At the end of two hours, Effie is wilting. We find a café and Anders fetches ice cream. Effie's choice is vanilla. It's always vanilla. The adults opt for coffee too. Effie has apple juice.
Anders is not stupid. I'm sure he's aware the whole day is a million little tests. Will he insist on seeing the famous sights, like he's collecting stamps, or will he go with the flow? Will he try to talk her into a more adventurous ice cream flavour, or will he accept her choice? Will he prioritise attention to me and my happiness, or will he realise that I'm happiest when my daughter is enjoying herself?
Anders passes them all. He doesn't try to kiss me when Effie isn't looking, nor pull me into a darkened alcove for a quick touch somewhere inappropriate. Nor, I'm pleased to see, doeshe split his time between his phone and us. There is only one moment when he takes his phone out of his pocket.
“It's my mom,” he says. “Give me a second.” He takes a few steps away, answers the call, and returns within the minute. A man who always answers the phone to his mum.Tick, tick, tick.I can only presume he has his own list. But I’ve not the slightest idea how well I’m doing. Perhaps I’m falling at every hurdle.
We finish up in the café and make our way back to the underground station. Our departure is the reverse of our arrival — except this time, when he leans in for a kiss, his hand slides along my waist and his fingertips land on my spine. I can feel the heat of them through my thin summer dress. I want them to stay there. But Effie takes my hand and starts to tug me into the station.
On the train, she sits on my lap, her foot shaking. “I like the museum,” she says. “Can we go again?”
“Maybe after summer,” I suggest. It’s always good to set her expectations. She nods.
“I like Anders. Can we see him again?” Her priorities are amusing.
“Maybe. He works a lot. He doesn’t get much time for fun.”
“That’s sad.” She chews her bottom lip. “Everyone needs fun. Maybe we can help him have fun? It’s good to help friends.”
If she only knew the type of fun Anders would like most.
I wait until Effie is in bed before I send Anders a message of thanks. The phone rings immediately.
“No, thanks necessary. I had fun.” He’s lying on his sofa, his shirt rucked up, one arm behind his head.
“Really?”
He laughs. “Not a fan of giant spiders?”
I shudder. “No.”
“Would it be better if we went somewhere else next time? What about tomorrow? We could do a picnic and the zoo?”
“I think you need to learn to pace yourself. At the rate you’re going, you’re going to burn out. Treats should be drip-fed.”
“But I want to do it all. I loved being a kid. Being a parent must be like getting to do it all over again, but this time you remember it better.”
“Those are some powerful rose-coloured glasses you’ve got there. Being a parentislike doing it all again, only this time you get to pay for it.”
“Maybe. But I still want to see you tomorrow.”
“Just a picnic, then,” I say because I want to see him too. Badly. “How are you finding all this time to play hookey?”
“I’m not sleeping much,” he admits, although I guess I knew it. The pace at Cerium at the moment is relentless. Almost everyone is working late. And he’s the boss. He works even later.
“I’ll let you go, then. I don’t want to distract you.”
“I’d kinda like it if you did.”
I suck in a breath. Is he angling for phone sex? Surely, that’s too soon. Please let it be too soon. I mean, we’ve never even seen each other naked. And what do you do for phone sex? Do you dress up? Do you take turns? What are the rules?
“But you’ve got stuff to do.” I hold my breath, panicking.
“I guess,” he says. I let my breath out.
Looking at my pile of ironing, I sigh. “Honestly? So do I.”
There are always household jobs that can only be done when Effie is in bed. So instead of disgracing myself with inept phone sex, I make the arrangements for tomorrow and disconnect. There’s no playful,you hang up, no, you. We’ve both got things to do. And besides, neither of us is sixteen.
