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‘It’s. Not. Fun,’ Molly repeats as I duck my head out of her room again and hurry across the landing to the guest room.
Curling my fingers around the handle of the closed door feels weird, as if I’m intruding in my own house, and I pause. I know what’s on the far side of this door off by heart. I traipsed all over the city when I was seven months pregnant with Molly to find the perfect duvet cover to match the curtains I’d fallen in love with weeks prior. I stripped back the antique chest of drawers and painstakingly re-varnished it. Yet I can’t help feeling I shouldn’t open this door. Not right now. Suddenly the space on the far side of it feels as if it belongs to Heather and not to me. I shouldn’t impose.
‘Mr Glow Bear isn’t working!’ Molly’s cry carries across the hall.
Knowing Molly has been plunged into complete darkness, I turn the handle and charge inside the guest bedroom. I make a beeline for the bedside table hoping that’s where Heather would keep any spare lighters. I’m right and I’m delighted when I find a black lighter with the Guinness logo printed across the side. I grab the lighter and am turning to leave when I’m distracted by a letter underneath it with Molly’s name in italic font on the first line. I shine my phone over the paper for closer inspection. There’s a book resting in the centre of theletter, hiding most of the words, but I can clearly see the hospital logo in the top left-hand corner.
I’m lifting the book out of the way when Molly’s crying becomes more distressed.
‘Mammy, where are you?’ Molly cries. ‘It’s too scary.’
‘I’m here, sweetheart,’ I shout back.
‘Where? I can’t see you?’
My eyes sweep the paper. Kayla’s treatment. Molly. Donor. Stem cell.Match!
‘Maaammmyyy.’ Molly’s crying shifts to a distressed shriek. ‘There’s a monster. Help. Help.’
I slam the book back down on the letter and march out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind me.
‘I’m here, sweetheart,’ I say, hurrying into Molly’s room. ‘I’m here.’
‘Quick. Quick, Mammy,’ Molly says. ‘He’s under my bed.’
‘There’s no monster, Molly,’ I say, the battery on my phone finally giving up.
Molly gulps. ‘He’s here. See, I told you.’ She can barely draw breath between her sobs. ‘I want Daddy.’
‘Okay. C’mon,’ I say, feeling my way to Molly’s bed in the darkness.
I feel the mattress against my leg and I pat my way along the edge, shuffling forward. I smile instinctively when Molly’s chubby arms reach out to me and I guide them around my neck as I lift her out of bed.
‘I’m here, Molly,’ I whisper. ‘I’m always here.’
I pull my little girl close to me and I can feel her rushed breath and rapid heartbeat.
‘I don’t like it,’ Molly says, tucking her head into the crook of my neck, guided by instinct.
I clutch the Guinness lighter tight in my fist and I can’t stop thinking about why Heather has a letter with my daughter’s name on it hidden in her room. I march towards the bathroom with blind determination, with Molly still cradled in my arms, and seek out the three-wick candle on the windowsill and light it.
‘Look, Molly,’ I say, drawing her attention to the burning light. ‘There are definitely no monsters here.’
‘When is Daddy coming back?’ Molly whimpers, not lifting her head off my shoulder and holding me extra tightly.
Molly’s words cut me like a knife.Coming back?Gavin hasn’t left us. He comes home every night. He kisses and hugs her in her sleep. But Molly has no idea. To Molly, Daddy’s been gone a long time. My heart aches.
‘Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?’ I ask.
‘Are you scared of monsters, too?’ Molly asks, finally lifting her head.
‘Yeah,’ I nod. ‘I guess I am.’
‘Okay.’ Molly pats the top of my head with both her hands in turn. ‘I’ll sleep in your bed. You don’t need to be scared, Mammy. You have me.’
‘I do, Molly, don’t I?’ I say, suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of not having her. The thought Heather must face every day.
THIRTY-FIVE
