by Laura Riley
Lizzie looks over a few times, her face lined with concern. “Is everything okay?”
I take in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, I think it’s best I go home.”
She wags her finger side to side, as though chastising me. “Cole won’t be happy.”
“Cole will be fine,” I lie. I know I’ll have to make the hours up.
She smiles impishly. “Should have let me put lotion on you when I offered.” She pushes open the van door and slides out. She waits for a few seconds, scuffing her feet on the ground. “I guess I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Ellie flaps her hands in the air. “Nemo!”
The corners of Lizzie’s mouth turn up. “I’ll be right back.”
Lizzie returns moments later with the Nemo mosaic in her hands. “It’s dry now.” She glances at me. “Daddy might want to laminate it, it’ll save the pieces falling off.”
Ellie’s eyes are fixated on the mosaic all the way home. I glance down every so often to see her running her finger over the coloured squares. Indicating left, I clear my throat. “Lizzie’s nice, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“It was nice spending time with her today, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think she’s pretty?”
“Yes.”
Her monosyllabic answers push me to ask her question after question. Do you think she’s pretty? Sheesh. I really am clutching at straws to get Ellie to open up to me. I want to know how she feels. One of Ellie’s issues is that she doesn’t communicate her emotions well.
Indicating again, I pull into a side road and park next to a bus stop. I switch off my engine and look at my little girl. I brush my fingers through her hair.
“Talk to me.” I tap her forehead. “Tell me what’s going on in there.”
No reply and she looks down.
I lift her chin. “Don’t do this.”
Parents often complain about their children talking too openly, saying embarrassing shit in public. God, what I’d give for Ellie to be like that. Sure, she talks to me and Darcy, but never about her mum, never about how she feels, what she wants from life. I feel as though I’m watching her tread water, one wrong move and she’ll be lost forever. I just want something, anything from her.
“Talk to me.” My tone is harsher than I had intended.
Her gaze meets mine. “I am talking, Daddy.”
“Do you ever think of Mummy?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Silence. She just sits staring down at that bloody fish. I yank the mosaic from her hands. I hadn’t anticipated her grip being quite so tight. She pulls one way and I pull the other. The thin card tears, each of us holding on to a broken piece.
Shit.
I glance down at the torn card. It’s ruined, and no matter how I try to stick it back together it’ll never be the same. “No, no, no. I’m so sorry.”
Tears shimmer in her eyes. I know saying sorry isn’t enough, I’ve got to wrap her in my arms and let her cry it out. I unbuckle her seat belt, and she kicks and punches me.
“I hate you, I hate you,” she cries. “It’s your fault Mummy left. I want to live with Mummy.”
Her words hit my heart like a damn sledgehammer. The more I try to comfort her the more she lashes out. Her face is bright red and tears fall from her eyes. As much as it kills me, I lean back and give her the space she needs.
She cries for a little over five minutes. When she eventually calms down, she looks at the picture in her lap, her finger tracing over the frayed edge. That’s when it hits me. I’ve got to stop trying to fix Ellie and start working with her. “I’m sorry, baby.”
Sniffing, she climbs out of her seat and into my lap. She lassos her arms around my neck. I try not to flinch as her hands slap against my sunburnt back. I hold her close as she cries into my chest, really cries. No crocodile tears, no screaming blue murder, this is real. It feels as though she’s released all that pent-up emotion and like a balloon she deflates until her whole body goes limp in my lap.
“Talk to me,” I say softly, stroking her hair.
“Why did Mummy leave? Doesn’t she love us any more?”
Finally.
“Of course she loves you, and I don’t know why she left. Sometimes people make bad choices.” I squeeze her tightly. “I will never leave you. Never. Do you hear me?”
Five, maybe ten minutes pass as we sit in complete silence.
“I love you, Daddy.”
God, if only she knew how much I love her, how much I have sacrificed and will continue to sacrifice so that she’s happy. “I love you, El.”
