by Laura Riley
“Amber, I’ve got to go.” I hang up and run to my bedroom. Ellie is sitting in the corner of the room, her legs pulled tightly to her chest.
Rick and Seth are standing by the window. Rick drinks from a silver flask whilst Seth drums his fingers on the sill.
Seth exhales loudly. “I’m sorry you’ve been put in this position, I really am. If your brother wasn’t offering me the opportunity of a lifetime, I’d be out of here.” With his arm outstretched he motions around the room. “She can’t stay. Floorboards are up, nails and wires everywhere, it’s an accident waiting to happen.” He looks at his daughter. “Ellie. The quicker you do as you’re told, the quicker we can go home.” His voice is firm and authoritative.
She hugs her knees, as if making a barrier to keep everyone away. Seth strides towards her and lifts her to her feet. His expression softens as he manoeuvres her towards me.
Downstairs is a stalemate. I try everything, even resorting to singing nursery rhymes and using a wooden spoon and a saucepan as percussion. Still she sits silently.
I manage to get her to sit down on the settee in the lounge. I fetch the drink and cookies from the kitchen, placing them on the coffee table where they sit untouched. After turning on the TV, I switch it to a kids’ channel. I make sure to sit on the easy chair near the door. There’s no way she will get past me again.
What the hell do I do when the programme finishes? Not that she’s watching it, but it beats sitting with only the sound of hammering and sawing from upstairs.
As a last resort I ring Amber. “Please rescue me. Bring Freja round. Maybe a little friend to play with is what Ellie needs.”
“Sure, but I can’t stay long. I’ve got to pop into town to speak to a lady about exhibiting some of my photos.”
“No problem.”
“Give me half an hour.”
The bell rings after ten minutes. I run to the door to let them in.
“Hey,” Amber says, giving me a hug.
“Hey, yourself.” I smile. She has no idea how happy I am to see her.
Amber’s wearing a light blue summer dress that matches the colour of her eyes. I squint, noticing the peculiar way her hair is moving.
“Boo,” Freja yells, jumping out of her mum’s locks.
I jump back, holding my hand over my heart for effect. “You scared me.”
“Coz I was invincible.”
“Invisible,” Amber corrects.
“You certainly were.” I laugh.
We make our way to the lounge. Freja is carrying a plastic carrier bag behind her back. I reach forward and the bag rustles between my fingers. “What have you got there?”
She turns, placing her finger to her lips. “Shhh. It’s a surprise.”
“Oh, okay,” I whisper.
Amber reaches the lounge door first. She strolls inside and kneels directly in front of Ellie. “I’m Amber, and this is Freja. She’s brought some goodies from home that you can both play with.”
Freja places her little hand on her hip. “Mummy, it was a surprise.”
Amber beckons Freja, who without question sits next to Ellie on the carpet and empties out the bag. Puzzle boxes, dolls, crayons and two colouring books lie in front of them.
Freja waves the book in the air, the pages flapping open. “I’m going to colour.”
For the next five minutes, Amber continually tries to engage with Ellie, whose face remains sullen, her body statue-like.
“Finished,” Freja declares, flicking through the pages. Her idea of finished is random scribbles and more blank page than colour. She holds the book up for us to see. “Look, Mummy, a fishy.”
Ellie rocks forwards, leaning on her hands, and peers at the picture. Freja smiles at Ellie and briefly Ellie smiles back. I inch forward, which causes the floorboard to creak. Ellie’s eyes meet mine for a beat. Like a feral cat looking for escape, she runs and jumps onto the settee and curls up into a tight ball.
Freja colours for another ten minutes. I keep hoping that Ellie will join in, but she doesn’t.
Amber sits on the arm of the settee, stroking Ellie’s hair. She possesses that motherly instinct that just doesn’t come naturally to me, maybe because I haven’t got a child of my own. Maybe it’s because my own mum didn’t have a maternal bone in her body.
I’ve got to try harder.
I follow Amber’s eyes as she glances at the screen of her phone. “Is that the time? I’ve got to run. It was lovely to meet you, Ellie.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Freja says, whilst bundling her toys into the plastic bag.
