“Hooray!” said Poppy. “Mummy said you were too busy working to come bouldering on my birthday but at least we can have pizza and cake.”
Carrie wished the ground would open up and swallow her.
“I can close the shop on Tuesday if you’d like to go bouldering,” said Michael.
“Michael . . .” began Carrie.
“If you have something planned just the two of you it’s fine, but Layla and I would be thrilled to go to the bouldering centre with you.”
Poppy looked absolutely ecstatic.
“Poppy, hop in the car, would you? We need to get going or we’ll be late for the swimming session,” said Carrie.
Poppy got in and closed the car door.
“Michael,” Carrie said quietly. “You don’t have to close your business for the day to come out with my daughter for her birthday.”
“I’m not meaning to intrude . . .” he said.
“No, no, it’s not that.”
“Carrie, you and Poppy mean a lot to Layla and me. One of the reasons I work as I do is so that I can not work if there’s something that’s more important for me to do. Poppy’s birthday definitely counts as this.”
“OK,” said Carrie, with a nod.
“But honestly, if you have other plans, I completely understand.”
“No . . .”
“Hey,” Michael said gently. “We’ll chat about it later. I’m not wanting to butt in or take over. Layla and I would just really like to spend Poppy’s birthday with her. And Layla would love to have you both at her birthday party on Friday.”
“Thank you,” said Carrie. For some reason she felt a little teary.
She got in the car and watched as Michael went into his garden. He was so perfect — he didn’t even hang around to watch while she was reversing.
* * *
Carrie and Poppy had a great time at the swimming pool and then grabbed lunch from Gregg’s which they ate in the park near the leisure centre before heading to the supermarket.
They stopped off at Aunt Mary’s cottage on their way back and used the key she’d left Carrie to go in and put the food they’d picked up for her in the kitchen. Carrie figured it was the absolute least they could do after all she’d done to make the flat so welcoming for them.
Carrie had visited the cottage a few times before Poppy was born. It was adorable, painted white with an actual thatched roof and a garden that wrapped all the way around it, full of flower-beds which were a riot of colour. Aunt Mary had a gardener who came twice a week; he was the only person she trusted to touch her roses, and she lived in perpetual fear that he would retire. The garden certainly looked beautiful.
Inside was cosy and, of course, full of books. The main bedroom with an en suite was downstairs, which was what had made it so perfect for Carrie’s uncle when he began to struggle with the bookshop’s flat. Then there was a sitting room, leading through to a conservatory and a large kitchen. Upstairs were two more bedrooms and a bathroom. Poppy investigated the garden while Carrie aired the house a little and put the food away. It began to rain and Poppy came running back in.
“Shall we get back to the flat and watch a film together?” Carrie suggested. “We can make hot chocolates and snuggle under blankets and pretend it’s winter.”
“That sounds good,” said Poppy.
“Would you like me to see if Michael is free to come round for dinner?”
“Definitely.”
“I’ll message him. And are you positive about what you’d like to do for your birthday? As long as Michael and Layla are free.”
“Yes.” Poppy nodded and nodded some more. “I really want to go bouldering and make pizzas.”
“OK,” said Carrie. “Then that is what we’ll do for your birthday.”
