* *
Nathan stood in the playground, surrounded mostly by mothers waiting for their children to come out of infant school. As always, he felt like a complete fish out of water here. All the mothers stood in little groups, chatting and laughing. They all knew each other. And him...? He was the lone male, feeling awkward. Sure that he was standing out like a sore thumb.
He could feel their eyes on him. Judging him. Assessing him. Were they talking about him? Could they see his awkward gait? His limp? Could they see what was wrong with him? It feels like they can. He almost felt as if he was carrying a huge sign naming his condition around his neck.
Silverdale Infants had seemed the perfect place for Anna when he’d first come to the village for his job interview. He’d scouted the place out and asked the headteacher to give him a tour. He’d walked through the school with her, looking in the classrooms, seeing the happy children and their paintings, listening to them singing in assembly and watching as they’d sat for storytime in their impossibly small chairs. He’d genuinely felt his daughter would be happy there. It had a good vibe. The head was a nice woman and Miss Howarth, Anna’s teacher-to-be, seemed really lovely and welcoming.
Nathan had just had his first day in his new job and this had been Anna’s first day at her new school. He could only hope that it had gone as well as his own day, and that she would come running out with a big smile on her face. Then, perhaps, the lump of anxiety in his stomach would disappear and they’d be able to go home and he’d cook dinner.
Nathan hated being away from Anna. Giving her into the care of someone else. But he had to work and she had to learn—and weren’t schools considered in loco parentis?
He was grateful for the flexible hours his new job afforded him. Since Gwyneth had left them he’d had to become both father and mother to Anna. And he didn’t think he was doing too badly. Anna seemed happy enough, only occasionally asking why she didn’t have a mummy, like other children. Those days were hard. When he could see the hurt in his daughter’s eyes. And when it happened he would curse Gwyneth inwardly, whilst outwardly he would throw everything he had at making his daughter happy.
He just couldn’t give her the mother that she wanted. He wasn’t ready to be with someone new. To open himself up to possible hurt and betrayal. To being left again. And why put Anna through the hope of getting to know someone when they might walk away and break her heart, too?
He didn’t bad-mouth Gwyneth to Anna. It wasn’t up to him to tell Anna how to feel about her mother. Anna might want to find her one day and see her. Talk to her. Ask her things. Did he want Anna to grow up resentful and hating her mother? No. Even if it was hard for him. Because Gwyneth had abandoned them both. And that hurt. Not so much now, but it still caused pain whenever he thought about his and Anna’s future.
He sighed as he thought about his mistake in getting involved with Gwyneth. She’d been so much fun to begin with, but—as was sometimes the way with relationships—they’d both realised something was missing. And then they’d discovered she was pregnant...
Life was short. And he would not have Anna spending hers moping about for a mother who had no interest in her whatsoever. He was only sorry that he hadn’t noticed Gwyneth’s shallowness earlier on. Before he’d got in too deep.
The school bell rang and he braced himself. Now he’d know. Had it gone well?
Crossing his fingers in his jacket pockets, trying not to shiver in the late November cold, he looked for her familiar face amongst the mass of children pouring out through the door, all of them almost identical in their little green jumpers and grey skirts or trousers.
Then he saw her and his heart lifted.
‘Daddy!’
She was smiling. Beaming at him as she ran to his open arms, clutching a painting that was still slightly wet. Nathan scooped her up, hefting her onto his hip, trying not to grimace at the pain in his shoulder.
‘What do we have here?’ He glanced at the painting. There were daubs of brown and green that he guessed was a tree, and to one side was a large black blob with ears. ‘Is that Lottie?’
Anna nodded, grinning, showing the gap where her two front teeth were missing. ‘Yes!’
Lottie was their pet rabbit and his one concession to Anna’s demands to fill their house with pets of all shapes and sizes. Anna adored animals, and ever since she’d started at nursery had plagued him with requests for cats or dogs or parrots or anything that had fur, feathers or a cute face.
Knowing that they would both be out all day—him at work, she at school—he’d not thought a dog or a cat was appropriate, but he’d given in and allowed her a rabbit. It had the added bonus of living outdoors and its presence had stopped Anna from ‘rescuing’ injured insects and bringing them in to be ‘nursed’.
‘It looks just like her.’ He squinted as he saw a small daub of bright orange. ‘Is that a carrot?’
‘No, Daddy. Silly! That’s a worm.’
‘Oh, right.’ He gently placed his daughter back on the ground, being careful not to grimace or wrench himself further. ‘So how did it go? Was it good? Did you make friends?’
She nodded. ‘Lots and lots.’
She proceeded to list them as they walked back to the car. There seemed an awful lot, and to his ears it sounded as if she’d just memorised the register, but he nodded and smiled at her as she told him about Hattie with the bright pink glasses, and George who had held her hand as they’d walked to assembly.
They were soon home. Nathan still had half their life packed away in boxes after the move, but he knew they’d get there eventually. All the important stuff was unpacked. And Anna’s room had everything. He’d done that first. Everything else could wait for when he had the time. He just had to decide where he wanted it all to go.
The house was brand-new, so had none of that old-world character the rest of the cottages in the village had. He had tiles on his roof, not thatch. A modern fake fireplace rather than an old rustic one with real flames. Flat, smooth walls rather than whitewashed ones with crooked oak beams.
Still, the place would get its character eventually.
‘I’m going to see if Lottie missed me.’ Anna ran through the house towards the back door, so she could go into the garden.
‘Not yet, young lady,’ he called after her. ‘Go upstairs and get out of your uniform first.’
‘Daddy, please!’
‘It was raining this morning, Anna. I’m not having you getting your uniform covered in mud and straw. Please go and get changed.’
She pouted, but only briefly, and then she ran back past him, clambering up the stairs as he took their bags through to the kitchen, pinned her painting to the fridge with a magnet that was shaped like a banana. He’d picked up some vegetables from a farm shop, so he popped those in the fridge, then switched on the kettle for a drink.
Upstairs, he heard a small thunk as Anna kicked off her shoes and soon enough she was trotting back down the stairs, wearing a weird combination of purple corduroy skirt, green tee shirt and a rather loud orange and yellow cardigan.
‘Nice... I’m liking your style.’ He was keen to encourage her to
