“Yeah. Nella.”
Drew snorts a laugh. Caitlin smiles. I am enchanted by Nancy’s confidence in her rightness, even when she isn’t quite there.
After a whirlwind of tooth brushing, using the loo, washing hands, getting wrapped up in coats and scarves, Nancy says a hasty goodbye to Drew and Caitlin without even looking over her shoulder as we leave the house.
“I’ll be back with her by lunchtime,” I call over mine as I’m dragged to the car.
I secure her in her seat, bopping her on the nose, which elicits a squeal of enjoyment, and then climb into the driver’s seat.
We take the coast road from Happisburgh, through the villages of Eccles-on-Sea, Sea Palling, and Waxham, before we come to Horsey Gap, the same beach I brought Corey to all those weeks ago.
I’d been remembering our visit here last night, and after Nancy’s first visit to my house with Drew and Caitlin two days ago, I knew this was where I wanted to bring her on our outing today. She’d been ecstatic with the mural Corey painted in her room, especially the seals she kept pointing at while waving Wrinkles’ – the name she’s given to the stuffed seal I gave her –small fin at them in ‘hello’.
We bundle out of the car and pull on our wellies that I brought with me from home – thank God for my mother – and Nancy is delighted with her purple unicorn boots with handles instead of ears so she can tug them on herself.
We march along the footpath, Nancy brimming with excitement about being at the beach.
Drew told me they’d taken her to the seaside last summer and she’d spent hours building sand-butterflies. Not castles or forts with moats. No, she’d piled up sand and shaped it with her hands until she had somewhat of a shape of a butterfly.
Caitlin showed me a picture, and it was close enough. You could at least see what it was supposed to be. But she enjoyed herself, and that’s the most important thing.
As we reach the dunes and start to climb, Nancy seems to sink backwards more than she takes any strides forward. I chuckle at her frustration when she stops still and stomps her unicorn boot a little on the sand. Concerned I’m about to face my first meltdown with nobody here to help me, I brace myself, but she simplyturns around and lifts her arms at me.
“Up,” she demands, and I scoop her up easily. She’s desperate to get where we’re going, though, so she leans back and pushes up, trying to see over the crest of the dunes, and it takes all my upper body strength to keep hold of her. Who knew just carrying a child was such a workout?
“Ready?” I ask, as we’re just about to reach the top. She bounces excitedly, letting loose a high-pitched squeak that makes me wince slightly.
“Look,” I say, as we are finally able to see over the edge of the dunes and down onto the beach below, where the colony of grey seals is redolent in the winter sunshine.
“Wrinkles,” she squeals loudly, and I shush her quickly.
“We have to be very quiet, poppet, so we don’t scare them. OK?”
She nods sagely and proceeds to whisper-shout in my ear.
“Can I cuddle them?” she asks, and I smile at her apologetically.
“No, sweetheart, they’re wild animals, which means we have to leave them alone. Butwe can stay here and watch them and wave at them for as long as you like.”
Nancy is delighted and, when I put her down from my hold, she promptly plops her bum down on a tuft of grass and watches them as though auditioning to be the next David Attenborough. I look to the sky and, in my head, say a quick prayer for the elderly man. When he passes, several generations of British people will mourn as though they’ve just lost their own grandad.
‘As long as she likes’ turns out to be about twenty-five minutes, before Nancy is bored and wants to do something else. We trudge back to the car, and after some boot shaking and a quick shoe change, we’re on our way to Mum and Dad’s home.
The next step of our transition plan is to introduce Nancy to her grandparents. Wren is out on the farm today, and she knows to keep clear of the farmhouse so we don’t overwhelm her. Nancy goes quiet in her car seat when I pull into the driveway, and when I unfasten the safety belts of her seat, she quickly wraps her arms around my neck, making it clear she wants to be carried. It’s a little awkward to navigate both of us out of the back seat with her clinging on to me without banging our heads,but I manage it with only a small bump to the back of mine.
Mum and Dad both come outside to meet Nancy, Mum barely containing her tears, but Nancy is nervous, and she buries her face in my neck, not making eye contact.
“Oh, sweetheart—” Mum starts, but I give her a tiny shake of my head and smile to indicate that she’s OK.
“Shall we have a nice cup of tea?” Dad asks, reading the situation perfectly as he always does.
“That sounds great,” I reply. “And what about you, poppet?” I say, leaning back a little to catch my daughter’s eye. “Would you like some hot chocolate?” She’s looking at me from the corner of her eye without moving her head, and my craning neck can only hold that position for a second or two, but when she nods slightly before pulling Wrinkles closer to her face, I see Mum clasp her hands in front of her chest before bustling into the kitchen.
“Righto, well I best get some of my famous hot chocolate extravaganza on the go, hadn’t I?” Mum’s voice is chipper, if a little thick, and she quickly sets about pouring milk and a little cream into a small saucepan, beforedropping some chocolate pieces into it to melt.
As Nancy spots the chocolate and the extra cream Mum pours into a bowl ready for whipping, Nancy wriggles and wants to be let down. She makes her way slowly to the edge of the kitchen counter and peers over the top, watching Mum like a hawk.
Dad goes into the boot room off the back of the kitchen and reappears a moment later with a small stepstool in hand. With a wink at Nancy, he nods his head toward my Mum. I’m floored when, with only a little hesitation, she goes to stand next to Mum and lets Dad help her up onto the stool.
