‘Hi. Sorry, I’ll just be a minute,’ he says to me, covering the mouthpiece. ‘Come in.’
He steps back to let me pass. I do so, reluctantly.
‘I don’tknow, Mum.’ He speaks again into the receiver, raising his voice over the din. He jerks his head towards the kitchen, so I lead the way, horribly aware that we’re headingtowardsthe noise. ‘Yeah. CalpolandNurofen,’ I hear him say.
April is sitting in a square playpen that wasn’t there the last time I came, screaming at the top of her lungs. Her face is red and puffy and she has a river of snot trailing down from her nose. She looks up and sees me.
I step away from the playpen.
‘I don’t have any. I don’thaveany!’ Charlie shouts to make himself heard. He looks incredibly harassed as he grabs the kettle and fills it up, cradling the phone to his ear. ‘Tea?’ he mouths at me.
‘I’ll do it,’ I mouth in return. He lets me take over.
I try not to look as alarmed as I feel. The kitchen is a tip, with plates piled in and by the sink, and food and drink spills over the worktops and on the floors. The sofa opposite the playpen is crammed with toys, clothes, babywipes and other baby paraphernalia. It is a far, far cry from the last time I was here.
‘She won’tgodown!’ Charlie says loudly into the receiver, freezing in motion to listen to whatever it is his mum is saying in reply. ‘All right, I’ll try.’ Pause. ‘I saidall right, I’lltry!’ He huffs and listens again. ‘Thankyou,’ he says acerbically. He ends the call and mutters something under his breath, barely looking my way.
I get a couple of mugs out from the cupboard. ‘Do you want one?’
‘I think I need a shot of tequila,’ he replies.
‘It’s a slippery slope,’ I tease, but he doesn’t find it funny.
He goes to the playpen and I glance over to see April holding her arms up to him while she screams. He lifts her out of the pen and walks out of the room, taking some of the noise with him.
I probably let the tea brew for a few minutes longer than necessary, but, by the time I tentatively appear at the living-room door, the screaming has quietened to hiccuppy breathing. Charlie has April over his shoulder and is jigging her around. She notices me and turns her face away to bury it in her dad’s neck. I place the tea on the coffee table.
‘Is she okay?’ I ask in a whisper.
Charlie closes his eyes briefly in resignation and nods.
‘Shall I go and get started?’
He nods again.
Nicki’s computer screen has been dusted since the last time I came here and her desk has been wiped down, too. But, if Charlie has a cleaner, she hasn’t been this morning.
I switch on the computer, and, while I’m waiting for it to fire up, I get my notepad and pen out of my rucksack. The first thing I want to do is read the beginning of the sequel. I’m hoping to find some clues as to where Nicki was going with it.
Ten minutes later there’s a knock on the door.
‘Come in,’ I call, swivelling in my chair to see Charlie enter.
‘Have you got everything you need?’ he asks. His face is racked with exhaustion.
‘Yes, I’m fine. I’m readingConfessions. The first few pages are great,’ I think to add.
He nods, but I can tell he’s not in the mood to hear about Nicki’s book.
‘How’s April?’ I ask.
He sighs and leans against the doorframe. ‘I managed to get her to sleep in her pram. She’s been up half the night.’
‘You must be knackered.’ His eyes are tinged red.
‘Mmm. Turns out she was, too. She wouldn’t normally nap until ten.’
He rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. He hasn’t shaved this morning.
