answers. Licking my lips, I went in for another drag of the sweet, sickly chocolate drink. I turned to look out the window and pulled a face. Milkshakes were not my thing. I had thought it was what all eight-year-old girls liked doing – eating junk food and visiting Claire’s jewellery shop.
‘You don’t like it, do you, Mummy?’ Amy asked me and nodded toward the milkshake.
I smiled – caught out. ‘Not really. What about you?’
Amy revealed the first small smile of the day. ‘No.’ She looked down at her lap. ‘I don’t like milkshakes. Daddy knows I don’t like milkshakes.’
‘I just thought –’
Amy looked up. ‘It’s OK, Mummy. You don’t live with me so only Daddy knows.’
I felt the familiar stab of guilt. ‘Right, yes.’ I picked up the menu. ‘What would you prefer?’ I needed to face it; I was out of touch.
‘I’m not hungry. Daddy made me pancakes for breakfast.’ She slid down further in her seat. ‘When did Daddy say we should go home? To Daddy’s home.’
My face fell. ‘Um, he said four o’clock.’ I looked at my watch, tapped its face three times. I hoped Amy hadn’t noticed. ‘It’s only two-thirty. Do you want to head back?’ I said cheerily; too cheerily. I mean, was the day going so badly that my daughter wanted to return home to her father already?
‘No …’ She fought tears. ‘I wish we were a family again, like my friends at school have.’
‘I know, but you’re no different to anyone else. You know that, right?’
She gave a small nod. ‘I guess. My bestest friend said she wanted her parents to split up.’
‘Really?’ I said, raising my eyebrows.
‘Yeah, because she thinks it’s nice to get two of everything.’ She paused. ‘I told her it’s not nice.’
I frowned and, desperate to keep her happy, I offered, ‘Shall we play I-spy?’
She pulled a face. ‘Mummy, you’re not very good at this game.’
‘Shame.’ I shrugged my shoulders and looked away. ‘Because I’ve already come up with one.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Okkaaay.’
I grinned. ‘I spy something beginning with B.’
Amy looked behind her, swivelling in her seat. ‘Burger?’
I shook my head.
She furrowed her brows. ‘Book?’
I shook my head again.
‘Are you playing it right?’
I nodded.
She scanned the restaurant another time, spotting a young girl playing with a doll. ‘Barbie!’
‘Nope.’
She giggled. ‘Mummy, are you sure you’re playing properly?’
‘Uh-huh.’ I smiled. ‘Shall I tell you?’
‘OK.’
‘Big nose.’
‘Mummy!’ She squealed with laughter. ‘That’s silly.’
‘Oh, really?’ I played innocent. ‘Your turn.’
She giggled. ‘OK.’ Her eyes flicked around the room and she twisted in her seat, looked behind her, and then she said, ‘S.’
‘S?’
‘Yup.’ She nodded happily. ‘Go quicker. It moves.’
‘Uh-oh.’ I looked around the restaurant, my eyes skimming the counter. ‘Sugar?’
‘Sugar!’ She shook her head firmly. ‘No.’
‘Skirt.’
‘It’s not moving!’
‘It does if the person who’s wearing it moves.’
‘No.’
‘Hmm.’ I shrugged. ‘Give in.’
She pointed outside. ‘Stranger. That lady’s been staring at us for ages.’
‘You never told me we could name things outside too!’
Amy dropped her head into her arms on the table, in fits of giggles. ‘My rules.’ She looked up, laughing. ‘The lady’s gone now.’
I shook my head. ‘Stranger, huh?’ I smiled. ‘That was too good.’
‘Yeah,’ Amy nodded, ‘she was looking at you.’
‘Really?’ I turned my head and looked up and down the high street. ‘She was probably just waiting for someone, or thought I was somebody else.’
I sat forward again, tapped the edge of the table three times, as Amy started scrabbling around in her Peppa Pig canvas bag. ‘I made something for you.’ She drew out a piece of A4 card folded in two and handed it to me. The front was covered in glitter and beads.
I opened it, my hands trembling slightly. Inside it read: I love you, Mummy. My vision blurred over with tears and I brushed them away with the back of my hand. ‘Ames, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much.’ I pushed down the lump in my throat. ‘Did you make it at school?’
She shook her head. ‘No, last Tuesday. With Daddy.’
‘Really? With Daddy?’
‘I felt sad and Daddy said we could play art time.’ She stumbled over her next words. ‘S-so, I made you a card.’
I sighed and put my hand out across the table. ‘Ames.’
She didn’t give me hers and instead traced the outline of Peppa Pig with her forefinger.
‘Well,’ I said, changing the subject and withdrawing my hand, ‘are you looking forward to October? Going to the fair? For my birthday?’ I smiled. ‘That’s only a month away.’
She nodded glumly. ‘I want to go to Claire’s now.’
I put my hand up and signalled to the waitress for the bill. ‘Do you know what you want?’
Amy smiled. ‘A pink bracelet with a star on it. Frannie from school says it makes dreams come true.’
‘That does sound good.’ I leant in and put my card on the table. ‘Are you allowed to tell me your dreams? I know I’m not meant to ask.’
‘That you and Daddy aren’t cross at each other,’ she said simply.
