mouthful of scrambled egg and toast still evident in her mouth.
Lucy was shocked—far too shocked to even think about the offence to good manners inherent in Charlotte speaking with her mouth full. 'I—Why—? Um, what makes you ask that, love?' she managed finally, trying to infuse it with the same calm, upbeat interest with which she greeted knotty questions about Adam and Eve or the meaning of infinity.
'I just wanted to know.'
Of course. Ask a silly question, get an obvious answer.
She tried again. 'I mean, were you thinking that you'd like me to, or not like me to, or something?'
Charlotte's use of the word 'again' was nagging at Lucy's conscience as she spoke.
She'd never actually said that she'd been married to Lucy's father. She'd given as little detail as possible, and had couched it in general terms. They'd only spoken about it together a couple of times, and not for quite a while. There was a big difference between what you told a three-year-old, and what a five-year-old wanted to hear.
But even at three, Lucy had not wanted to he to the extent of telling Charlotte that her daddy was dead. Instead, she'd explained how sometimes a mummy and a daddy found out that they couldn't get on well enough together and it was best if they didn't have anything more to do with each other. They decided which person the child would live with. Often the mummy. Sometimes the daddy.
Sometimes the daddy had visits with the child, or had her to stay in the holidays or on weekends. But some mummies and daddies didn't think this was a good idea. They thought it would be confusing and upsetting for the child, and that it was best if the daddy didn't see the child at all.
All of which had seemed to work very nicely, in answer to 'Why haven't I got a daddy?' up on the farm, when Charlotte had been little, with a wonderful male influence in the person of Grandad. Till very recently, Charlotte had had far more curiosity about the natural world around her than about a father she'd never seen, and she'd had little daily contact with other children and their sophisticated ideas and modern family relationships.
Now, suddenly, out of the blue, the difficult questions had started.
'I don't know if I'd like you to or not,' Charlotte said. 'I wouldn't know that, would I, until I'd met the man that you were thinking of having be my new dad? If I liked him, then I'd like a new dad. I've never had a proper one before, and it'd be fun. Ellie's dad is fun. But if I didn't like him, then I'd tell you that, and you'd tell him, 'No, I can't marry you', wouldn't you?'.
Charlotte obviously wasn't saying all this off the top of her head. She must have been thinking about it very seriously.
'Well,' Lucy managed, feeling almost dizzy at the hypothetical heights she and Charlotte were ascending to, out of the blue. Charlotte was due at school in twenty minutes, and her school lunch wasn't made and Lucy was still in her slippers. 'I don't think I'd get as far as having him ask me to marry him if you didn't like him. I think if you and he didn't get along well together after you'd met each other a couple of times, I'd tell him...tell him...'
'That you wouldn't marry him, like I said,' Charlotte supplied helpfully.
'Well, no, because people don't usually talk about getting married until they know each other very, very well.'
'Like for a whole term?'
'Usually longer than that.'
Two. terms?'
'Sometimes two terms.' Now Lucy felt as if she was being pulled very cheerfully farther and farther down a path that was in completely the opposite direction from where she wanted to go, and she knew she had to take firm control of the conversation. 'You've been talking about this with someone, haven't you? Was it a teacher?'
'Are you cross?'
'No, I'm not cross, gorgeous, but I would like to know.'
'It was Ellie. She talks about it with her dad. Her dad says he thinks he might get married again, but not yet. You see, it wasn't that he and Ellie's mum couldn't
Lucy was shocked—far too shocked to even think about the offence to good manners inherent in Charlotte speaking with her mouth full. 'I—Why—? Um, what makes you ask that, love?' she managed finally, trying to infuse it with the same calm, upbeat interest with which she greeted knotty questions about Adam and Eve or the meaning of infinity.
'I just wanted to know.'
Of course. Ask a silly question, get an obvious answer.
She tried again. 'I mean, were you thinking that you'd like me to, or not like me to, or something?'
Charlotte's use of the word 'again' was nagging at Lucy's conscience as she spoke.
She'd never actually said that she'd been married to Lucy's father. She'd given as little detail as possible, and had couched it in general terms. They'd only spoken about it together a couple of times, and not for quite a while. There was a big difference between what you told a three-year-old, and what a five-year-old wanted to hear.
But even at three, Lucy had not wanted to he to the extent of telling Charlotte that her daddy was dead. Instead, she'd explained how sometimes a mummy and a daddy found out that they couldn't get on well enough together and it was best if they didn't have anything more to do with each other. They decided which person the child would live with. Often the mummy. Sometimes the daddy.
Sometimes the daddy had visits with the child, or had her to stay in the holidays or on weekends. But some mummies and daddies didn't think this was a good idea. They thought it would be confusing and upsetting for the child, and that it was best if the daddy didn't see the child at all.
All of which had seemed to work very nicely, in answer to 'Why haven't I got a daddy?' up on the farm, when Charlotte had been little, with a wonderful male influence in the person of Grandad. Till very recently, Charlotte had had far more curiosity about the natural world around her than about a father she'd never seen, and she'd had little daily contact with other children and their sophisticated ideas and modern family relationships.
Now, suddenly, out of the blue, the difficult questions had started.
'I don't know if I'd like you to or not,' Charlotte said. 'I wouldn't know that, would I, until I'd met the man that you were thinking of having be my new dad? If I liked him, then I'd like a new dad. I've never had a proper one before, and it'd be fun. Ellie's dad is fun. But if I didn't like him, then I'd tell you that, and you'd tell him, 'No, I can't marry you', wouldn't you?'.
Charlotte obviously wasn't saying all this off the top of her head. She must have been thinking about it very seriously.
'Well,' Lucy managed, feeling almost dizzy at the hypothetical heights she and Charlotte were ascending to, out of the blue. Charlotte was due at school in twenty minutes, and her school lunch wasn't made and Lucy was still in her slippers. 'I don't think I'd get as far as having him ask me to marry him if you didn't like him. I think if you and he didn't get along well together after you'd met each other a couple of times, I'd tell him...tell him...'
'That you wouldn't marry him, like I said,' Charlotte supplied helpfully.
'Well, no, because people don't usually talk about getting married until they know each other very, very well.'
'Like for a whole term?'
'Usually longer than that.'
Two. terms?'
'Sometimes two terms.' Now Lucy felt as if she was being pulled very cheerfully farther and farther down a path that was in completely the opposite direction from where she wanted to go, and she knew she had to take firm control of the conversation. 'You've been talking about this with someone, haven't you? Was it a teacher?'
'Are you cross?'
'No, I'm not cross, gorgeous, but I would like to know.'
'It was Ellie. She talks about it with her dad. Her dad says he thinks he might get married again, but not yet. You see, it wasn't that he and Ellie's mum couldn't
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