I used the time without her to look around the room, sat on the floor guarding Rose. There were photos, ones of Rose, some of Rose and Georgia together and a couple of the two of them with two other women who I assumed were Georgia’s mum and sister.
None were of anyone who could’ve been Rose’s father.
“Here. Tea.” She handed me a mug that looked like it held about a pint. “I was tempted to get the wine, but I’ll wait till Olivia’s home, just in case we need to drive anywhere with Rose.”
She studied her daughter and I saw her shoulders relax and her face look less pained.
“Thank you so much for today and I’m sorry I hadn’t told you about her. I get it was a bit of a shock.”
I waited until she was looking at me. “It was. I don’t understand why you haven’t told everyone about her. She’s smart and gorgeous and clearly a great kid.”
I felt the ghost of my mother’s slap at calling out on a woman who’d clearly just had a shit afternoon, but I wasn’t leaving it until tomorrow.
Georgia sat down on the chair that looked as if it had been built to hold her. “You get judged as a woman with a child. It’s assumed you have to leave work or can’t do your job like a man can because you need to prioritise. Where I worked before taught me that and I didn’t want to start at Callaghan Green with the same preconceptions.”
“Have you met Claire?”
Georgia nodded. “I realised when I saw her in the partners’ briefing breastfeeding Niamh that things were different, but I couldn’t assume that, Seph. Most places aren’t. Women still have to fight to be treated as equals in a lot of cases.”
There was something to her tone that told me there was more than this. I wanted to defend my profession and my gender; we weren’t all judgmental and not all of us compartmentalised so that home didn’t spill into work. My mother had made our family the number one priority from the moment she left New York and came to live with my four oldest siblings and our dad had finally understood that who you loved was more important than any client or file.
So we’d changed how we did it. Our employees had families. Help them look after their loved ones and we’d be rewarded with loyalty, people would be happier, they’d be more productive and less stressed. Parental leave was good, paternity leave was encouraged. We trusted our employees to make up time if they needed to leave work to pick up poorly kids or look after relatives, within reason, because we also knew that there were always the piss takers. It was finding that balance.
“True. But I’m hurt that you thought I’d assume that because you had Rose you wouldn’t give your all. She’s going to make you want to give everything.”
Georgia nodded but didn’t look me in the eye.
“She does.”
There was the sound of the front door opening and hurried feet against the wooden flooring.
“The small elephant you can hear is Olivia. She got kicked out of ballet for being too flat footed.”
The small elephant slowly pushed open the door into the lounge. “Hey.” She spoke quietly, looking at Rose. “How is she? I only heard your voicemail half an hour ago, else I’d’ve been here sooner.” She transferred her gaze to me. “Seph?”
“The one and only.” I held up my mug of tea to say cheers. “Olivia?”
“Definitely the one and only.” She crouched by the sofa, coat still on. “She looks okay.”
Rose was still fast asleep.
“Is she okay sleeping? I thought you were meant to keep concussed kids awake?” Olivia looked between me and Georgia.
“Sleeping’s fine. There’s a long list of things to look out for, but Shay – Seph’s cousin – said he thinks this is just a bang on the head and not a concussion, or if it is, it’s mild.” Georgia smiled. “How was your meeting?”
Olivia nodded. “Good. I’m not moving to New York. I’ve decided to stay here, so you’re stuck with me a bit longer.” She sat down in the other chair. “I expect a huge party to be held in my honour.”
Georgia laughed. “No party, but I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
“That’ll do.” Olivia smiled.
Her eyes went to me as soon as Georgia left the room. “She didn’t tell you about Rose. I told her to.”
“I get why she didn’t. But my sister would use the innards of anyone who suggested that having a child meant you didn’t care about your career to make soup. And my mother would help.” And I probably would too.
“Good to know.” She assessed me, looking me over as if I was a specimen in a lab. “Thank you for looking after them. Georgia goes to pieces if Rose is ill. When I heard the message she left I was worried about both of them.”
I didn’t respond, not at first. I wasn’t a parent; I couldn’t directly sympathise and to say I knew Rose would be okay would be crass. “I banged my head a few times as a kid. By the third time my mum didn’t take me to casualty, but I remember how upset she’d been when Ava – my little sister – broke her ankle at school. For about five minutes – then practicalities kicked in.”
