‘CBeebies only distracts her for so long at her age,’ he says, knowing he doesn’t need to explain his circumstances because I’ve already been made well aware of them. ‘Milk?’
‘Yes, please.’ I move away from the worktop to give him some space. ‘How old is your daughter?’ I ask.
‘Eight and a half months. Sugar?’ He flicks his eyes up to meet mine.
‘No, thanks.’
‘My mum was supposed to be here, but she had an emergency at work,’ he reveals, stirring two teaspoons into his own cup.
‘What does she do?’ I ask.
‘She and my dad run a campsite. They had a burst water main or something.’
‘The campsite on the hill?’
‘No, they’re about an hour away. A couple of mates of mine run the one on the hill. Do you know it?’ Charlie picks up his cup and finally looks at me properly. I thought his eyes were green, but they’re getting on for hazel.
‘Only because my dad mentioned it. He’s stayed there a few times in his campervan,’ I explain.
His daughter cries out again.
‘We’ll go through,’ Charlie says quietly, nodding at the door. I wait until he leads the way.
I see her legs first, bare and chubby and kicking back and forth like nobody’s business. Then the rest of her comes into view – her pastel-coloured babygrow adorned with bunnies, and fine, slightly curly, light-blond hair. She’s strapped into a bouncy chair in front of the television, and Charlie drags the contraption across the wooden floor towards him as he takes a seat on the sofa nearest to the bay window. He pushes on the back of her bouncer to make it move and she giggles.
‘This is April,’ he says, sticking his tongue out at his daughter before nodding at me. ‘That’s Bridget,’ he says more civilly.
‘Hello, April!’ I reply, cringing because my voice sounds too loud and overeager.
April looks over her shoulder at me, her expression vacant. Then her mouth breaks into a toothy grin and she says something unintelligible. Charlie pushes on the back of her bouncer again and she happily returns her attention to him.
I’m tense as I sit down on the second sofa, hoping she’ll ignore me from here on in.
‘Where are you staying?’ Charlie asks, back to making courteous small talk. He picks up the remote control and turns the volume down on the TV, not quite muting the ludicrously enthusiastic and eccentrically dressed man doing something bizarre with an egg carton.
‘A B&B in Padstow. It’s cheap and cheerful. My bus leaves early in the morning.’
‘You’re only here for one day?’ He seems surprised.
‘Yes, but… Obviously I can come back if…’ He looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to complete my sentence. ‘If I get the job,’ I finish awkwardly.
‘Oh.’ He averts his gaze and takes a small sip of his tea. ‘Fay said you’re a travel writer.’
‘That’s right.’ I smile with relief. This territory I can talk about for hours. ‘My mum works on a cruise liner so I grew up seeing the world in my school holidays.’
‘Bet that was an interesting childhood.’
‘It was. I lived with my dad during the term, but we visited Mum pretty regularly.’ He nods, listening. He doesn’t ask any more questions, so I carry on pitching myself to him. ‘I used to write about the places that I saw, then I built my own website and eventually started to pester magazine and newspaper editors for work. I can pretty much get work writing about anywhere, these days.’
‘That would’ve been Nicki’s dream job,’ Charlie says with a fond smile.Nicki, not Nicole, I note. ‘Before she got a book deal,’ he adds.
And before her life was cruelly stolen from her.
He breaks the long, awkward silence. ‘So you liked her novel?’
‘Ilovedit!’
He smiles properly now, a smile full of pride, but its light reaches his eyes only briefly.
