‘Charlie?’ I ask with building nausea.
He jolts at the sound of my voice, but he doesn’t reply.
‘Are you okay?’
That’s when I hear him sniff.Please don’t tell me I’ve made him cry!
‘I’m so sorry.’ I feel absolutely horrified as I approach him. He’s staring at the incomplete driftwood heart on the table in front of him, his tears falling in a steady stream, even as he continually brushes them away.
Oh, God!
‘Where’s April?’ I ask softly, placing my hand on his back.
He shudders. ‘Living room,’ he replies in a choked voice. ‘Can you check on her?’
‘Of course,’ I say quickly, leaving the room.
Bridget, you are such a fucking arse! What thehellwere you thinking? He was in thebestmood earlier. I can’t believe I’ve shattered his happiness today.
I’m furious with myself as I leave the kitchen, but as soon as I set eyes on April, my anger dissolves.
‘Hello, lovely girl,’ I murmur.
She’s strapped into her Jumperoo – a brightly coloured contraption that allows her to bounce up and down and spin around while playing with the various toys, rattles and lights affixed to the surrounding tray.
She grins up at me and bounces on her feet, then reaches for one of the squashy flowers dangling from the top frame and places it in her mouth, munching up and down. She stops and takes the flower out of her mouth to stare at it, then she looks up at me and lets out a cry of complaint.
‘Are you hungry?’ I ask. ‘I’ll get you some lunch. We’ll just give Daddy a minute.’
I kneel on the floor next to her and press one of the musical buttons, singing along in a silly voice as the lights flash. It distracts her for a while, but then Charlie walks suddenly into the room, making us both jump. She holds up her arms to him, wanting to be lifted out.
‘Come on, then,’ he mumbles, complying.
He takes her back into the kitchen while I stay on the floor, feeling utterly wretched.
After a while I head back upstairs to the office, avoiding looking in the direction of the kitchen. I flick through one of Nicki’s Thailand books, trying to focus on the pages she’d Post-it-noted, but I can’t take anything in, so the exercise proves futile.
I eventually decide I may as well write up my Dillon encounter, but I soon find my heart’s not in it. I’m very well aware of the irony of that sentence.
When Charlie knocks on the door, my insides twang with nerves.
‘Come in,’ I call.
I find it very hard to meet his eyes as he enters the room.
‘April’s down for her nap,’ he says heavily.
‘Is it that time already?’ I ask.
He nods.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I whisper, my eyes beginning to sting.
‘Stop,’ he says quietly, leaning against one of the filing cabinets and folding his arms protectively across his chest. ‘It’s okay.’
‘I don’t know what I was thinking.’
‘I said I wanted to finish it.’