I stand. “I’ll see you out.”
When we reach the front door Amber gives me a hug. I guess it’s a group hug as one of Freja’s arms wraps around my thighs.
“What am I doing wrong?” I ask into Amber’s hair.
She pulls away, offering me a sympathetic grin. “You’re trying too hard, that’s what. You’re an art teacher, why don’t you get her to paint with you?”
“That’s the first thing I suggested we do.”
She raises a brow. “Exactly my point. You suggested it. You need to make her think it was her idea.”
“But how?”
She winks. “You’re a smart girl, figure it out.”
Figure it out? Figure out what?
Keys jingle in Amber’s hands. I can see she’s in a hurry to leave. I open the front door and move aside for them to pass. “Thank you both for coming.”
Amber’s lips curve up into a smile. “Any time.”
Freja skips behind her mum. Amber opens the car door and straps Freja into her car seat.
I stand silently waving them off. Hearing footsteps behind me, I turn. Ellie’s grabbed the banister and is attempting to bolt up the stairs.
I lunge forwards. “Not so fast.” I capture her under the arms and pick her up. I carry her back to the hall. “It’s okay, sweetie. Your daddy will be done soon, and—”
She panics. Her arms and legs dart everywhere. I’m about to set her down when she lets out the most ear-piercing scream I’ve ever heard.
Footsteps boom onto the landing.
“What the hell?” Seth yells. My heart races as he descends the stairs three at a time. On reaching me, he grabs Ellie from my arms, like he’s somehow protecting her against me. With his little girl wedged under his arm, he storms out of the house. “I knew this was a bad idea!”
I run out onto the drive. “Wait up. Let me explain.”
He doesn’t acknowledge me. He unlocks his van, one-handedly opens the door and tosses the booster seat in. He gently sets the little girl in the seat and straps her in.
He slams the door, his eyes locking on mine. “Your brother’s an idiot.” He wrenches open the driver’s side door and jumps in.
“What’s going on?” Cole says, standing behind me as Seth’s van reverses off the drive.
I shove him. “Seth was right. You are an idiot.”
He spreads his arms wide. “What did I do?”
“You’re telling me you didn’t hear her?”
Cole leans forwards, looking both ways at the rows of houses. “Yeah. I think the whole street heard.”
My eyes tear up. I feel like a complete failure.
Being the protective big brother, he grabs me in a bear hug. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I thought she’d be okay, what with Seth upstairs. I’m sure she’ll be better tomorrow.”
I stiffen in his embrace. “Tomorrow? Are you crazy? No way in hell will he leave his daughter in my care again.”
“Leave it with me, sis. I’ll talk to Seth later when he’s calmed down.”
“Wait till he’s calmed down? What about me?”
Cole takes my shoulders in his hands. “I’m on a deadline with this job. I can get a team of subcontractors in, but they can’t start till Wednesday. If his sister can’t watch the kid, could you mind her for just one more day?”
Seth
With the engine still running, we sit at the drive-through. Ellie
bites into a burger.
“Nice, Ellie?”
She nods. “Daddy, I said no pickle.”
She pulls the pickle from her burger and dangles it in my direction. The joys of parenthood—eating shit your kids won’t. As much as I tell her to try new foods, pickles are the exception. Leading by example, I pop it into my mouth and try not to heave as I swallow. I can feel my face contort.
With widening eyes, she looks at me for my verdict.
“That tasted like a slug. You made your daddy eat a slug.”
She guffaws. “That’s gross.”
“That’s gross?” I repeat. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?” I launch over the seat, grab her and squeeze her sides and thighs.
She bursts into a fit of laughter. “Don’t tickle me!” she yells, her little hands flapping around as she attempts to push me away.
I love seeing her like this, happy and laughing. It broke my heart earlier seeing her so upset at Lizzie’s. I just had to get her out of there. I can’t imagine how Lizzie felt. I never should have put her or Ellie in that position.