She pulls away. I let her go. She slides off my lap and jumps up into her booster seat. “I want to go home now.”
I shuffle across, grab her seat belt and strap her in. I pass her my half of the picture and pull back into the main road. “I’ll get some tape on it when we get home, it’ll be as good as new, you’ll see.”
“It’s okay, Daddy, we can both have half.”
“Half each, eh?”
“Did you know half of ten is eight?” she says proudly.
I laugh aloud. “Close enough.”
I know Darcy is keen to homeschool Ellie and has been trying to teach her the basic principles of maths. If Ellie’s fractions are anything to go by then I’d say my sister is failing miserably.
I decide to test her knowledge. “Why half, why not a third?”
Hitting her head, she rolls her eyes. “Because there’s two of us. That way we both have one half of the picture, and the other won’t be sad.”
I smile. What a sweet thing to say. “I’ll never be sad because I have the best little girl in my life.”
I pull into our street. Darcy’s car is parked on the drive. Shit, I didn’t tell her that I was leaving work early. I pull the handbrake up, turn off the engine and unbuckle Ellie’s seatbelt.
“I like Lizzie,” she says out of nowhere. “She’s really nice to me, and she’s pretty.”
I swallow. “She is, isn’t she?” I knew all of this to be true anyway, but I like that my daughter likes her.
We spend the remainder of the day creating our own mosaics. I attempt to draw Nemo and Dory whilst Ellie colours in pieces of paper and Darcy cuts them out. We make a good team, apart from sticking some of the colourful squares to the carpet, but hey, what good is a crafts day without a little mess?
By seven pm Ellie is asleep on the settee. I carry her upstairs and lay her in bed. Ten minutes later I can hear her running across the landing and into my bedroom, getting into my bed.
Darcy stares at me as we tidy up. I can feel the question burning on the top of her tongue, but she sits tight-lipped.
“Spit it out, sis, you’ve never been one for holding back.”
“You’re different.”
The question I anticipated sounds a lot more like a statement. I don’t know what she’s insinuating, so spread my hands. “More good-looking?”
She throws a screwed-up piece of paper at my head. “You’re spending a lot of time with that girl, Lizzie.”
I nod. “For Ellie.”
“Are you sure it’s just for Ellie?”
“I’m sure.”
Though am I sure? Work is a means to an end, but the last few days, I’ve looked forward to going. I’ve looked forward to seeing Lizzie.
Darcy looks past me at the clock. “I best get going.” She slaps my back as she passes.
Immediately, I hunch forward. “Fuck’s sake, Darce.”
She looks at me with wide eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but my back is screaming for some aloe vera gel. “Darce, do me a favour before you go.”
“Sure.”
Darcy leaves after applying a thick layer of after-sun lotion to my back. I retrieve my phone from the kitchen the moment her car pulls off the drive. Lizzie and I exchanged numbers on the night out. My finger hovers over her name. I call her.
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She answers on the second ring. “Hello? Seth?”
I don’t answer.
“Seth?”
I take a long breath in. “Sorry, Lizzie, I clicked on your name by mistake.”
The truth is, I needed to hear her voice. I needed to call someone for a change who isn’t one of the lads and isn’t my sister. I feel like I need something, something for me. I’m just not sure what that something is. But I feel as though I’m closer to finding it when Lizzie’s about.
Get a damn grip, Seth. What you need is a beer and to jerk off in the shower.
“Oh,” Lizzie says. I can hear the disappointment in her voice, and wish there was more I could say. “That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I creep upstairs and flick the light on to the bathroom. “See you tomorrow.”
Seth
I don’t sleep well; my back feels as though it’s on fire. I come downstairs early to catch up on some social media work for CSR’s Cornwall Construction Ltd.
Ellie wakes up at five am and comes down to join me. I switch on the TV and we watch Finding Nemo. By seven am we move to the kitchen where I prepare breakfast.
Still wearing her PJs, Ellie spoons cereal into her mouth. Milk drips down her chin.
