Taking the paper from him, she drew her own family tree. She put the wordMammain the top left-hand corner. The wordPapàin the top right-hand corner. Then the wordMeat the bottom in the middle. She purposefully didn’t draw arrows linking any of them together.
Jayden raised his eyes to her and then flicked his finger between them, as though demonstrating he and she were the same, but Gabi shook her head.
‘Not the same,’ she said, ‘because you have a mum who loves you very much.’
Gabi leaned forwards, determined to make Jayden feel better.
‘We can ask your mum tonight about her family in Jamaica,’ Gabi said, pulling his page towards her. She chose a bright red pen and wrote aunts, uncles, cousins, Grandma, Grandpa on his sheet around the wordMe. His face brightened.
‘And we could put on all the people that love you as family here in Honeybridge. They’re just as good as family.’ She wrote Rosie, Wren, Riley and added exclamation marks. Round the edges of the paper, she added Fox and his boys, Walker, Etienne, Isabella.
Suddenly the page looked full to bursting. She glanced back at her sheet beside it on the table. The wordMesat in splendid isolation at the bottom in the middle of the page. Who could she add apart from Isabella, Zio and Zia? Nobody.
Jayden picked up both pages and compared them in his hands. His full one. Her empty one. Picking up the pen again, he bent his head and circled one word on her page. Dad. The moment sat heavy between them. Gabi was so far out of her depth she needed a life belt. She knew Jayden’s dad had left when Jayden’s hearing loss was confirmed and had never shown his face again. She knew that since then, the only man Jayden had had a relationship with was Alex and it hadn’t ended well. Her heart hammered.
Jayden took the pen.
I wish I had a dad.
There it was. A simple truth. She sighed and nodded, realising the only thing she could do was acknowledge his feelings. She’d had the latest text from her papà yesterday, on the first of May. And even though she knew her papà, the same words rang true for her. She wished she had a dad.
‘But your mum is a ten out of ten,’ she said, nudging him. The mood needed changing, and Gabi knew just how to do it. Something physical which would shake him up and out of his gloom. Something that would make them both laugh.
‘Let’s do something different tonight,’ she said. ‘Go and get changed. I’m going to teach you how to fall– safely. You’re going to be a stuntman.’
His eyes lit up and he surprised her with a hot, small-boy hug before racing from the room. Great, his worries were already forgotten. She wished she could forget her family worries as easily. She started looking around for something they could use as a crash pad when the doorbell rang.
She limped her way down the hall and opened the front door to a very unexpected pleasure. Walker.
‘Hi,’ he said, in his soft Scottish voice. He was in jeans and a Scottish rugby shirt, obviously not on shift. He looked so fine, holding a plain parcel wrapped in brown paper. ‘I was hoping you’d be home.’
‘Then it’s your lucky day,’ Gabi said, thinking the same and glad that she was in. She held the door open and sneaked a look at his denim-clad bum as he preceded her down the hall.
‘How’s your week been?’ she asked, which immediately made her think of the last time she’d seen him. Or felt him, more like.
‘Busy,’ he said. ‘A house fire, two school visits and one woman trapped in a toilet.’ Gabi snorted. ‘How about yours?’
‘Busy too,’ she said. ‘Three physio sessions, four gym sessions and two trips to the shops to replace things I’ve dropped.’
‘I might be able to help with that,’ Walker said. ‘I was thinking about what you said, about how you can’t carry anything. So, I made you this.’ He held the parcel out between them and Gabi bit her lip in surprise.
She couldn’t remember the last time anyone apart from Isabella had bought her a present. She was quite often away working for her birthday, and usually celebrated quietly with a cake and a card signed by the crew, if she was lucky. If she was at home, she might meet Isabella for dinner or drinks. Her parents didn’t send anything. Her dad always remembered the day at least and sent her his usual message. Her mum occasionally remembered– depending on how much fun she was having. So, presents were few and far between. At Christmas, if she joined Isabella and her parents, then there were always gifts. But her zia and zio had been travelling for the past couple of years and instead FaceTimed her on Christmas Day with a beach or a jungle in the background. Still, that was a present in itself.
Walker pressed the gift closer to her now, and she took it in her hands, lost for words.
The paper wasn’t fancy. It was brown, thick, and sellotaped neatly along the edges. Gabi peeled the tape carefully and folded the paper back to reveal a wooden, rectangular tray which had been customised with the addition of a pair of elastic braces to the handles on the sides.
Gabi lifted it towards her, realising what it was designed to be, and made a small sound of amazement.
‘You made this?’ she asked and saw a slight colour in his cheeks as he nodded.
‘Here, let me,’ he said, taking the tray out of her hands. She held her breath as he moved behind her and she felt his fingers against her lower back, clipping the braces onto her jeans. Then he was in front of her, close enough for her to see the rise of his chest as he settled the straps over her shoulders and smoothed them down.
‘Comfy?’ he asked and waited for her nod before moving back. The tray was now balanced against her waist, perfectly level and steady.
She picked up her crutches and gave him the nod.
‘Let’s try this out,’ she said and Walker grabbed her forgotten coffee cup from the table and placed it on the tray. She made her way one full circuit of the table. The coffee didn’t spill.