Feeling like a total prick, I shoot Darcy a quick text to see if she’d mind putting Ellie to bed this evening. There’s someone I owe another apology to.
I park at the end of Chestnut Avenue. It’s a little after nine pm and Rick and Cole are only just leaving. Cole wasn’t kidding when he said we’re on a deadline.
I purposely parked out of the way so the guys won’t pass me on their way home. The last thing I need is Cole thinking something is going on with me and his sister. After-hours visits usually mean one thing.
When only Lizzie’s car is on the drive, I unbuckle my seatbelt and jump out of my van. I take slow, measured steps, going over in my mind what I want to say to her.
Stop stalling.
Taking a deep breath, I press my finger on the doorbell.
I can hear footsteps from inside. The door flings open. “Did you forget somethi—” Lizzie frowns the moment our eyes meet. “If you’ve come to make me feel any worse than I already do, you’re wasting your time.”
I place my foot in the door, preventing her from slamming it in my face. She applies pressure, but I don’t budge. “Can you just hear me out, please? All I want is five minutes of your time.”
The pressure on my foot is gone, and the door slowly opens. She disappears into a door to the right.
Time to eat some humble pie.
I kick off my shoes and follow her into the lounge. The room is unbelievably tidy, which is something I’m not accustomed to since having a child. All the walls are magnolia, except for a red feature wall. The room’s upholstery is also red and a selection of canvas-style paintings hang on the walls.
Lizzie sits on a small easy chair next to the door. I sit on the settee.
“Drink?” She taps her foot on the floor.
I’d love a tea, but I know she’s only asking out of politeness. I won’t overstay my welcome any more than I already am. “Thanks, but no. I’m recovering from the sugar overdose from earlier.”
Needless to say, the joke isn’t well received. She folds her arms tightly across her chest. “Just say your piece, please.”
Rubbing my fingers over my beard, I clear my throat. “The thing is—”
Breathe. This is unavoidable.
“The thing is,” I repeat, “I may need you to babysit Ellie for a few days this week. Maybe next week. Darcy’s boss is still working through cover hours, but it looks like her hours will be sporadic, meaning she’ll have to drop Ellie off in the mornings or early afternoons. It depends which shifts she gets.”
With jerky movements, Lizzie shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Seth. I’d love to help you, I really would. But no.”
Why are women so damn awkward? I don’t act shocked; deep down I knew what the answer would be before I asked the question.
Her stare pingpongs from me to the door. I know she won’t ask me to leave. She’d rather drop little hints and hope I pick up on them. I choose ignorance on this occasion and stay seated.
I steeple my fingers on my lap. “I can’t afford the bills if I don’t work.”
Her expression softens and, uncrossing her arms, she leans forward in her seat.
Okay, now I have her attention I need to lay it out. I let out a harsh breath. “My ex-wife…”
She raises her hand. “You don’t have to go into detail. It’s really none of my business.”
I don’t argue. She’s right. Snippets of my life with that woman I keep locked away in the recesses of my mind. There are only so many times in one’s life you can be kicked down. Eventually you just don’t get back up.
Lizzie’s chest rises and falls before she finally speaks. “I’ll look after Ellie whilst you’re working. But I’m not going to lie, in my time teaching, I’ve never felt so lost, so out of my depth as I did babysitting Ellie today. I tried everything and nothing worked. I felt like a complete failure.”
Welcome to my world.
“I’m sorry, Lizzie. I should have told you about Ellie’s issues…” I try to carry on, but instead sit in silence gathering my thoughts. The smartass who said ‘a problem shared is a problem halved’ is a complete moron. Bowing my head, I rub my hands over my eyes, like not seeing makes it less of an admission.
Here goes.
“Ellie developed separation anxiety when her mum left.”
Each word, each syllable feels like a razor blade, tearing my dignity to shreds. What I’ve done in one short sentence is prove what a crappy dad I am. I know it, now Lizzie does too.
I glance up. Pity clouds Lizzie’s features, but she doesn’t break eye contact.
“I’m so sorry, Seth. You should have told me.”
