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Authors: Hazel Osmond
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love you, Hats,’ he said, feeling needy, and got a little squeak back, but when he sat on the bed, she shifted on to her front and pulled the covers up over her head.
Back downstairs he lay down on the floor and cried out the way he felt trapped and manipulated and how someone, with one phone call, could sweep away all that warmth between him and Hattie. It would come back again, but for now he felt miles away from her. Stupid the way the tears went straight from his eyes into his ears.
There was the sound of a text arriving and he wasn’t going to check it, but there was that niggling worry about it being something to do with Kath.
When he looked at the message, he smiled despite the gloom.
Yes please he texted back. Usual day?
He waited for the response before signing off with: Grietje. You’re a bloody lifesaver .
He lay back down and texted Natalie the babysitter. There was always the reserve team of Rob and Kath, but they asked too many questions when he returned home afterwards.
As he took himself off to bed, he thought that he might just forgive Monday because of this late present. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to forgive Steph.
CHAPTER 10
Monday 12 May (Part 3)
Yes, here I am again. And it turns out there is a number 10.
10) It would appear that flinging oneself around and grunting is not a display of aggression, but some kind of courtship ritual. Estate agent has just invited me for a drink tomorrow lunchtime to ‘discuss a possible reduction in the rent’.
10a) (See what I did there?)
Agreeing to have a drink with a man who is probably only going to give you something if you offer him another thing in return, is not necessarily a good thing.
For the man.
CHAPTER 11
Tom got back into the car after dropping Hattie at school feeling that he’d been snapped so rapidly from one emotion to the next, he probably had whiplash.
In bed the night before, he’d lain awake, alert to what was going on in that little brain in the bedroom over the other side of the landing. Then, all of a sudden, that little brain and the body that carried it about were climbing into bed with him. He just let her hunker down next to him and felt pathetically grateful for that. The next thing he knew, the birds were waking him up and he was on the edge of the bed, only the bedside table stopping him from falling on to the floor, while Hattie occupied the rest of the mattress in a horizontal arabesque.
They hadn’t talked much over breakfast. No point in pushing it. But that silence from her was … torturous.
On the journey to school, he had tried to think of something to chat about. He’d had stand-offs with all kinds of people in his life – irate printers, stroppy writers, a coupleof drunk players from an opposing team in a back street in Carlisle, but this was the worst. It made him feel unmanned.
He could only suppose that was because this incident wasn’t about him managing to placate someone enough to get what he wanted (and in the case of Carlisle, not losing his teeth). This time it was about trying to give Hattie what she wanted. But what she wanted was the one thing he couldn’t deliver.
He had parked further away from school than he normally did, hoping that during the walk to the playground, he could think of the right words to prevent them parting with this awful thing wedged between them. But he’d only just taken the key out of the ignition when she said, in an un-Hattie-like voice, ‘Will you ever let me see Mummy again?’
It was as if someone had put their hand flat on his stomach and pushed it as hard as possible towards his backbone. Undoing his seatbelt he had turned quickly and seen that she was really scared of the question she was asking. Not caring that it was a struggle, he had clambered into the back of the car and sat beside her and got hold of her hand.
‘Hattie, sweetheart, please don’t ever think I won’t let you see Mummy. It’s just you’re too young to travel to Italy
Back downstairs he lay down on the floor and cried out the way he felt trapped and manipulated and how someone, with one phone call, could sweep away all that warmth between him and Hattie. It would come back again, but for now he felt miles away from her. Stupid the way the tears went straight from his eyes into his ears.
There was the sound of a text arriving and he wasn’t going to check it, but there was that niggling worry about it being something to do with Kath.
When he looked at the message, he smiled despite the gloom.
Yes please he texted back. Usual day?
He waited for the response before signing off with: Grietje. You’re a bloody lifesaver .
He lay back down and texted Natalie the babysitter. There was always the reserve team of Rob and Kath, but they asked too many questions when he returned home afterwards.
As he took himself off to bed, he thought that he might just forgive Monday because of this late present. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to forgive Steph.
CHAPTER 10
Monday 12 May (Part 3)
Yes, here I am again. And it turns out there is a number 10.
10) It would appear that flinging oneself around and grunting is not a display of aggression, but some kind of courtship ritual. Estate agent has just invited me for a drink tomorrow lunchtime to ‘discuss a possible reduction in the rent’.
10a) (See what I did there?)
Agreeing to have a drink with a man who is probably only going to give you something if you offer him another thing in return, is not necessarily a good thing.
For the man.
CHAPTER 11
Tom got back into the car after dropping Hattie at school feeling that he’d been snapped so rapidly from one emotion to the next, he probably had whiplash.
In bed the night before, he’d lain awake, alert to what was going on in that little brain in the bedroom over the other side of the landing. Then, all of a sudden, that little brain and the body that carried it about were climbing into bed with him. He just let her hunker down next to him and felt pathetically grateful for that. The next thing he knew, the birds were waking him up and he was on the edge of the bed, only the bedside table stopping him from falling on to the floor, while Hattie occupied the rest of the mattress in a horizontal arabesque.
They hadn’t talked much over breakfast. No point in pushing it. But that silence from her was … torturous.
On the journey to school, he had tried to think of something to chat about. He’d had stand-offs with all kinds of people in his life – irate printers, stroppy writers, a coupleof drunk players from an opposing team in a back street in Carlisle, but this was the worst. It made him feel unmanned.
He could only suppose that was because this incident wasn’t about him managing to placate someone enough to get what he wanted (and in the case of Carlisle, not losing his teeth). This time it was about trying to give Hattie what she wanted. But what she wanted was the one thing he couldn’t deliver.
He had parked further away from school than he normally did, hoping that during the walk to the playground, he could think of the right words to prevent them parting with this awful thing wedged between them. But he’d only just taken the key out of the ignition when she said, in an un-Hattie-like voice, ‘Will you ever let me see Mummy again?’
It was as if someone had put their hand flat on his stomach and pushed it as hard as possible towards his backbone. Undoing his seatbelt he had turned quickly and seen that she was really scared of the question she was asking. Not caring that it was a struggle, he had clambered into the back of the car and sat beside her and got hold of her hand.
‘Hattie, sweetheart, please don’t ever think I won’t let you see Mummy. It’s just you’re too young to travel to Italy
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