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“Hello, Kiara.”
When her attention is back on Tilly, I follow them inside, closing the door behind me. While Tilly is occupied with an array of new toys, I sit down in the living room in one of the oversized plush leather chairs. Heather brings in some coffee and cake. I help myself to a slice and thank her for the coffee.
“She loves her new toys,” I comment in an effort to make conversation.
“Yes, I hate to see the poor thing missing out,” Heather replies, lifting her cup to her mouth. My grip on my own cup tightens as I try not to react to what I’m sure is another dig at my lack of financial security.
“Have you thought about taking her in to see Aiden?” She asks the question so innocently that it makes me want to scream. She knows very well that won’t be happening and she also knows damn well why.
“I’ve told you before, she doesn’t cope seeing him like that,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “If it’s going to harm her, I refuse to do it.”
“She’s probably scared because
she never sees him,” Heather presses. “If she saw him more, maybe she’d get used to the way he is.”
The way he is?
“She saw him for months every week and things got progressively worse,” I point out. “I’m sorry, but until she’s ready…” I shrug, not sure what else I can say.
Tilly was seeing Aiden regularly up until she was four because I thought forcing her to visit him was the best thing for her. She went from being a happy, free spirited little girl to an angry, resentful shell of her former self. The nightmares were the worst, where she’d wake up screaming about Aiden. After countless visits with psychologists and doctors, we decided it was best for her to not force her to see Aiden.
Heather excuses herself, mumbling something about spending time with Tilly. I sit there, my head resting against my hand, glad for a moment of peace. Heather is hard work. Every week, we go over the same things. She just doesn’t give up.
I watch through the window as Tilly plays with a hot pink Frisbee while Heather waters the garden. When it comes time to leave, I’m relieved. Maybe what I need to do is give her and Till more space together. I happily leave Tilly at Ellie’s, why not at her Gran’s too? Maybe that will get Heather of my back for a few minutes.
The fact that my own parents live s far away and travel so much means communication with them is limited. She loves speaking to Nan and Gramps, but the conversations are few and far between. Take now, for example, my parents are a third of the way into a three-month cruise around the Mediterranean.
As we’re leaving, I turn back to Heather.
“Would you like to have Tilly stay over sometime?” I suggest. “She can come over after school on a Friday and I can pick her up on the Saturday.”
“I’d love that,” Heather says, her face lighting up. “Thank you.”
“I’m sure she’d enjoy it as much as you,” I smile.
***
My phone rings the second I exit Tilly’s room. Ellie’s name flashes on the screen as I curse myself for not putting it on silent. Pressing answer, I close the door and then tiptoe down the hallway to the living room.
“Sorry, I just put Till to bed,” I say, yawning.
“You sound tired,” she observes. “I won’t keep you, I just want to know if you want to go out for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Sure. Who’s going to look after the kids?” I ask, brushing my hair out of my eyes. I’m so tired I can barely manage standing as I make my way down to my bedroom.
“Grant can,” Ellie replies.
I let out a giggle, the image of Grant trying to wrangle Tilly and Cassie into bed flashing through my mind. “Okay, just let me know where and when. Nowhere too expensive, though, considering I’m now unemployed,” I add, my tone dry.
“My treat, okay? Gotta go, love you, see you tomorrow.” She hangs up before I can protest.
I drop my phone on the night table and undress. I don’t bother with my usual pajamas, jumping under the covers instead. As I snuggle into the blankets trying to warm myself, I think about how lucky I am to have Ellie and Grant. I swear they think about me more than they do themselves.
Sighing, I close my eyes, no longer fighting to keep them open.
The urge to sleep is too strong to resist.
Chapter Four
