‘It’s OK,’ I reassured him. ‘I know you didn’t. Lexie was just talking.’ Out of my depth, I tried to pull together the damaged threads of us. ‘I think we need to talk about Daddy. I know it seems like sometimes he’s cross…’
‘He’s always cross,’ you said.
‘Lexie’s right, Mum.’ Ollie looked unhappy. ‘It’s like he hates us.’
That was your memory, when you looked back. You and Ollie, both of you plucking up the courage to tell me how you really felt.
‘He doesn’t hate you.’ I looked at him, shocked. ‘He’s your dad, Ollie. He loves you. I know he gets angry. But it isn’t your fault.’ The silence was agonising as I sat there, knowing we should talk about this. But for the life of me, I didn’t know what to say. ‘How long have you been feeling like this?’ I asked as gently as I could.
‘A long time,’ you said.
I looked at your brother. ‘Olls?’
He shrugged. ‘Like Lexie said. Quite a long time.’
‘Listen.’ I reached an arm around Ollie. Held both of you close to me, blinking away the tears that were suddenly in my eyes. ‘I promise you Daddy does love you,’ I said softly. Desperately. ‘Sometimes grown-ups have other things on their minds. It can make them seem grumpy. But I can tell you, if Daddy is like that, it’s not because of anything either of you have done.’ I paused. ‘Do you understand that?’
Ollie shrugged again. ‘OK.’
Still sitting on my lap, you sighed. ‘I wish he could just be nicer,’ you said.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t picked up on how you were feeling; it was heartbreaking to acknowledge how, until now, you and Ollie hadn’t told me. I imagined talking to Ryan, knowing how it would go down. Denial, followed by anger; a refusal to see it through anyone’s eyes but his own.
Hoping it would pass, in desperation I resorted to the tried and tested deflection as I stood up, eased you down. ‘I think breakfast is needed. How about I make pancakes?’
This morning, even the mention of your favourite food didn’t raise your spirits. After making some anyway, you both ate several. But the conversation weighed on my mind and for the rest of the day, I went the extra mile. Yours and Ollie’s favourite playground, chips on the beach for lunch. Ice cream in the afternoon. When I suggested going on the pier, at last your eyes lit up.
That evening, the three of us piled onto the sofa and watched a movie together. The multi-coloured iced cake we’d made was on the coffee table, with glasses of fizzy drinks. You remembered that, too.
You always tried too hard to make things right, Mum.
The movie was one we’d watched before that the three of us loved. Engrossed, none of us noticed when the front door opened, then Ryan walked in.
‘Turn it down, will you?’
Hearing his voice, I leapt up. ‘I didn’t think you were home until tomorrow.’ Instantly apprehensive, I tried to smile. ‘How was your course?’
‘Isn’t it time the children were in bed?’
‘It’s Saturday night, Ryan. There’s only another half an hour of this.’
I held my breath, waiting for him to argue. But he turned and marched into the kitchen.
I sat down with you and Ollie again, glancing at both of you. But your earlier high spirits had taken flight, leaving drawn faces, anxiety-laden eyes. Anxiety put there by Ryan. I reached my arms around you both. ‘Let’s enjoy the rest,’ I said softly.
‘That’s what I mean,’ you murmured as you nestled in against me.
I was silent. But I knew what you were saying. Within seconds of coming in, the atmosphere had changed, Ryan’s presence leaving the three of us walking on eggshells.
‘So how was your course?’ I asked Ryan again, once you and Ollie had gone to bed. ‘I thought you weren’t due back until tomorrow.’
‘I never said that,’ he said defensively.
I checked the calendar. ‘Well, that’s what’s been written on here.’
‘I must have got the dates wrong,’ Ryan said. ‘Is there any food in the fridge?’
‘Some cold chicken – and cheese.’ I looked at him for a moment. ‘Do you realise you didn’t even say hello to your children?’
