Read Online A Very Accidental Love Story by Claudia Carroll - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Claudia Carroll
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in a tiny voice, throat completely dried up now, dreading the answer.
‘From what I can gather, Lily stoutly told him that yes she did have a dad and that one day he’d come for her. This is when Tim provoked her, calling her a liar and saying that everyone else in class had a dad, bar her. So then Lily lashed out at him; kicking, screaming, punching, the whole works. It really was the most awful scene and deeply distressing for the other children to witness. Now in Lily’s defence, Tim’s behaviour was also completely out of line. He absolutely should not have carried on the way he did, but believe me, his parents have been notified about this incident as well. Bad behaviour of any kind isn’t tolerated here.’
I’m too dazed by what I’ve just heard to even bring myself to answer her. The words Lily used keep floating back to me. That she did have a dad and that one day he’ll come for her. Is that really what’s been going through her little mind?
And for how long, I wonder?
Suddenly I’m now finding it hard to breathe, my chest is that tight and constrained. This actually feels like taking a bullet. The same sharp, sudden, hot, searing flash of deep, flesh-ripping pain.
Because never before has Lily even asked me about her father; not once, ever. Maybe because she’s been so shielded ever since she was born, always at home or else with a nanny; it’s only since she began at preschool that she must suddenly be aware that other kids have two parents coming in to drop them off and then collect them later on. Something that she so obviously doesn’t. And what does my little girl have instead? A mother she only sees properly one day a week and Elka, one in a steady stream of nannies, who’s now about to desert her in just a few days’ time.
I do have a dad and one day he’ll come for me.
I can almost hear her little singsong, baby voice saying that, proudly, defiantly and the blow it gives me right to the solar plexus is physically making me nauseous.
I knew, of course I knew, that one day I’d have to have the awkward chat with her, that I’d have to tell her why I’m a single mum by choice – I just had no idea that it would creep up on me this fast. And how exactly do I explain to an innocent little child that I never even met her father? That he’s in fact some nameless, faceless Petri dish in an industrial estate out in Sandyford? All I know about him really is the basics; his height, eye colour, hair colour, occupation and IQ. That’s it. And worst of all, that he’s never going to come for her, because how can he? He doesn’t even know of her existence. Or of mine.
Christ alive, what chance has the poor kid got? No father and, judging by the not-too-difficult-to-read subtext of what Miss Pettifer’s telling me, an absentee mother to boot. I look across the desk at her and can almost see a cartoon thought bubble coming out of her brain saying that there are probably undiscovered terrorist cells in the mountains of Afghanistan more nurturing that I am.
The worry swirls round my brain now, dull and nauseating, over and over again. No getting away from it, I am a horrible parent whose child doesn’t even know the truth about her own parentage. A child, to my shame, that I barely see at all. And now my Lily, my little strawberry-blonde angel, is acting like Damien from
The Omen
and taking pot shots at her little classmates for accusing her of not having a dad … Oh God, now the guilt feels exactly like heartburn.
I’m just wiping away tiny beads of worry-sweat, wondering how in hell I’m going to fix this, when Miss Pettifer cuts into my thoughts as if there’s more – worse – to come.
‘So you see why I had to call you in Eloise.’
‘Yes, of course I do, and thank you for letting me know …’
With jelly legs, I make to get out of my chair, but she holds her palm up to stop me.
‘And there’s something else too,’ Miss Pettifer says.
I look dumbly up at her, dreading
‘From what I can gather, Lily stoutly told him that yes she did have a dad and that one day he’d come for her. This is when Tim provoked her, calling her a liar and saying that everyone else in class had a dad, bar her. So then Lily lashed out at him; kicking, screaming, punching, the whole works. It really was the most awful scene and deeply distressing for the other children to witness. Now in Lily’s defence, Tim’s behaviour was also completely out of line. He absolutely should not have carried on the way he did, but believe me, his parents have been notified about this incident as well. Bad behaviour of any kind isn’t tolerated here.’
I’m too dazed by what I’ve just heard to even bring myself to answer her. The words Lily used keep floating back to me. That she did have a dad and that one day he’ll come for her. Is that really what’s been going through her little mind?
And for how long, I wonder?
Suddenly I’m now finding it hard to breathe, my chest is that tight and constrained. This actually feels like taking a bullet. The same sharp, sudden, hot, searing flash of deep, flesh-ripping pain.
Because never before has Lily even asked me about her father; not once, ever. Maybe because she’s been so shielded ever since she was born, always at home or else with a nanny; it’s only since she began at preschool that she must suddenly be aware that other kids have two parents coming in to drop them off and then collect them later on. Something that she so obviously doesn’t. And what does my little girl have instead? A mother she only sees properly one day a week and Elka, one in a steady stream of nannies, who’s now about to desert her in just a few days’ time.
I do have a dad and one day he’ll come for me.
I can almost hear her little singsong, baby voice saying that, proudly, defiantly and the blow it gives me right to the solar plexus is physically making me nauseous.
I knew, of course I knew, that one day I’d have to have the awkward chat with her, that I’d have to tell her why I’m a single mum by choice – I just had no idea that it would creep up on me this fast. And how exactly do I explain to an innocent little child that I never even met her father? That he’s in fact some nameless, faceless Petri dish in an industrial estate out in Sandyford? All I know about him really is the basics; his height, eye colour, hair colour, occupation and IQ. That’s it. And worst of all, that he’s never going to come for her, because how can he? He doesn’t even know of her existence. Or of mine.
Christ alive, what chance has the poor kid got? No father and, judging by the not-too-difficult-to-read subtext of what Miss Pettifer’s telling me, an absentee mother to boot. I look across the desk at her and can almost see a cartoon thought bubble coming out of her brain saying that there are probably undiscovered terrorist cells in the mountains of Afghanistan more nurturing that I am.
The worry swirls round my brain now, dull and nauseating, over and over again. No getting away from it, I am a horrible parent whose child doesn’t even know the truth about her own parentage. A child, to my shame, that I barely see at all. And now my Lily, my little strawberry-blonde angel, is acting like Damien from
The Omen
and taking pot shots at her little classmates for accusing her of not having a dad … Oh God, now the guilt feels exactly like heartburn.
I’m just wiping away tiny beads of worry-sweat, wondering how in hell I’m going to fix this, when Miss Pettifer cuts into my thoughts as if there’s more – worse – to come.
‘So you see why I had to call you in Eloise.’
‘Yes, of course I do, and thank you for letting me know …’
With jelly legs, I make to get out of my chair, but she holds her palm up to stop me.
‘And there’s something else too,’ Miss Pettifer says.
I look dumbly up at her, dreading
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