Page 29 of All Our Missing Pieces

‘My mommy isn’t coming back,’ Slate sobbed, turning over and looking at Beatrice with wide, swimming eyes.

What the fuck? she thought. But she said, ‘Slate. Of course your mommy’s coming back. She texted me just an hour ago. She’ll be home just after eight o’clock. She’s just late at work.’

Slate shook his head, not buying it. ‘Mommy isn’t coming back.’

‘Honey.’ Beatrice kept her voice as calm as she could. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘It’s Dylan,’ Slate managed between sobs.

‘Dylan at pre-school? The new boy who you were going to be friends with? Did he say something to you about your mommy?’

If he did, I’ll give the little bastard the telling-off of his life, she vowed, although she had no idea what she would actually do.

‘His mommy gave him away and now he’s adopted.’ It took Slate a few goes, but eventually he got the words out.

Oh God. Not this. Beatrice felt as if cold water was being dripped down her spine.

‘Slate,’ she said calmly. ‘You know how that works, right? Sometimes a mommy and daddy can’t have babies of their own, so they have to⁠—’

She stopped, her mind racing. There was a right thing to say here, appropriate words to use – she just had to remember them.

‘They get to be mommy and daddy to someone else’s baby. Someone who loved their baby very much but couldn’t look after them. That’s what happened to Dylan. But it won’t happen to you.’

‘Why, Bibi?’ He looked at her, his eyes wide and doubtful. ‘Our mommy can’t look after me and Parker and that’s why we’ve got you.’

‘Slate, that’s completely different!’ She paused. I’ve got to get this right or I’m screwed.

‘Your mommy and daddy both have big, important jobs. That’s so you can all have nice things, and also so they can do things they love, that make a difference in the world.’

Quite how marketing two-thousand-dollar handbags or betting on the yen versus peso exchange rate made the world a better place, Beatrice wasn’t sure. But that was definitely not an issue that needed covering in Adoption 101.

Slate was looking at her intently as she continued. ‘And so that they can do that, they have to have someone looking after you when you’re not at school,’ she went on. ‘And that someone is me. And I’m so blessed to have such great kids to be a nanny to, but you’ll never be my kids. Not the way Dylan is his mommy’s, or you your mommy’s.’

Slate looked unconvinced. But at least he’d stopped crying – for now.

‘When a baby’s adopted, it’s different,’ she carried on, now totally feeling as if she was making it up as she went along. ‘Grown-ups know – often before the baby’s even born – that their mommy won’t be able to keep them. Sometimes they don’t have a daddy, or the daddy’s not around. Not like yours, who’s around every single day. Right?’

Slate nodded slowly. Then he asked, ‘What if their real mommy does want to keep them though?’

She doesn’t, Beatrice thought. Not really. Not enough, anyway. She just wants a problem dealt with.

But she thrust the thought aside.

‘All mothers love their babies,’ she said as brightly as she could. ‘They always want to keep them, but sometimes they just can’t. Maybe they try and it doesn’t work out. But everyone’s looking out for what’s best for the baby, so they can grow up with a family that loves them, the way you and Parker are.’

‘So I’m not going to be adopted?’ Slate asked.

Beatrice felt tension she hadn’t realised was there slacken across her shoulders. ‘You are not. I one hundred per cent guarantee it.’

Please let this be the end of it, she pleaded silently.

But Slate wasn’t done with her yet. ‘How do you know?’

Beatrice pulled him closer, squeezing his small body against hers. Her hand had gone to sleep from his weight on her arm.

I’ve got one card left to play, she thought, then I’m damn well giving him chocolate buttons and hoping he forgets all about this nonsense. Only she really, really didn’t want to play it.

What does it matter? He can only tell Frances, and she knows anyway. Or say something to this Dylan kid, and who cares what he thinks?