“Hi, you. We’re at Joyland, and the Snails is a rollercoaster,” I explain. Corey inclines his head in understanding.
“I see,” he says. “Did you just want to make me sad that I’m missing out, Miss Nancy? I’m at work today,” he pouts exaggeratedly.
“You can come with us, Bunny,” Nancy says.
“I thought we could have you on the call while we ride if you have the time? We’re about to get on.”
“Oh yes, that sounds like so much fun.” He grins, and genuine excitement fills his face. I wish so badly he were here for real.
We climb the galvanised metal stairs onto the platform, the mechanism of the vintage rollercoaster click click clicking loudly as the toxic green snail car with a maniacal face and a Dali-esque moustache approaches. I turn the camera on the video call so Corey can see it approaching, and I stifle a laugh as he almost swears loudly at its odd paint job.
I climb in first, then lift Nancy inside and secure the seatbelt around both of us. She tries to wave at our family, who wave back enthusiastically over the fencing, calling Nancy’s name like she’s a celebrity. My daughter preens. Corey is giggling through the phone – I love how much he loves her sassiness – and when I look at the screen, I see he’s waving at my family, too.
Nancy’s bouncing in her seat, and when the car starts to move forward, she squeaks and grips my arm harder than I would expect a four-year-old to be able to manage. As the rickety rollercoaster rocks us from side to side and we careen up and down what feel like enormous bumps but are in fact only a few feet high, I, and some of my more intimate body parts, become increasingly glad that it’s over in less than threeminutes.
“That’s was ’mazing, Daddy. Again?” Nancy shouts, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.
“Maybe in a little while, baby girl. Or maybe Uncle Cole might go on with you?”
“Yay,” she cries as she leaps through the exit gate and launches herself at Cole. I can see she’s convincing him, not that it takes a lot. I’m pretty sure Cole would walk over hot coals for Nancy.
“Well,” Corey says, his voice thick with giggles once again. “That was quite something.” I turn the camera back to my face as I exit the ride enclosure just as Nancy goes in again with Cole in tow.
“I think my balls are gone forever.” I wince.
“I sincerely hope not,” Corey says, mischief in his eyes. I growl lowly at him, a warning to behave.
I’m quickly surrounded as everyone says hello to Corey, and then he has to go because there’s a Boxercise class finishing and he has to clean the studio. I step away so I can speak to him privately.
“Any news?” DI Martin had called him twodays ago, informing Corey that they had a lead on Dominic’s whereabouts. A call had been received by Dan in prison, and the police are following up on the location it came from.
“Nothing yet. I’ll call you as soon as I hear.” I smile reassuringly.
“It won’t be long now, baby.”
“I hope so. I’m ready to come home. I l—” He stops himself abruptly. “I miss you all so much.” I sag a little, unsure of what he was about to say, but hoping it might have been the three words I’ve been dying to say to him, but refuse to until he is standing in front of me, finally home for good.
“We miss you too. Keep me posted. Call me later?”
“Of course.”
He hangs up, and I go back to watch Nancy on her third go around on the Snails, this time with Rain as her victim.
***
We stayed at Joyland a couple more hours, but by the end, Nancy was dead on her feet. We made our way home, and she had a very quick bath before I tucked her into bed. Poppy has just arrived to babysit for me so I can meet myfamily once more for dinner at the White Horse.
Poppy adores Nancy, and the feeling is very much mutual. The first time we went into Poppy’s Café, I ordered an almond croissant with a black Americano as usual, while Nancy asked for a ‘pacosofolat’, which baffled both Poppy and me. Weirdly, Chris, Poppy’s husband and the chef in the café, apparently speaks fluent pre-schooler, and deciphered it as a pain au chocolat, and ever since then Nancy comes home with one of Chris’s chocolate pastries every time we pass, and my daughter has clearly stolen yet another couple of hearts.
“She’s fast asleep, but just ring me if you need anything.”
“We’ll be fine. I’ve got some work to do,” she says, indicating her laptop bag, “and then I plan on reading my new Scarlett Drake book.”
“Nice. What’s this one about?”
“Rain said it’s a gay reimagining of Great Expectations, so I’m excited. It has very good reviews.”
“Well,” I say, with a quick kiss to her cheek, “thank you so much for watching her.”
