zeroed in on a clean spot in the dust covering the coffee table, trying not to picture the flowery photo album he’d shoved on a high shelf in Jodi’s office the day before, unable to deal with it lying around the living room any longer. If he closed his eyes, he knew he’d see every page, composed with love by Indie and Sophie, documenting every family-friendly milestone of the life he and Jodi shared.
Had shared. It’s gone now, remember?Rupert blinked hard. “I don’t know where the camera is right now, sweetie. Maybe next time?”
“Okay.” Indie went back to her train inventory, lining them up in colour order, the way Jodi kept his T-shirts, and Rupert’s heart broke just a little bit more.
That evening, after a bittersweet day of presents, frosty games in the park, and SpongeBob’s Christmas special, Rupert and Indie caught a bus across the city to deliver Indie home to her mother. Indie was quiet on the journey, tired out after talking Rupert’s ear off for most of the day. Her incessant questions, which ranged from scarily astute to plain bizarre—Do clams bark like dogs, Daddy?—usually melted him into a biased father’s puddle of goo, but as the bus rumbled along London’s brightly lit streets, he was glad of the break. He’d been dreading Christmas for months, but now that it was over, the looming New Year frightened him more, absorbing his thoughts as Indie dozed in his arms. Jodi’s primary doctor had informed him on Christmas Eve that Jodi would be ready for discharge by January sixth, which left Rupert ten days to figure out what the hell they were going to do.
Or, rather, what the hellhewas going to do. Jodi’s doctors and social workers had agreed to release him into Rupert’s care with ongoing outpatient support, and Sophie had volunteered to look after him when Rupert had to work, coordinating her days at the nursery with his shifts, but even with Briggs putting him on day shifts with only two overnights a month, life was going to be tough. And then there was the money. Jodi had earned a small fortune as a web designer, but he’d been self-employed and the savings they’d had were about to run out. Any compensation Jodi was due from the accident would take years to come through, and the paltry carers allowance the state had offered Rupert barely covered the gas bill.
And that was just the half of it. What the fuck was he going to do about Indie? With Jodi still rendered mute and unresponsive by his injuries, there was no way Rupert could bring her to the Tottenham flat anymore. He couldn’t bear it, and he knew the Jodi he remembered would never allow her to see him that way.
Rupert stepped off the bus in Wembley with a heavy heart. Saying goodbye to Indie was always hard, but with her off to her grandma’s place in Wales for the New Year, it would be more than a week before he saw her again, and by then he had no idea where he’d be taking her.
The knowledge that he’d only grown used to seeing Indie so much because of the home Jodi had given them both cut deep, but he’d run out of time to worry about it. Jen opened her front door with her usual stony scowl and held out her hand for Indie’s bag.
“Has she had dinner?”
“Hello to you too,” Rupert said mildly. “Yeah, we had pizza.”
“Pizza on Boxing Day? Nice. Indie, go upstairs and brush your teeth.” With Indie inside, Jen started to close the door.
