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My girl smacks the hammer on the head of the final nail in our bridge and stands back, admiring our work. ‘We should go to Hannah’s to get the paint.’
‘What?’ I look up from my toolbox.
‘The paint,’ she says again. ‘For our bridge.’ She tosses the hammer into the toolbox before me. ‘We should go to Hannah’s to get it.’
I slam the toolbox shut and stand. ‘Mr Chaps sells paint.’
‘Only boring white. I want it to be colourful and bright.’ Alex follows me as I trek back through the woods to the cabin. ‘We’ll get the paint from Hannah.’
I throw my toolbox on the back of my truck and wipe my hands down with an old rag. Alex has found her way to Hannah’s bike by the shed and is inspecting our handiwork. It’s as good as new. I’m sure Hannah will be pleased, not that I plan on finding out. I’ll let Alex deliver it back to her just as soon as I’ve attached that silly bell that Alex insisted we buy.
‘I’ll get the base-coat paint from Mr Chaps, you can get the colourful paint from Hannah.’ If her shop is even open. ‘Come on, we’ve got to get to Grange to have my truck sorted.’
I jump in and start the engine as Alex skips over, her jeans dragging the floor. They’re all frayed, they have oil stains everywhere, and you can’t see her Vans they’re so baggy. ‘You should wear those to the beauty pageant,’ I say when she’s hopped in. ‘Guaranteed winner.’
She snorts and drags her belt on. ‘Are you going to laugh at me?’ she asks, pulling off her baseball cap and putting it back on back-to-front.
‘Of course.’
‘Thanks.’ Winding down the window, she rests her elbow out and kicks her Vans up onto the dashboard. ‘Can you bring a paper bag for my head?’
‘You being in the pageant makes your mother happy.’
‘Nothing makes Mother happy,’ she muses quietly, gazing into the woods as we roll down the track.
Where did that come from? I glance across to her, flicking my elbow out to nudge her. ‘Cabbage?’
‘She’s crying a lot lately.’ She shrugs. ‘Grandmother said it’s because she’s depressed or something.’
‘What’s your mother got to be depressed about?’
My daughter’s mouth twists, and she looks away, avoiding my eyes.
‘Hey.’ I pull the truck to a stop and turn in to her. ‘Talk to me.’
‘Promise you won’t say anything,’ she orders.
I give her my little finger and she hooks it with hers. ‘Pinkie promise,’ I say, squeezing. ‘Now what’s up?’
‘Casper wants a divorce. I heard them arguing.’
Whoa. I wasn’t expecting that. ‘Why?’ That’s the stupidest question a man’s ever asked. Darcy Hampton is insufferable – a self-important, spoiled brat of a woman. She’s scheming, manipulative, sly. And Casper’s not my favourite person in the world, granted, but he’s always treated Alex like his own, and past my irritation and annoyance, I know that’s something I should be grateful for. But he’s still not her dad.
‘Something about growing apart,’ Cabbage says, waving a hand in feigned indifference. ‘That’s what Casper said, anyway. I guess that’s life. You love someone, they love you back, and then one of you decides that, actually, you don’t love the other person. And one person leaves. You know, you’re better off single, Dad. I’m never having a boyfriend or a husband.’ She looks across to me. ‘I’m glad it’s just me and you.’
Baseball bat, say hello to my stomach.
I return forward and stare at the steering wheel, my cheeks blowing out. ‘I’m glad, too,’ I reply quietly, putting my truck into gear and pulling off.
Fuck me.
Whitesnake’s ‘Here I Go Again’ blares from the speakers on our way to Grange, Alex and I jigging in our seats. She sings at the top of her voice, slapping the side of the truck out the window as we speed through the countryside. Her head starts jerking in time to the beats – my little headbanger – and I laugh, her hair whipping around her face as the breeze gushes through the cab. ‘Dun-dun-dun!’
I join in, cranking up the volume even more as I smack the steering wheel.
‘Woohooo!’ Alex laughs, stamping her feet repeatedly on the dashboard.
‘This was one of my mum’s favourites,’ I tell her. ‘Every Sunday morning on repeat while she vacuumed.’
She chuckles, reaching forward and turning the volume down. ‘I wish I could have met her. She sounds so cool.’
I smile sadly. I lost my mum just ten minutes after I won shared custody of Alex. She didn’t even get to meet my daughter, and that is something I will never forgive Darcy for. My mum would have loved my girl. And my girl was the only reason I survived my mother’s death. Had I not had Alex to take care of, I don’t know what I would’ve done. ‘I wish that, too,’ I say, smiling across at her.
