to be different.
‘Well the bedroom bit is tricky, but why don’t you invite one of her friends here for lunch, a picnic, just a play in the garden?’
‘The surgery doesn’t have a garden,’ he gazed across the green, not really seeing it, ‘and the flat is cramped, that’s why I’ve let her go and visit friends. It’s easier. It’s not helping her make a home here though if I keep letting her go back there, is it?’
‘Nope. She seems more unsettled than unhappy though, she gets on with the kids in her class and once we’re past the initial half hour she’s fine.’
‘She’s not fine at home. She doesn’t cry, she just looks at me, sad as though I’ve let her down.’
‘You’ve not let her down, it’s just different. The summer was a big adventure, something new, but in her head she probably thought that everything would go back to how it was at the end of the holidays.’
‘She was always so happy. That’s the worst bit, she was always smiling, giggly, and now she always looks wary, unsure. Unhappy.’
‘It’s not just the move, Charlie. She’s getting older too, she’s not that chubby toddler any longer. School is more demanding, she’s starting to question things.’
‘You’re telling me. She asked why Roo couldn’t sleep in her room and I couldn’t think of an answer, especially when she said she was lonely.’
Lucy grinned. ‘You let him?’
‘I said he could, in his basket though.’
‘And?’
‘He was on her bed when I checked on her. They were curled up together, the dog was fast asleep, and she was drowsy but clinging on.’
‘She just needs to feel secure, Charlie.’
‘And only the dog does that for her.’ He gave a wry smile.
‘You know that’s not true. But Roo’s a warm, living, breathing friend to fall asleep with. My dog was my best friend when I was her age.’
‘I know.’ He took her warm hand in his, threaded his fingers through her slender ones. ‘I wish it had been easier for you.’ He’d been lucky, the perfect childhood surrounded by animals, fields and two loving parents – unlike Lucy, who he knew had faced disruption and the feeling that she’d been abandoned. She’d got through it, but he didn’t want the same for his own daughter. He wanted her to be happy.
‘It was fine.’ Her tone was light. ‘But I get how it feels for Maisie right now.’
‘I know.’ He looked straight into her clear blue eyes. ‘I’m not giving up, but our whole living arrangements, everything, is a mess.’ That much at least had occurred to him, and it was something he had the power to change. ‘I can’t run a busy surgery, and look after a child properly,’ he paused and looked at her, ‘on my own. I feel so bloody guilty every time I have to rush off.’
Lucy smiled. ‘Guilt’s an important part of being a parent.’
He shook his head. ‘Very funny. It’s not fair on either of us though. I don’t want her pushed from pillar to post while I’m working, or left to play on her own.’
‘No,’ she squeezed his hand. ‘She’s too young. When I was her age I hated it.’
‘Is that how it was when you and your mum moved?’
‘It is. I was a couple of years older than Maisie, but I’d been used to having Mum around. I felt,’ she paused, ‘abandoned.’
He stared back bleakly. That was the last thing he wanted Maisie to feel.
‘I mean, it is a bit different for Maisie, because Mum had always been at home for me, she didn’t work after I was born, until …’
‘You moved?’
She nodded. ‘Maisie’s used to you and Josie working, isn’t she? What did you do before?’
‘Her old primary school was part of an academy trust, they had after school clubs, breakfast clubs, it was a big set up. It’s different in Langtry Meadows.’
‘Back at Starbaston, the last school I taught at, they had much the same. But she’s used to doing that, so why not get somebody to help you out? It’s not admitting failure, everybody does it. There must be somebody in the village who’d be glad of a few extra pennies. Somebody with kids?’
Why hadn’t he thought of that? Why had he decided that looking after Maisie was totally his responsibility, that he owed it to her to try and do it all by himself?
‘Oh God, you know what? I’ve been an idiot haven’t I? I’ve been as guilty as Maisie of treating this as an extension of the holidays, and not looking at this long term. No wonder she’s not settled.’
They both stared into their drinks for inspiration.
‘What about Becky?’
‘Sorry?’ The name didn’t immediately ring a bell with him.
‘Becky, the teacher I took over from. I mean she’s not bothered about money, but I’m pretty sure she’d be glad of a break from just looking after her baby, and she’d be brilliant with Maisie, and I bet Maisie would love helping with the baby. Children her age like to help with little ones.’
‘But,’ he hesitated, ‘I don’t want it to look like I’m copping out, that I can’t cope.’ That was still his problem. He’d failed on his own life, failed in his marriage. If he failed on this, he could lose his daughter for ever. ‘I need to prove that I can look after her. I got this.’ He pulled the copy of the email out of his pocket and handed it over. This was what it came down to. One short email.
Lucy smoothed the paper out, not looking at it. ‘But letting people help is looking after her Charlie. Nobody is expected to do it on their own, and you’re doing your best.’
‘I know, but read it. It’s from Josie. She wants a divorce.’
Lucy sobered up, and picked up the piece of paper, which from the look of it he’d been folding and unfolding as though he didn’t know quite what to do with it.
She’d been feeling on a bit of a high at the end of the school day after the Ofsted team had left and had missed Charlie’s agitation when he’d first arrived, but now it was evident. He looked worn out, his face tinged grey. And she was pretty sure it wasn’t just the normal ups and downs of being a parent. Whatever he said, Charlie was made of sterner stuff. He’d never let his daughter down if he could help it.
‘I’m worried, Lucy. It’s not the actual divorce, that’ll be a relief in a way, but she’s playing games again over Maisie. I thought we’d got a truce, that we’d worked a solution out. You know, that when she comes back to the UK she’d get a place nearby and Maisie wouldn’t have to be uprooted again. We’d share the arrangements.’ He ran his fingers through his hair in the agitated way that was so familiar to her. She put a hand over his, but the ache of dread inside her grew. This was what had been worrying her, eating away inside her. But she had to
