I take a bite of my cake and talk with my mouth full, just to annoy her. ‘Peter. Peter is – was – my type.’ A shower of tiny cake crumbs sprays from my mouth and lands on the table near her mug. She looks at me like I’ve blown my nose in her auburn hair.
‘Peter? After all he’s done?! I despise that man. Actually, we need to have a chat about him—’
‘Oh, I don’t mean him personally but, you know, physically he’s my type. Blond. Tall. Toned. Looks good in tight trousers. Remember this for next time. Actually, fuck that, there won’t be a next time. I trust you both with my life, but to find me a boyfriend? Never again. You’re off the case.’
I see Helen glance at Adam and I know that it’ll be a cold day in hell before she lets that happen. I quickly change the subject. ‘Shall I just leave Grace to sleep here then?’
Helen nods. ‘She wanted to stay here anyway. We didn’t expect to see you till tomorrow. Go and have a nice evening and I’ll send her over after breakfast. Your cat is here, by the way.’
‘There’s a surprise.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Good. If he’s here, then he’s not hiding under my bed, waiting to attack my bare feet. I swear that cat hates me – actually he hates everyone, except Grace. He adores her.’
‘We all do.’ Helen smiles. ‘She’s a pleasure.’
Grace is also very fond of both Helen and Adam, so I shouldn’t grumble as much as I do. They’re such a big help, but sometimes I wish that my very lovely flat wasn’t directly across the hall from theirs. Helen flounces in and out of my place whenever she feels like it – moving shit around and disturbing me when I’m trying to work – but whenever I need her to look after Grace, she’s there and I’m grateful. Peter would rather stick his cock in a blender than help me with additional babysitting.
I place my cup in the sink and say my goodnights. It’s only quarter to ten, but I’m already planning a long, deep bath followed by a gin and tonic and a Hitchcock film. Before I leave, I quietly creep into Grace’s room. The sound of her contented breathing makes my horrendous evening feel much less grim. In the gloom, I see Heisenberg curled up in a white ball beside Grace’s head, guarding over her as he does every evening. I gently move him out of the way and he makes a low growling sound, to which I respond with a similarly hushed, ‘Shut your furry face.’ Sweeping her blonde curls from her face, I lightly kiss her cheek and breathe in her unique smell. She smells beautiful – I can’t help myself; I do it again. She stirs.
‘MUM. Stop it. I can feel your nose-breath on my ear . . .’
‘Sorry, Grace-face. Just wanted to kiss you goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘OK, Mum. We’re making pancakes for breakfast.’
‘Amazing! Go back to sleep.’
‘I’m going to have jam on mine.’
‘Night night, Grace.’
‘If you could be any kind of bear, what would it be?’
‘A polar bear. Now go to sleep.’
‘Night, Mum. Oh, before you go, Uncle Adam farted in the living room and it smelled like doom.’
‘Go back to sleep!’ I laugh, and turn to leave.
She giggles and pulls me back, throwing her arms around me before cuddling up to her teddy and falling back asleep in record time. I close the door behind me, throwing a last ‘fuck you’ look to the devil cat still staring at me through the dark, and then make my way back to my flat, grateful to have the rest of the evening to myself. Unlocking the heavy wooden door, I walk inside . . . followed by Helen.
‘I need a word,’ she whispers, pushing me into the living room.
‘What has Adam done now?’ I ask, draping my favourite green coat over a chair. ‘Is this about his farting?’
She frowns. ‘This isn’t about Adam. It’s about Peter.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake. I was winding you up when I said he was my type.’
‘You don’t still have feelings for him, do you?’
‘No way! He’s Grace’s dad. That’s all. I’m so over all that now.’
‘I really hope so, because he’s getting married.’
I stared at her for a moment in disbelief. ‘What? Fuck off. How do you know this?’ I can feel my face begin to drain of what little colour it has, and my lip starts to tremble. Jesus, I think I’m going to cry.
‘Melanie at work is friends with Emma. She texted me a couple of hours ago.’
I sit down on the arm of the couch and shrug. I’m determined to be grown-up about this. After all, Emma, Peter’s girlfriend, is a nice woman, and despite her ‘mistress of the dark’ exterior, she’s good with Grace. ‘Well, they’ve been together long enough. I guess it was just a matter of time. I wonder when he’ll tell me. He’s going to savour every bloody moment, isn’t he?’
