I resort to the old standby every mother uses. “We’ll see.”
Effie turns her attention back to the phone screen, cradled in Anders’s large hand. “I’d love to meet a real, live dragon.” The wistful longing is clear. Anders can’t resist it.
“I think Smauglette would love to meet you too. Perhaps your mummy can bring you to meet her?” If Effie knew where Anders's home was, I think she’d ride the Underground alone to get to a bearded dragon.
This time I make it a bargain. “Only if you get back to bed, sweetheart.”
Effie cocks her head, weighing up the deal. That she even has to think about it shows how captivated she is by Anders. Then she nods, scrambles down, and runs off with a last-minute, “Bye Anders,” as she remembers her manners. I follow behind her, making sure she’s firmly tucked up.
Anders is still on the sofa when I get back, the glass of water empty on the side table.
It’s too late and my exhaustion is probably obvious because he doesn’t play games. “Bad news,” he says. “The recovery guythought it most likely your timing belt has gone and damaged your engine. He doesn’t think a repair will be economical.”
I close my eyes. I guess I’ll be going car shopping. It seems every time I get a little safety net underneath us, something happens to yank it out. Just thinking of the taxi fares I’ll incur until I can get a new car is making me want to cry. I bite my lip, trying to hold back tears. If I have to buy a car, I won’t be able to afford the airfare to see my parents.
I’m just tired of the constant stress. All I wanted was to give Effie a little bit of fun.
And then Anders's arms are around me. After all the fantasies, you’d think my body would be singing the Hallelujah chorus but I’m dog-tired. He’s warm and firm and strong and for one minute someone is looking after me. “It will be okay,” he says, just holding me, giving comfort. And amazingly, because I know nothing has inherently changed, it helps.
When I feel I’ve got myself under control, I step back. He lets me go.
“Effie will be tired tomorrow morning,” he says. “Why don’t you keep my car tonight and bring it to work tomorrow? I haven’t got anything first thing; I can cycle in.”
Surreptitiously I wipe away a tendril of dampness that seems to have leaked out of my left eye and nod. Satisfied, Anders leaves, having called a taxi. And finally, I climb into bed, all alone.
I expect to fall asleep immediately, but it doesn't happen. I lie in bed, tossing and turning, willing my mind to keep away from any thought of Anders and his arms around me. After trying almost everything I can think of – reading my book, counting backwards from one hundred – I finally reach into my bedside table and pull out a vibrator. Perhaps it can give me enough release from this tension to fall asleep.
Mentally, I run through my catalogue of hunky heroes, eventually settling on Jamie Fraser on his wedding night inOutlander. I switch the machine on, and it hums quietly. Setting it to its lowest setting — my body isn't up to fast and furious — I place it against my opening, lingering before I inch it upwards. I picture Jamie, his tousled red locks loose, in all his glorious nakedness. But nothing. There's not an ounce of response. My body is deader than a doornail.
Just as I'm about to give up, another image slips into my head: Anders’s face as he sat on my sofa talking to my daughter. The twist of his lips, the smile that travelled to his eyes, the tiny lines between his eyebrows as he reacted to Effie's ignorance ofThe Hobbit.
I'm unprepared for how quickly my body reacts. Two minutes more and I'm gasping as it clenches and ebbs and clenches again. I gasp and lie on my pillows, unable to move. It takes me several minutes to recover enough to pull out a make-up wipe, clean the vibrator, and drop it back into the drawer. Then I flop back against my pillow, silently shrieking,Oh God. What have I just done?
Effie is a grouch in the morning, but we have to get up. When I slide her Weetabix on the table, she shakes her head. She’s eaten the same thing every morning for over a year and yet now it won’t do. I run through a list of everything we have that might be acceptable, but she remains mute, rejecting all options. My own patience is thin on the ground this morning, but I scrape it together, sip my tea and wait. Finally, she asks, “When can I see Smaug’ette?”
This is a minefield. I’m not sure how I feel about it. She’s clearly getting attached to Anders and his pet in a way that couldbe dangerous. Effie can fixate on things and people and get hurt when stuff doesn’t work out. So, I fob her off. “I don’t know, sweetheart. Anders is a very busy man. It may be some time before he’s free.”
Her little face falls. But better a small hurt now than a heart-wrench later.
Although maybe I can use this fascination to resolve our current dilemma. “So, you better eat something now. It would be a shame if you were too faint from lack of food to meet the dragon.”
Eventually she agrees to plain toast with butter spread only when cold and all the way to the edges. Someone once told me I shouldn’t pander to her, but Rob explained why I should ignore that.
“Your daughter finds life far more stressful than other children. Why would you want to add to that load? Save intervening for things that may cause harm.”
“Pick your battles?” I asked.
“Exactly!” he’d said.
And how much does it cost me to cut her toast into fingers, not triangles? Nothing. So now I just do it and damn those who disapprove. The important thing is to get food into her. Those who say she’ll eat when hungry have never met a child like Effie. It’s not that she won’t eat triangles, it’s that she can’t. The same way I can’t eat a spider. There’s nothing physically stopping me and it wouldn’t cause me harm if I did, but I can’t do it. Why should I believe her rules aren’t sensible but mine are?
She doesn’t comment when we arrive at Anders’s car. “What’s its name?” she asks as I fasten her in.
“Smauglette,” I remind her.
“Not the dragon. The car!” I can almost hear the unvoicedSilly!at the end.
“I’m not sure. I forgot to ask.”
