“You’re welcome, babe.”
Fuck, I miss him.
***
Two weeks and about twelve interviews later, I’m no closer to finding anyone. They’re either woefully inexperienced, so authoritarian they’d give Pol Pot a run for his money, or so young they look like they still need a nanny themselves.
I’m taking a day off from the search, and I’m taking my daughter to Joyland with her uncles and auntie. We haven’t all been togetherproperly for a few weeks since Mum and Dad have gone away on a cruise, which has meant our Sunday lunches have been put on hold til they get back.
In fact, Wren’s precise words were: “You can get fucked if you think I’m slaving over a hot stove all day to feed you gannets like Mum does.” Such a delicate flower.
I secure Nancy in her car seat after the, slightly improved, twenty-seven minutes of faffing before we could leave the house, and start the journey to collect Wren and Sam. They’re officially a couple now, despite none of us having a clue what the hell has gone on. I’m hoping she might finally tell us today when Mum and Dad aren’t around.
“Hello, sugarplum,” Wren coos at Nancy as she climbs into the back seat. “Look at your cute seal jumper. Did Bunny send you that?”
“Yes. Bunny sended it. He’s going to get a matching one, too. He’s my best friend in the whole wide university.” Wren laughs gently at her seriousness.
“He is? What about me?”
“You’re not my friend, silly. You’re my Auntie Wren,” Nancy shrugs as if to say ‘and that’s that’. Wren catches my eye in the mirrorand winks at me as she pats my shoulder affectionately.
“Hello, sugarplum,” Sam coos at me when he climbs into the passenger seat.
“Oh fu- er, get lost with that,” I stutter as Sam scoffs at me, an amused smirk on his stupid face. “I’ll get you back for that,” I warn. “You won’t know when it’s coming, but trust me, it’s coming.”
We hit the road, the journey to Great Yarmouth only taking about twenty-five minutes. I park in the roadside bays on the seafront, breathing in the sharp bite of the salty air as soon as I exit the car. The seafront is not what it once was in its Victorian heyday, but there are still a huge number of holidaymakers milling about, most of them likely staying at any one of the myriad holiday parks in the area.
I help Nancy out of the car, and immediately she takes Wren and Sam’s hands, wanting to be swung between them as we walk. Hearing her giggle each time they count her in fills me with a joy I don’t think I could’ve ever found anywhere else than in being a father. She really is a dream come true, and I’m so grateful for her therapist, who has helped her settle in so well.
We still have bad days, but they are fewerand farther between, and Nancy knows she has a secure, loving family around her who dotes on her. She has truly taken over as the heart of this family, a role previously embodied by our mother, and one she has been more than happy to hand over to her granddaughter.
We approach the eponymous canopy sign, Joyland spelled out in bright yellow, light-up letters, the sounds of bells, whistles, arcade music, and children having the time of their lives carrying over. Archer, Aidan, and Rain are waiting below the canopy, but Cole is just wandering off towards the white trailers lining the promenade, selling all manner of foods. The strange cocktail of smells in the air is like nowhere else – donuts, candy floss, and the salty tang of seafood and vinegar from the small pots of seafood cocktail, cockles, and whelks.
Cole is already eating a pot of cockles, his eyebrows waggling.
“What?” he asks incredulously. “I love cock-les.” He roars with laughter at his own joke while the rest of us groan in disbelief that this man is in his thirties.
“Can we go in now, Daddy?” Nancy asks, taking my hand and leaning into my leg, her seal jumper already tied around her waist. I knew she’d be too hot in this sunshine, but shewanted to wear it because it’s from Corey. I can’t blame her.
“We sure can. We just need to get the tickets.” I pick her up, and she gladly grasps my shoulders, a little anxious from the noise and the general hustle and bustle. Fenside Common is a small, rural village, and this place in summer is loud, bright, and overwhelming, even to me as an adult. I can completely understand why she might be a bit unsure.
“We got them already,” Rain announces, pulling a giant roll of old-fashioned, orange arcade tickets from his pocket. He gives everyone a long strip, and we head inside.
Watching Nancy squeal with delight on the teacups with Wren and Cole, the pirate ship with Archer, and the Ferris wheel with Rain and Aidan is incredible. She has slotted into our family like she was always meant to be here, through the bad days and the good ones, like today.
There’s only one person missing. When Nancy and I reach the front of the queue for the legendary Snails rollercoaster, an idea pops into my head.
“Hey, poppet. Shall we video call Corey so he can come on the ride with us?” I take herear-splitting shriek as agreement and pull my phone out. She swiftly grabs it from my hand and, far too deftly for a four-year-old, unlocks it with my pin code, navigates to his contact, and hits the small camera button.
“Hello,” Corey’s sweet, slightly tinny, voice says. “Oh! Hello, Miss Nancy. How are you today?”
“I’m very well, thank you, Bunny.”
“Oh my goodness, you’re so polite. Where are you, sweetheart? It’s very noisy.”
“We’re going to sit on the snails,” she says, deadpan, and I kneel down to see a look of affectionate confusion on his face.
“Hi, Doc.” He smiles.