“Now remember, Aunty Darcy isn’t working today, so you get to stay at home,” I say while loading the dishwasher.
Ellie’s shoulders drop and she clinks her spoon against the bowl as she eats.
I round the breakfast bar and sit at her side. “You like seeing Daddy at work, huh?”
She shrugs, circling her spoon in her bowl. “I guess.”
“You guess?”
She takes a deep breath. “Well, the beach and the park were good, but I liked making Nemo with Lizzie. I like fish. You promised I’d see fish at the beach. I looked in the sea, but you lied, there were no fish.”
I laugh. “Oh, my God, Ellie. Breathe.” My girl wants fish? I’ll give her fish. “What about we go to the chippie when I finish work? I’ll pick you up a battered cod.”
She folds her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Daddy, that is not funny.”
And just like that, my baby is a step closer to becoming a teenager.
“Okay, okay. What would you say to the aquarium?”
Squealing, she claps her hands. “Today?”
I shake my head. “You’ll spend today with Aunty Darcy; we’ll go over the weekend.”
The doorbell chimes.
“Speaking of your aunty…” I kiss Ellie on the cheek and run into the hall. I let Darcy in at the same time as I run out.
“See you later,” I call, shutting the door behind me.
I arrive at work at the same time as Cole and Rick. Cole presses the key fob, locking his Land Rover as I manually lock my beat-up old van.
A pink balloon floats above Cole’s head. “Where’s the party at?” I question, jumping up and giving the balloon a whack.
He grips the balloon for dear life. “Don’t, Seth. It’s Lizzie’s birthday today, and her present is the balloon.”
Shit, Lizzie’s birthday, why didn’t she tell me?
Because you’re nothing to her, you tool.
I scrunch my nose up. “You brought your sister a balloon?”
Original.
“It’ll make sense to her later, that’s all I’m saying,” he says, giving me a sharp nudge. “Now hands off the merchandise. This balloon cost me an awful lot of money.”
Rick nods, as though they’re in cahoots.
I motion them to carry on. “You go ahead. I’ve left my combi drill in the van,” I lie. I walk around the side of my van and slide open the door, where I shoot Darcy a text.
Me: It’s Lizzie’s birthday today.
She doesn’t reply right away, so I begin moving tools around in an attempt to look busy.
Darcy: Do you want me to get some flowers from Ellie?
Me: Yes.
Me: No.
Flowers fill a woman with expectation. I want a gift that’ll say ‘thank you’, not ‘I want to get in your pants’.
Darcy: ?
Me: Shit, Darce, I don’t know, get Ellie to make her something.
Darcy: Like what?
Me: The hell should I know?
Darcy: Leave it with me, we’ll come and drop it off later.
My sister isn’t working today, which means no Ellie. No Ellie means I can’t spend the afternoon with Lizzie. My shoulders drop and I sigh heavily.
Get a grip. She’s not your girlfriend.
I grab the drill, lock the van and make my way into the house. Lizzie is sitting on the settee in the lounge reading a book. She waves when she sees me.
I wave back. “Happy birthday.”
She blushes. “Thanks.”
There’s so much more I could say, so much I want to say, but I don’t. I can’t stop thinking how good she was with Ellie at the beach yesterday and what a lovely day we all had. I stand staring at her for longer than I intended to.
“I best get to work.” I turn and make my way to the loft room. It was Cole’s great idea for us all to work together today. As spacious as the room is, the windows are a damn nuisance. The blinds haven’t been fitted, so we’re working in direct sunlight. Even with the skylight window open, it’s like a furnace.
We have the arduous job of finishing the insulation. Rolls of rockwool have been laid out for the floor, and sheets of Celotex are stacked, ready for insulating the roof. It’s amazing what three pairs of hands can achieve.
Cole’s a brickie by trade. His forte is extensions. Rick is what I’d call a jack of all trades—he can plaster walls, tile, fit doors and lay floors. There’s not a lot he can’t put his hand to. On our own, our workmanship is pretty standard, but together we make an awesome team.
