Charlie wanted nothing to do with her when she returned to the UK. He soon got another girlfriend, but could barely bring himself to speak to Nicki for the rest of their time in sixth form. She was still pining the loss of their friendship when she set off to university in Coventry a year later.
Isak and Nicki went through plenty of ups and downs over the course of their time together. Eventually the long-distance strain got to them both and they broke up in Nicki’s second term of university.
April is wailing in her bedroom when I emerge from the office. I listen out, but can’t hear Pat, only the TV in the living room.
‘Pat?’ I call down the stairs. There’s no answer. I can see from here that the living room door is closed.
I walk over to April’s room and push open the door. She’s standing in her cot, tears streaming down her face. She calls out in a panic as soon as she sees me, stretching her arms up and begging to be lifted out. She looks like she’s been awake for a while – I had my music on, so it’s hard to tell how long.
I go and pick her up and her cries soften. She buries her face against my neck and hugs me tightly.
‘Aw,’ I say, patting her back as she snuffles wetly against me. ‘There there.’ Isn’t that what people say to babies? ‘Shall we go and find Grandma?’
Pat is sitting on the larger of the two sofas in the living room with her feet up on a pouffe, watching daytime TV.
‘Oh!’ She leaps up when she sees me. ‘She’s awake!’
‘I heard her in her cot,’ I reply, handing April over.
Pat looks stricken as her granddaughter begins to cry again. ‘I forgot to bring her blasted monitor downstairs with me!’ She clutches April and jigs her around a bit. ‘I’m sorry, darling,’ she murmurs. ‘Did Nanna not hear you?’
Nanna, not Grandma. I make a mental note.
Pat follows me out of the room to the kitchen, talking away to April as she fixes her some warm milk. As Pat is here, I reckon I’ll get out of the house today and wander into Padstow. It’s drizzling, but I could do with some fresh air.
‘Good morning?’ Pat asks, cuddling a now-quiet baby as the milk warms in the pan on the hob.
‘Yes, great.’
She nods at me expectantly and I find myself saying more.
‘I’m reading through Nicki’s diaries. Trying to get to know the person behind the characters,’ I explain, leaning against the kitchen worktop.
‘That sounds rather voyeuristic.’ She purses her lips.
Funnily enough, Sara said the same thing when she called to touch base with me yesterday. I wasn’t mad keen on that description then, either, so I make a noncommittal ‘mmm’ sound.
‘Could you just hold her a sec while I get her milk ready?’
I do as she asks. I’m starting to feel more comfortable with April now – or, at least, less scared. She hasn’t thrown a paddy on me so far.
There’s still time.
I sit on the sofa, placing her on my lap, facing me. I gently bounce her up and down on my knees and she looks so elated, I bounce her a little more vigorously. She cracks up laughing as if it’s the most hilarious thing that’s ever happened to her, and her reaction makes me laugh, too.
‘You’d better get the bouncing out of the way before she’s had her milk,’ Pat says shrewdly, ‘not after.’
She gives me a smile as she passes me a bottle.
Oh, am I doing this?
I take the bottle from her, slightly surprised to find that I am. April makes a sudden, eager grab for her milk, so I cradle her back in my arms and pop the teat in her mouth. She begins sucking in earnest as Pat pulls damp clothes out of the washing machine and places them in a basket.
I’m supposed to be going into Padstow. Should I not be a little put out? I search my inner feelings and discover that I’m not.
April is gazing up at me with her pretty blue eyes. I stare down at her, my chest expanding in an unfamiliar fashion. She clearly got her eyes from her mother.
And her chipmunk cheeks from her grandmother...
