"No," he said at last, voice hoarse. "I won't stop you. I'd never... " His throat closed. He swallowed hard and forced the words out. "We will do whatever it takes to protect Coral. I am with you every step of the way."
She stared at him for a long moment, as if testing for cracks in his resolve. Then she nodded once.
"We'd better get home," he said. "Your dad must be wondering where we are."
"And you?" she asked. "Where will you be sleeping tonight?"
He didn't have an answer. The motel, maybe. Joe's sofa, if his mate didn’t kick him out. Anywhere that wasn't the house he'd already poisoned.
Fern reached into her bag again, slid a letter free and held it out. "I got this email yesterday," she said.
He recognised the logo before he took it. The primary school crest, the address in Sale. They had planned for Coral to go there before they... before he decided they needed to move. His stomach sank as he skimmed the text.
"We're pleased to offer Coraline Ashbourne a place in Reception class... "
He gulped. "Sale."
"Yes." She folded her hands together on the table. "Near my dad. The school's got good support for additional needs. Smaller classes. They know about her speech delay."
"And you're... you're leaving? So soon?"
"There is no point in dragging this out," she said. "I need to think about what would be best for Coral. You can see her whenever you want—I'm not trying to cut you out—but I can't keep her in this toxic place."
He closed his eyes. The words of the letter blurred with the paternity report in his mind. Not the father. New school. New home. A whole new life he'd broken himself out of.
"This is for the best," he said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. "It's... safer."
"For her, yes," Fern said. "For me, too."
He didn't argue.
Chapter 23
By the time the car pulled into the driveway, dusk had settled, painting the street in soft grey light. Their house looked ordinary from the outside—red brick, white windows, the same daft gnome Fern's dad had gifted them by the front step. Nothing to suggest that the cracks were widening.
The moment Fern opened the door, the sound of Coral's chortles spilled down the hallway. There was the pitter-patter of tiny feet, and a small weight hurtled into Fern's legs before she'd even taken her shoes off.
"Mummy! Gappa an' me made a tower."
Fern marvelled at how she was stringing sentences together now. Her vocabulary seemed to have improved in leaps and bounds after the time in the hospital. Harlan appeared in the doorway behind her, hands dusted with flour. "I swear I turned my back for two flipping minutes, and she'd built a castle on the coffee table," he said, smiling. Then he looked at their faces, and the smile faded. "You all right, love?"
"Later," Fern said softly. "We'll talk later."
His gaze flicked to the envelope still crumpled in Connor's hand, then to Connor's pallor, and he masterfully suppressed his curiosity. Fern's dad could extract a secret from a stone. "Right," he said briskly. "Come on, Coraline. Let's give Mummy and Da a minute. Show me how high you made that tower."
Coral grabbed her fallen Lego blocks with a solemn nod and padded back to the living room. Holding her right hand carefully had become a habit. Harlan followed, throwing Fern a look over her shoulder that promised questions and cups of tea and tissues when the time came.
Connor hovered just outside the door, unsure of his welcome but desperate to stay. Fern sighed and stepped aside to let Connor pass. He hovered in the hall, looking rumpled and strange in his own home.
"I'll... help with dinner," he said, after a beat. "You've... you've got work to catch up on."
She had, technically: reports, emails, the endless admin that never stopped. But right now, the thought of facing a screen made her want to curl up and die.
"Sure," she said instead, her shoulders dipping. "Thanks."
He nodded, almost grateful, and headed for the kitchen. She heard the familiar sounds of cupboards opening, the fridge door, the clatter of pans. Once, those noises had meant comfort, with Connor whistling off-key, wrangling pasta and sauce while Coral lined up her plastic animals on the table.
Now they only made the sorrow in her heart rise like an unstoppable wave. It felt like the slow death of a dream.