I should have, but didn’t because I didn’t want her damn sympathy. Telling people, especially strangers, about Ellie’s condition is something I’m not comfortable doing, and I don’t think I ever will be.
“Is she better at school with her teachers and peers?”
Lizzie just had to go there. If she didn’t doubt my ability as a dad before, she sure as shit will now. “Ellie isn’t at school yet and I pulled her out of nursery last year.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “How old is she?”
“She’s five. She was due to start school last September, but her birthday is in August, which meant she would have been one of the youngest. I was given the choice to send her or hold her back a year.”
“So you held her back?”
I sit in silence and wait, wait whilst Lizzie judges me, wait for her verdict. I’m waiting for her to tell me I failed Ellie. Tell me I’m not capable of bringing my own daughter up. I can feel myself tensing, the emotion like a volcano bubbling up in the pit of my stomach and I’m about to explode.
“She wasn’t ready,” I bark, my voice that loud I’m sure her neighbours heard.
Lizzie’s eyes widen. I shocked her with my outburst. Shit, I’ve shocked myself. I didn’t realise how much I’ve kept pent up until now. She doesn’t reply. Try as I might, I can’t push down the feelings of inadequacy.
I can see it on her face. She’s judging me. She’s no different to anyone else.
“Go on, say it. Say I wasn’t ready to send her.” I pound my fist against my chest. “Say that I’ve held her back, that the way she is is my fault.”
Lizzie stands and walks towards me. “Seth, I wasn’t going to—”
“It’s not my fault,” I holler.
God, I love that little girl so much that it hurts. I question everything, from her diet, to her sleeping patterns, what she watches on the TV—the list is endless.
“Seth, stop it this second. Do you hear me?” Lizzie’s voice is harsh.
I reach up and take her hand in mine, pulling her onto my lap. Is it wrong to want, to crave physical contact? She’s not judging me, she’s not criticising me, she’s listening.
Feeling like I owe her an explanation, I continue. “Ellie’s mum walked out a little over a year ago. Ther
e were no signs that she was unhappy. She just left. The only thing she left was the divorce papers. She hasn’t been in touch to see Ellie, to ask how she’s getting on. Nothing. It’s as though she just erased our little girl from her life. To put the cherry on top of the cake, Anna left me with a debt I couldn’t pay and we lost our home.”
Lizzie’s body stiffens in my embrace. My embrace. I’m fucking hugging her.
“Oh, my God, Seth, I’m so sorry. Poor Ellie. She must have been heartbroken.”
“I thought she was okay, you know. It started gradually. The bedwetting, night terrors. She wouldn’t sleep in her own bed, so I let her sleep with me. She would wake up constantly to check I was still there. She was becoming more and more detached at nursery. She’d get so worked up about going that she was making herself sick. I couldn’t bear to see her so upset, so I pulled her out. Darcy cut her hours down at work to help out. I just feel that if I’d been a better husband, a better dad, none of this would have happened. My little girl is broken. She’s breaking more and more every day and I don’t know how to fix her.” My eyes are stinging so much from the pain and torment I’ve held behind them for so long. “I’ve got to be strong for Ellie.”
“You’ve got to be strong for you too. Your mental health is as important, Seth. You’re a good dad.”
You’re a good dad. Her words echo in my head.
I pull her into me and hold her close. I hold her tightly to my chest. I feel untethered from the guilt I’ve been harbouring. Validated. Released. Accepted. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like a failure.
“Thank you,” I breathe into her neck.
“Any time.” She gasps for air, squirming in my embrace. “Now, if you don’t mind, could you let me go? I can’t breathe.”
I laugh. “Sorry.” I let her go and she stands. Her face is flushed red. “Can we forget this ever happened?” I say, pointing from me to her.
She nods. “Already forgotten.”
Without another word she rearranges her t-shirt. From the lounge we go into the kitchen. It’s a large rectangular room that overlooks the back garden. The kitchen units as well as the breakfast bar are bright red. She must really like the colour. The kitchen’s only redeeming feature is the black granite worktop.
