I’d hoped to see James during these inbetweeny days before we go away. However, after all the drama yesterday he’s been busy taking care of Esther, being on hand if she’s wanted to talk. ‘Not that she has really,’ he says, when I call.
‘How’s she doing?’ I ask.
‘Hard to tell. She seemed glad to be getting out of Miles’s place yesterday, and we had a nice evening with a takeaway, just chatting about this and that. She didn’t really want to go over it anymore, and I guess that’s understandable.’
‘The main thing is, you’re there for her,’ I suggest. ‘And she knows that.’
‘It’s all I can do really.’ He pauses. ‘Kids, eh?’ I catch the wry smile in James’s voice and wonder why I’m feeling so unsettled. Of course he has to be there for his daughter after all the crap she’s gone through with Miles. If Charlie needed me for anything I can’t imagine not being there for him.
However, something seems to have shifted in me. I’dso looked forward to James coming out here for the pub night on Christmas Eve, and that hadn’t happened – also perfectly fine. But what about the other times he’d cancelled with barely any notice? Does he expect me tonevermind when our plans are thrown up in the air?Don’t I matter?I’ve found myself wondering from time to time. Meanwhile, contact between us has been sparse and brief and I’ve started to feel, well … needy is the only way I can describe it. And – perversely – I’ve found myself pushing him away in ordernotto feel needy, and more like my usual independent self.
As I lie in bed at night, rogue thoughts start to snag at my brain: Does he really want to come on our little off-grid adventure? Or would he rather stay at home with Esther, and doesn’t know how to break it to me? Perhaps the trip feels like anobligation. He doesn’t want to let me down, but nor does he want to abandon Esther when she needs him. He’s caught in the middle, I decide, irrationally – between Esther and me.
I call him one afternoon when I’m out on a walk, trying to shake off a growing sense of unease. ‘James,’ I start, ‘can I ask you something?’
‘Sure. What is it?’
‘Are you sure you’re okay about coming away? I mean, if it’s tricky at all—’
‘It’ll be fine,’ he says quickly. A small pause hangs.
‘I know how I’d feel,’ I add, ‘if Charlie had just gone through a break-up …’
‘But he hasn’t been in a situation like that.’
‘No, I know, James,’ I say, frowning. ‘I’m just saying …’
‘I’m sorry. It’s just been a bit of a time lately.’
‘Please do say if you don’t want to come.’
‘I do. I do want to come, more than anything!’
‘Could Esther stay with her mum while you’re away?’
‘Maybe. I’ll see. We’ll sort it.’ We end the call curtly, with him sounding distracted. I try to shake off a prickle of annoyance, and remind myself that I’m an adult and I’ve had plenty of practice in fending for myself. But even so, it occurs to me now that we haven’t talked about our Christmases – or anything really over the past few days.
If we had, I might have told James that Charlie had FaceTimed his dad on Christmas Day, as he always does. Up until that point he’d seemed perfectly fine and happy, enjoying hanging out with Kim, Lorenzo and the girls, all of us together. However, after the call it was as if a shutter had come down. I’d tried to broach it, asking, ‘Did that go okay?’
‘Yeah, it was fine,’ he’d replied, snappily.
I knew there was no point in probing any further, so I’d let it go. And now James is saying, ‘Esther can call me in Cornwall if she needs me.’
‘James, she can’t,’ I remind him. ‘There’s no Wi-Fi, no phone signal. There’s not even a landline—’
‘No landline?’ he repeats.
‘No, it’s off-grid remember?’
Another pause hovers. ‘It’ll be fine,’ James says, unconvincingly.
‘Will it, though? What if there’s some drama while you’re away?’
‘There won’t be any drama.’
How can you say that?I want to ask him.There’s always drama where your daughter’s concerned.‘But what if there is?’ I ask, wishing now that I hadn’t started us on this track.
‘We can’t just not go away, can we?’ James says. ‘We have to think of ourselves too.’
