He closed his eyes for a second, as though he could erase the last twelve hours by sheer will.
"Matilda called this morning," he began, his tone low and careful. "I was heading into the office to catch up on some paperwork before I picked Coral up at twelve. You know she had that one-to-one with the speech team today. Then we were going to head for the beach."
Fern nodded faintly. They'd talked about it last night—how Coral was catching up so quickly, how proud they were that she'd started to string full sentences together.
They'd both agreed that she needed more time with other children. That it would help her before she started reception in September.
"I know. I know." His voice was unsteady as he admitted it. "I was supposed to get her, but Matilda rang—said she had this interview, and she didn't have anyone to take Jacob to his football match. She sounded desperate, Fern. I didn't want to let Jacob down."
Her head came up slowly, eyes red but piercing. "No, Connor. You didn't want to letherdown."
He swallowed hard but continued, "I asked Mum to pick Coral up instead. I thought—"
"You thought wrong," she said sharply. "Youalwaysthink wrong when it comes to her."
Connor's mouth opened, then closed again. There was no excuse that didn't sound pathetic in the face of what had happened.
He knew this wasn't the first time, though it was the worst.
Fern leaned back, staring at him as if she couldn't quite believe he was real. "I see your mouth moving and only bullshit comes out. You left our daughter in the care of your mother—your mother who feels Coral is disabled andless—andsheleft her with Matilda like an unwanted parcel. That fucking woman's been like a ghost in our house since we moved back here. She hates me; she hates Coral, just like your mom. And I loathe her. She has been using... No, don't you interrupt, you bastard son of a bitch. Horace was beside himself, and he said he could smell weed on your precious Maddy when he tried to ask her what happened. A teenage boy has more sense in his little finger than you in your entire body."
He dragged a hand down his face, looking older than twenty-eight. "I didn't know she'd been using again until today. I swear, Fern. Shetold me she'd been clean for months. And I swear to ya, I never meant for Coral to be near her. Mom was supposed to pick her up."
Fern laughed, but it was hollow, without humour. She didn’t want to hear any more of this. "I am twenty-six not five, Connor. Matilda can tell you the sky is purple, and you would believe it. You always believe her over your own wife. You always find a reason to go running when she so much asbreathesin your direction."
"She's just a friend," he said desperately.
"She is not just a friend. She is your ex, though I am no longer sure if the relationship is in the past or ongoing. And not one of you are going to get away with this when I talk to child safeguarding tomorrow," she snapped.
Chapter 6
Connor opened his mouth, the beginnings of a tangled apology forming, even as he grappled with what to say.
Not for the first time in the years he had known her, he wondered with regret why he had kept his messy past from her.
He should have just told her straight on that he hadn't just come back to Whitley Bay because his mother had mentioned that she was struggling with her health. He should have explained that he'd thought returning home might somehow patch old wounds, not tear his life apart.
He wanted to tell her why he kept helping Matilda—how guilt and shame had turned into a habit that had snowballed, how his mother had only added to the fire. How he'd deluded himself that he would always have Fern and Coraline, even while his relationship with his wife and child withered like a neglected sapling trapped in darkness.
He wanted to say he'd thought Matilda was fine but had chosen not to look too closely because that was what he owed her for her silence. Because facing it meant facing everything—his past, his mother's secrets, the guilt he'd carried since he was seventeen and too scared to stay and face the music. He was twenty-eight now but Coral had more sense than he did.
The words pressed against his throat, desperate to be freed.
"Fern, I—"
She abruptly raised her hand, palm out. Fern, who had moved away from her beloved father and entire support group just for him and hadstood by him while he had been failing as a father and a husband, froze him mid-breath.
Her delicate fingers trembled slightly, but her bright eyes pinned him like a moth on a corkboard. "Don't," she whispered, her voice hoarse with pain.
Whatever confession had gathered in his chest had dissolved into the thick hospital air.
"I need to get back to my daughter, so let’s make this quick,” she croaked.
She stood slowly, her breathing controlled again—one measured inhale followed by one ragged exhale. "You know… your child," she added, her voice rising with every word. "The one with second-degree burns, who might need skin grafts. The one who is possibly scarred for life at four years of age, you absolute loafer bastard. Even an anonymous sperm donor would be more concerned. And I can see the wheels turning in your head, wondering what excuse would calm me down. Not this time, fucker."
She was shouting towards the end. Connor swallowed, the unsaid apology still burning in his throat.
"I was lucky they let me near her," Fern went on, her voice tight with rage. "The safeguarding officer believed me when I said I didn't know she was with Matilda. That I wasn't the twat who left her there. That was your dear old responsible mum. Trust me, this is the one and only time those two get close to my daughter in this lifetime. I had a lot to say to the police officer after I finally got through to your mum to find out what happened. Bet she didn’t tell you that, did she?"
