Eunice wasn’t exactly fragrant. On the contrary, she exuded a peculiarly cheesy odor, which James suspected was emanating from her feet. But what could he do, when she was allowing him these two precious hours of freedom?
Just then, Eunice herself came bustling in from the kitchen. “The popcorn is made,” she said. “Will we let Daddy get off?”
Charlie buried her head in James’s chest. “Don’t want popcorn,” she mumbled.
“Now stop that,” James said firmly, taking her shoulders and holding her out from him. “Have some manners. Eunice is being very kind to you. Come on now,” he added coaxingly, “be nice. Tell you what,” he went on, inspiration striking, “I’ll phone you at the break and tell you a story.” The break should roughly coincide with her bedtime—and would surely last ten minutes.
Charlie looked doubtfully at him. “Not a old story.”
“No—this one will be brand-new.”
“With a princess. And a pony.”
James got up from the sofa. “Princess and pony, got you. And you have to promise to go straight to bed for Eunice afterwards. Deal?”
She considered. “Okay.”
“Good girl. Now I need you to find my car keys.”
As she left the room James turned to Eunice. “Thanks again for doing this. I hope she’ll be okay for you. She’s been…a bit clingy since we moved down here.”
Eunice nodded. “Of course she has—and all the more reason for you to get a little break. Don’t you worry about us, we’ll be fine.”
James wondered what Eunice and Gerry had made of a man moving into the area with a small daughter and no sign of a partner. He’d made no mention of Frances to them, and thankfully they hadn’t asked—assuming, probably, that he was either widowed or divorced. Eunice had offered to babysit before James had even considered going out in the evenings. Feeling sorry for the lone father, no doubt.
“Tuesdays would suit best,” she’d told him, “since it’s Gerry’s night for cards with the boys down at the local. I’m sure you could join them, if you were interested.”
James could imagine Eunice cajoling her husband to take the newcomer along to meet the boys. He wondered how long his past would remain a secret in the company of card-playing drinkers. And what he’d seen of the local, with its graffiti-covered walls and huddle of tough-looking smokers in the doorway, didn’t encourage closer acquaintance.
“I’m not much of a one for cards,” he’d lied, “but thanks for the offer. I’ll keep it in mind.”
And the more he thought about it, the more he longed for one evening away from the demands a six-year-old could put on you. He loved his daughter dearly, but having sole responsibility for her from five o’clock each weekday, and all weekend, was extremely challenging.
When Frances was there, it had been so much easier. The care of Charlie had been shared between them during the week, and Maud and Timothy, less than forty miles away, were happy to take their only grandchild for at least part of each weekend. James adored his only daughter, but like any parent he appreciated the breaks from her too.
And now her mother was gone, and her father had made a decision that had put real distance between Charlie and her grandparents, and the only break he got apart from work was the once-a-month visit to Maud and Timothy’s for Sunday lunch.
James had been uncertain when they’d suggested it. The events of two years ago had prompted a seismic change in the relationship between him and his parents-in-law that didn’t surprise him in the least. Their lives had been upturned, their happiness snatched away in a single afternoon, and they had no way of knowing if James was responsible.
The case was still open, with nobody having been charged, or even arrested—for without any evidence, with no proof that any crime had even taken place, how could any arrest be made? James imagined what awful mixed feelings Maud and Timothy must have, how
Just then, Eunice herself came bustling in from the kitchen. “The popcorn is made,” she said. “Will we let Daddy get off?”
Charlie buried her head in James’s chest. “Don’t want popcorn,” she mumbled.
“Now stop that,” James said firmly, taking her shoulders and holding her out from him. “Have some manners. Eunice is being very kind to you. Come on now,” he added coaxingly, “be nice. Tell you what,” he went on, inspiration striking, “I’ll phone you at the break and tell you a story.” The break should roughly coincide with her bedtime—and would surely last ten minutes.
Charlie looked doubtfully at him. “Not a old story.”
“No—this one will be brand-new.”
“With a princess. And a pony.”
James got up from the sofa. “Princess and pony, got you. And you have to promise to go straight to bed for Eunice afterwards. Deal?”
She considered. “Okay.”
“Good girl. Now I need you to find my car keys.”
As she left the room James turned to Eunice. “Thanks again for doing this. I hope she’ll be okay for you. She’s been…a bit clingy since we moved down here.”
Eunice nodded. “Of course she has—and all the more reason for you to get a little break. Don’t you worry about us, we’ll be fine.”
James wondered what Eunice and Gerry had made of a man moving into the area with a small daughter and no sign of a partner. He’d made no mention of Frances to them, and thankfully they hadn’t asked—assuming, probably, that he was either widowed or divorced. Eunice had offered to babysit before James had even considered going out in the evenings. Feeling sorry for the lone father, no doubt.
“Tuesdays would suit best,” she’d told him, “since it’s Gerry’s night for cards with the boys down at the local. I’m sure you could join them, if you were interested.”
James could imagine Eunice cajoling her husband to take the newcomer along to meet the boys. He wondered how long his past would remain a secret in the company of card-playing drinkers. And what he’d seen of the local, with its graffiti-covered walls and huddle of tough-looking smokers in the doorway, didn’t encourage closer acquaintance.
“I’m not much of a one for cards,” he’d lied, “but thanks for the offer. I’ll keep it in mind.”
And the more he thought about it, the more he longed for one evening away from the demands a six-year-old could put on you. He loved his daughter dearly, but having sole responsibility for her from five o’clock each weekday, and all weekend, was extremely challenging.
When Frances was there, it had been so much easier. The care of Charlie had been shared between them during the week, and Maud and Timothy, less than forty miles away, were happy to take their only grandchild for at least part of each weekend. James adored his only daughter, but like any parent he appreciated the breaks from her too.
And now her mother was gone, and her father had made a decision that had put real distance between Charlie and her grandparents, and the only break he got apart from work was the once-a-month visit to Maud and Timothy’s for Sunday lunch.
James had been uncertain when they’d suggested it. The events of two years ago had prompted a seismic change in the relationship between him and his parents-in-law that didn’t surprise him in the least. Their lives had been upturned, their happiness snatched away in a single afternoon, and they had no way of knowing if James was responsible.
The case was still open, with nobody having been charged, or even arrested—for without any evidence, with no proof that any crime had even taken place, how could any arrest be made? James imagined what awful mixed feelings Maud and Timothy must have, how
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