‘Hold on, you can’t…’Nick’s protest came too late. Carla was halfway across the hall, her hand still gripping the little girl’s.
‘This’ll do.’ She glanced around the open-plan room as though she was doing a home inspection. ‘Nice place.’
‘You can’t just barge in here!’
‘Sit tight, Emily,’ Carla murmured, pointing to the snug. ‘See what’s on the TV, OK?’
Emily’s eyes darted between them, unsure, but she did as she was told.
Nick ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the fog. ‘Alright. Start again. Who are you, and what do you want?’
‘Plymouth, 2019.’ Carla pulled out her phone and scrolled through photos. ‘Here, see?’
Nick squinted at the photo of himself, younger and probably drunk. ‘Zizi’s nightclub,’ he muttered.
She nodded. ‘You came to mine afterwards.’
He let out a low whistle. ‘Right. OK. I don’t remember much about that night. Did we take photos or something? Are you trying to accuse me of something I didn’t do years after the event? Is this is some kind of blackmail?’
Carla actually laughed. ‘Relax. I don’t want money.’
‘Then what do you want?’
‘To talk.’ She glanced towards the snug, checking on the child. ‘Preferably where Emily can’t hear.’
Nick gestured to the sofa, feeling like a guest in his own house. Carla sat, perching on the edge, hands clasped tightly together.
‘I’ll make coffee,’ he muttered, retreating to the kitchen area. It gave him a moment to breathe. There was a familiarity to Carlathat irritated him, and she’d brought with her a heaviness that hung in the air like the thick heat of summer. When he turned, two mugs in hand, she was watching him carefully.
‘You said you didn’t want money,’ he said, passing her a cup. ‘And you’re not here to accuse me of anything. So what’s this really about?’
Carla took a long sip before answering. ‘Emily is your daughter.’
Nick’s fingers froze around the handle. He blinked, convinced he’d misheard. ‘I’m sorry, what?’
‘You heard me.’
He set his mug down too quickly, coffee sloshing over the rim. ‘That’s ridiculous. You can’t show up out of nowhere and say something like that.’
‘I wish it were ridiculous.’ Her voice had softened. ‘I didn’t plan this. I’ve been putting it off for weeks. But I’ve run out of options.’
‘You expect me to believe you had a kid with me and never told me?’
Carla’s eyes flickered, guilt and pride battling for space. ‘I was young. I’d just come out of a mess of a relationship, and you, well, you were a mistake I couldn’t undo. I told myself I’d manage on my own. And I have. Until now.’
Nick rubbed a hand across his face. His heart was hammering, not from anger so much as confusion. ‘Why now? Why today?’
She hesitated. When she spoke again, her voice shook. ‘My dad’s dying. Liver failure. He lives alone in Bristol. I need to be with him for a few days, maybe a week. And I can’t take Emily. It’s not safe. He’s… not a kind man, even when he’s dying.’
‘Then find a friend, a neighbour, a…’
‘I’ve tried. Everyone’s working, away, or can’t have a child in the house. I’ve been making calls nonstop.’ She took a shakybreath. ‘You were my last hope. Believe me, if there were anyone else, I wouldn’t be standing here.’
Nick stared at her, searching for any sign she was lying. Her eyes were glassy, her fingers trembling around the mug.
‘You can’t drop a child on me,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t know her. I don’t even know you. You don’t know me either. I could be… I could be an axe murderer.’
‘I guess it sounds mad,’ she said. ‘But even if you don’t remember me, I remember you. We hung around with the same crowd for several years, not that you paid any attention to me until that fateful night. We have enough mutual friends for me to know Emily will be safe with you.’
