being a lesbian.
*
Two walls and twelve sausages later, they waved goodbye to Rob and Kath and he wondered whether he should tell Hattie that her mother had rung that morning. He alwaystold her about any contact, believing it was her right to know. But the timing was crucial. Too near bedtime and he was afraid she’d lie awake in the dark.
No, not tonight, it was too late. And he couldn’t tell her in the rush and tumble of the morning and then leave her at school to think about it on her own.
Whenever that conversation was going to take place, he wasn’t looking forward to it. He knew how unsettling it was for Hattie to have Steph zoom in and out of her life and then disappear as if she’d been abducted by aliens.
Sometimes miracles did happen, though. Like on Hattie’s first day of school, a phone call from Morocco and all the right things said. Easter, when Steph had arranged to Skype her. And actually done it.
He walked around the garden, packing away the chairs while Hattie had a few more minutes in the tree house.
It was the bats swooping and darting now and, at times like this, he was glad they were the end house in the row, with nothing between them and the fields.
‘Come on now,’ he shouted to Hattie. ‘No arguing.’
While she had her bath, he sat on the stool and she made a beard out of bubbles and they chatted about Josh, her best friend in the world, and how hot water came out of taps. He felt a drawing sadness that one day the bathroom door would be closed on him. Even now, it was probably moreacceptable to say you owned a sub-machine gun than admit that the favourite part of your day was sitting chatting to your daughter while she had a good soak.
When she got out, he wrapped her in a towel as if she was something precious. Definitely not a parcel.
‘Put your pyjamas on, choose a story and I’ll go and get you some water.’
‘And Gummy.’
Yeah, the little bugger . ‘And Gummy.’
Downstairs he filled up a cup with water, but could not find Gummy in Hattie’s reading bag. He saw it had fallen under the table and when he reached for it, cracked his head on the wood. By the time he’d stopped cursing and was aware the phone was ringing, he was also aware that Hattie had padded into his bedroom and picked it up in there.
‘Mummy!’ he heard her say and the happy glow of the evening went fizzle, phut. Two phone calls in one day? Damn, he just knew what was coming now.
He went up the stairs softly and stood outside his bedroom door, hating being an eavesdropper, but unable to stop himself.
Hattie was talking fast about the tree house and he imagined her face, alight with the fact that Steph had rung. There was an expanse of silence, he could hear his own breathing in it. Then, ‘Yes, it was lovely, Mummy. And thebag.’ Good girl. More silence and his stomach tightened. Hattie getting more excited, ‘Yes, yes! Please. Will it be deep snow? Do they have reindeer?’
Steph hadn’t got him to agree, so had brought in the heaviest gun of all on her side.
More gabbling from Hattie before, ‘Nun-night. I love you too. Bye, Mummy. Bye.’
It felt as if his heart was being scrunched up by the longing in that ‘bye’.
The door swung back and there was Hattie, face like it was Christmas already. ‘Dad, Dad! I’m going to Italy. Mummy says I can. We’re going skiing.’
*
Lying on his side on the sofa later, he felt almost too weary to raise the bottle of lager to his lips. Bloody Steph. She’d come out of this looking fantastic and he was the villain for nipping all that joy in the bud.
He had a tear-stained five-year-old lying upstairs in her bed, clutching her gum shield. Or more likely lying with it defiantly in her mouth.
They had argued—
‘But why can’t I go?’
‘Because I want to be there and Mummy doesn’t like that.’
‘But I could go on my own. Mummy said you could put me on the plane.’
‘No. You’re too young.’
‘Mummy says I’m not too
*
Two walls and twelve sausages later, they waved goodbye to Rob and Kath and he wondered whether he should tell Hattie that her mother had rung that morning. He alwaystold her about any contact, believing it was her right to know. But the timing was crucial. Too near bedtime and he was afraid she’d lie awake in the dark.
No, not tonight, it was too late. And he couldn’t tell her in the rush and tumble of the morning and then leave her at school to think about it on her own.
Whenever that conversation was going to take place, he wasn’t looking forward to it. He knew how unsettling it was for Hattie to have Steph zoom in and out of her life and then disappear as if she’d been abducted by aliens.
Sometimes miracles did happen, though. Like on Hattie’s first day of school, a phone call from Morocco and all the right things said. Easter, when Steph had arranged to Skype her. And actually done it.
He walked around the garden, packing away the chairs while Hattie had a few more minutes in the tree house.
It was the bats swooping and darting now and, at times like this, he was glad they were the end house in the row, with nothing between them and the fields.
‘Come on now,’ he shouted to Hattie. ‘No arguing.’
While she had her bath, he sat on the stool and she made a beard out of bubbles and they chatted about Josh, her best friend in the world, and how hot water came out of taps. He felt a drawing sadness that one day the bathroom door would be closed on him. Even now, it was probably moreacceptable to say you owned a sub-machine gun than admit that the favourite part of your day was sitting chatting to your daughter while she had a good soak.
When she got out, he wrapped her in a towel as if she was something precious. Definitely not a parcel.
‘Put your pyjamas on, choose a story and I’ll go and get you some water.’
‘And Gummy.’
Yeah, the little bugger . ‘And Gummy.’
Downstairs he filled up a cup with water, but could not find Gummy in Hattie’s reading bag. He saw it had fallen under the table and when he reached for it, cracked his head on the wood. By the time he’d stopped cursing and was aware the phone was ringing, he was also aware that Hattie had padded into his bedroom and picked it up in there.
‘Mummy!’ he heard her say and the happy glow of the evening went fizzle, phut. Two phone calls in one day? Damn, he just knew what was coming now.
He went up the stairs softly and stood outside his bedroom door, hating being an eavesdropper, but unable to stop himself.
Hattie was talking fast about the tree house and he imagined her face, alight with the fact that Steph had rung. There was an expanse of silence, he could hear his own breathing in it. Then, ‘Yes, it was lovely, Mummy. And thebag.’ Good girl. More silence and his stomach tightened. Hattie getting more excited, ‘Yes, yes! Please. Will it be deep snow? Do they have reindeer?’
Steph hadn’t got him to agree, so had brought in the heaviest gun of all on her side.
More gabbling from Hattie before, ‘Nun-night. I love you too. Bye, Mummy. Bye.’
It felt as if his heart was being scrunched up by the longing in that ‘bye’.
The door swung back and there was Hattie, face like it was Christmas already. ‘Dad, Dad! I’m going to Italy. Mummy says I can. We’re going skiing.’
*
Lying on his side on the sofa later, he felt almost too weary to raise the bottle of lager to his lips. Bloody Steph. She’d come out of this looking fantastic and he was the villain for nipping all that joy in the bud.
He had a tear-stained five-year-old lying upstairs in her bed, clutching her gum shield. Or more likely lying with it defiantly in her mouth.
They had argued—
‘But why can’t I go?’
‘Because I want to be there and Mummy doesn’t like that.’
‘But I could go on my own. Mummy said you could put me on the plane.’
‘No. You’re too young.’
‘Mummy says I’m not too
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