Sweat is pouring from us, and by eleven am, we’re forced to take a break. Rick and I decide to get on with other jobs that need doing. Cole, however, is insistent that he wants to finish the insulation today. It’s extremely ambitious of him, but I won’t knock him for his determination.
Rick goes to the master bedroom and makes a start on the plastering. Cole mentions that Lizzie wants the colour of the front door changing, so I pop to the hardware shop to pick up a pot of white paint for that infernal orange door.
I don’t fuck about when I get back, I open the paint pot and slap on the first coat. I hate painting, but it’s another job on the list that needs ticking off.
With the first coat drying, I notice cars park up next to the house and next to the pavement opposite. People exit their vehicles and head this way.
“Walter, Edith.” I nod as Cole and Lizzie’s parents head onto the driveway. Edith is in her late sixties, Walter is in his eighties with his eyesight failing. She helps guide him to the house. I move aside so they can enter.
The two blondes from the nightclub are the next to arrive. One has a little girl around Ellie’s age.
I point to the door. “It’s just been painted.”
The women walk past carefully, and of course the little girl sticks her finger right into the wet paint.
“Freja, that was naughty,” her mum scolds.
Yes, Freja, that was naughty. I glare at the fingerprint mark, grab the brush and add a thin layer.
A lady wheeling a pushchair is the last to arrive. I suggest she enters the house from the side gate, which has been propped open with a bag of sand.
“All right, mate?” Cole is standing in the hall. His face is red and blotchy and he’s wiping his head with a towel. “You can stop working now, we’re having a little birthday lunch for Lizzie. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Sure, hold on.” I place the brush in the paint tray and shoot Darcy a text, asking if she’d pop round with Ellie. Then, leaving the front door open, I follow the small party into the kitchen.
Lizzie has prepared a selection of finger foods on the breakfast bar and is plating up sandwiches when I enter. She looks so beautiful today. She’s wearing a red polka-
dot dress. Her hair is scraped up and a small hair piece is secured around her hair tie to give the illusion of a messy bun. It’s sad I know that, but thanks to YouTube tutorials on hairstyling I know how to braid Ellie’s hair. Granted, it may not be perfect, but it makes her happy, and that’s all that matters.
I feel slightly underdressed in heavy blue trousers and a paint-mottled t-shirt, though I feel a little more at ease knowing Rick and Cole are also in their work clothes.
Lizzie stands the other side of the kitchen. It feels wrong standing this far away from her. We’ve been so close over the last few days, it’s as though my place is by her side.
Lizzie hugs the guests in greeting and they hand her cards and gifts. She arranges them into a nice pile on the kitchen worktop.
Amber watches me as I watch Lizzie. I don’t look back at Amber, instead stick a breadstick into my mouth and slowly make my way around the room.
Cole’s balloon floats in the air. I can’t miss it, it’s bright pink and as big as a pumpkin. It’s attached to a ladder-backed chair by a long pink string, a pink string that Cole is trying desperately to untie as Freja attempts to steal the balloon.
Once everyone is acquainted, the party moves outdoors. The garden is a nice size—the previous owner was an avid gardener and that shows with the landscaping and immaculately tended flower beds.
Holding a paper plate, I stand with Rick and Cole under a small gazebo. Our conversation is centred around the house and what works are left before completion.
Excusing himself, Rick heads to the kitchen for more food. It seems as though he’s worked up quite the appetite. This will be his fourth helping.
Alone with Cole, I stand in complete silence. Lizzie is talking to her parents. The blondes are talking to the lady with the pushchair and cooing over her baby. Freja is playing with a bubble machine.
“You’re spending a lot of time with my sister,” Cole says. And there it is, the elephant in the room.
My body stiffens as I turn to face him. “Yes, with my daughter.” My tone is harsh and defensive. I don’t know why.
