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Heather shakes her head. ‘I don’t think Kayla is up to visitors today, Molly. I’m sorry. She’s just very sleepy.’
‘So we can’t play?’ Molly’s face falls.
‘Not today, Molly,’ Heather says.
‘But I want to play,’ Molly shouts, and Kayla stirs.
‘Shh. Shh,’ Heather says, leaning forward to stroke Kayla’s hair.
I bend to come down to Molly’s level. ‘Molly, we have to whisper when someone is sleeping. You know that.’
Heather looks at me crossly as I straighten. Then she glares at Molly. I’m not sure what more she wants me to say.
‘I’m really sorry.’ Heather exhales, standing up and ushering us towards the door. ‘You’ve had a wasted trip. But Kayla is just too sick today. Maybe come back another time.’
‘But I don’t want to go home,’ Molly begins to cry.
I scoop Molly into my arms and she nestles her face into my neck. ‘I want to play with Kayla,’ she sobs.
‘We’ll be back again another day, Heather,’ I say. I don’t mean it to sound as threatening as it does, I was just really looking forward to seeing Kayla.
‘Okay. Thanks.’ Heather smiles and closes the door behind us.
I’m reeling as I put Molly down and her small, chubby fingers wrap around my hand.
‘I’m really sorry, sweetheart. I know you wanted to spend some time with Kayla.’
Molly doesn’t reply. She sniffles and drags the sleeve of her coat under her nose.
‘I know,’ I say, trying hard to sound chirpy. ‘There’s a shop downstairs. Did you see it when we came in?’
Molly nods.
‘I bet they sell lollipops.’ I pull a silly face and hope I can extract a smile from my daughter.
It works. Molly grins and says, ‘Strawbee?’
‘Let’s go find out.’ I swing Molly’s hand back and forth as we skip away together.
TWENTY-NINE
CHARLOTTE
It takes forever to get home in evening traffic. Molly is asleep in the back of the car when I finally pull into the driveway.
I turn off the engine and flop my head back against the headrest. I’ve only closed my eyes for a second when there’s the tap of a nail against my window.
I open my eyes and sit up straighter.My nosey neighbour!I groan inwardly as I reluctantly lower the window.
‘Hello, Trish.’
‘Hey, Charlotte. I hope this is a good time.’
‘A good time for what?’
‘A quick chat,’ Trish says, with an irritating grin that tells me she knows full well there’s never a good time for one of her interfering chats.
I twist my head over my shoulder to check the back seat. ‘Actually, Trish. Molly’s asleep so?—’
