We promised that we would. We shut the door behind her.
And then she really was gone.
“Aroou?” said Spud, somewhat anxiously, as we walked back into a suddenly much emptier, much quieter house.
* * *
I followed Oliver into the living room, where he was looking round like he didn’t recognise it.
“You know,” he said, “I can’t remember the last time we hoovered behind the sofa. We should probably pull it out and—”
Then he shaded his eyes with a hand and burst into tears. Which was almost a relief because it gave me something to do that wasn’t bursting into tears myself. I drew him gently onto the sofa that we definitely weren’t hoovering behind that evening.
He made a slightly futile attempt to wipe his eyes. “S-sorry.”
“Yeah,” I told him. “How dare you express emotion.”
“Well, this is a little undignified.”
“Fuck dignity, Oliver. Our kid just left.”
“With her mother. Which is the right thing for her.”
I knew Oliver would have a handkerchief, even if he’d temporarily forgotten. I took it out of his pocket and gave it to him. “Things can be right and still suck.”
“I know. But it’s particularly complicated when the right sucky thing is a right sucky thing you’ve been working to make happen for two years. And then it finally happens, and it feels a lot suckier than it does right.”
“Is it possible,” I asked, “you’re overthinking and actually we’re both just sad?”
He shot me a teary look. “And you’re not… I know how you… You don’t think it’s my fault she’s gone?”
“What? No. Where is this coming from?”
“I suppose I’m just aware that if I’d let things be, she’d probably have stayed until she was eighteen.”
“Or she might not have. Anything could have happened.”
“I still might have expedited something that—”
“Oliver.” I kissed him in anI love you but shut upway. “Stop. Everyone in this situation was a grown-up. Well, everyone except Jaz. Well, everyone except Jaz and Spud.”
“Ruff,” agreed Spud, who was sitting at Oliver’s feet, giving dog comfort.
“Maisie wanted her daughter back. Jaz wanted her mum back. You helped make that happen. And I love you for helping make that happen. Even if…” I sighed. “We’re both hurting because of it.”
Oliver closed his eyes for a moment. “Sorry,” he said again. “Not for the emotions. For…for being silly.”
“Eh.” I waved that away. “I like it when you’re silly. Makes me feel useful.”
He managed a watery smile. “There are more important things in a relationship than being useful. You taught me that.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got those things nailed.”
“You do,” he agreed, clearly meaning something totally different and a lot more flattering. He half turned towards me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Lucien.”
“More hoovering, probably?”
“Actually, we should probably dust the top of the television as well.”
