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  ‘I love brownies,’ Molly says, her mouth full of mushy chips.

  ‘They’re not allowed treats in school,’ I say, my head feeling light already from the wine.

  ‘Can I have a brownie now. Please? Please?’ Molly says, stuffing the last nugget into her mouth without biting.

  ‘There are no brownies, Molly,’ I say.

  ‘Actually,’ Heather says, ‘there might be a little surprise in the fridge.’

  ‘Brownies,’ Molly squeaks, and jumps off her chair to run over to the fridge.

  ‘Only if your mammy says it’s okay,’ Heather says, as Molly flings open the fridge door and it bangs off the wall behind it.

  Molly spins around to look at me with huge, pleading eyes.

  ‘What can I say?’ I shrug.

  ‘I eated up all my dinner.’ Molly points to her empty plate.

  ‘Okay, Molly.’ I smile. ‘But, just one, yeah?’

  ‘There’s some there for us too,’ Heather says, ‘if you fancy some dessert.’

  ‘Nice one,’ Gavin says, his eyes as wide as Molly’s at the mere mention of something sugary and chocolatey.

  Gavin stands up and lifts the plate of brownies out of the fridge for Molly to choose one. He takes one too and leaves the tray down on the countertop next to the cooker.

  ‘C’mon, Molly,’ he says, taking a bite of his. ‘Let’s watch a little telly together before bedtime.’

  ‘Teen Titans Go!?’ Molly says, biting her brownie.

  ‘Definitely.’ Gavin bends and scoops Molly into his arms and she squeals excitedly. ‘Let’s leave Mammy and Heather on their own for a little while.’

  ‘Grown-up talk,’ Molly says as they walk out of the kitchen.

  Gavin glances over his shoulder and nods at Heather and I see her smile back. What the hell?

  ‘More?’ Heather asks, reaching for the wine bottle.

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’

  Heather pulls her hand away from the bottle and doesn’t top up her glass either. I crane my neck towards the utility room door and the thump, thump, clatter that’s coming from the washing machine. I’ve no doubt Molly’s goggles went in the machine and are now being spun around furiously. I’ll probably need to buy her a new pair. Great!

  Heather clears her throat and pushes some food around her plate with her fork. I’m getting ready to stand up and excuse myself when her eyes seek out mine. I notice the dark half-moons under her eyes and her usually dewy skin is pale, except for her flushed cheeks.

  ‘Thank you,’ she says, and there’s an unmissable quiver in her voice.

  I eye up the bottle of wine and wish I’d let Heather pour me another glass.

  ‘I know this can’t be easy for you,’ Heather says.

  I stiffen, unsure where this conversation is going. I grab the wine and pour the remainder of the bottle into my glass.

  ‘It’s not easy for any of us,’ I say, before taking a mouthful.

  ‘I know. But I feel like I’ve come in here, taken over your home…’

  ‘You haven’t taken over my home,’ I say, and I realise that’s more of a warning than a polite reassurance.

  Heather nods and I can tell she realises that too.

  ‘It’s just this baking,’ she says. ‘I know it’s your kitchen and I would normally never—’

  ‘Heather,’ I cut across her, suspecting she’s about to cry and knowing I’m not far from the same. ‘It’s just an oven and some shelf space. The main thing is Kayla. And if this helps, then that’s great.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Heather mouths, and there’s no sound, but the tears she had been doing so well to hold back trickle down her cheeks.

  Eighteen

  Charlotte

  I’m exhausted when I finally flop into bed. Molly was hard work tonight. She was overtired after swimming, but she wouldn’t settle down and close her eyes. I read two stories. Gavin read another and finally we both had to get cross and threaten her with no screen time tomorrow if she didn’t stop getting in and out of bed and running around on the landing.

  ‘What the hell was in those brownies?’ I say, wrapping myself up in the duvet.

  Gavin sticks his head out the door of our ensuite bathroom and pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth. ‘I dunno,’ he says, ‘but they were delicious.’

  ‘They were loaded with sugar,’ I say. ‘That’s why Molly was so hyper. I thought we were never going to get her to sleep.’

  I hear Gavin spit into the sink and the tap runs. He swings the door open wide and the sudden burst of light from the bathroom shines in my face and makes me squint.

  ‘She’s just excited about seeing Kayla soon,’ Gavin says, closing the bathroom door and turning off the light, plunging us into darkness.

  ‘Huh. Sorry, what?’ I say, sitting up dramatically despite the darkness.

  ‘At the hospital,’ Gavin says, and I feel him roll into bed beside me. ‘You know Kayla’s surgery is coming up.’

  ‘Yeah of course,’ I say, trying not to let Gavin hear the worry in my voice.

  ‘Well, Heather thinks it would really cheer Kayla up to see Molly. With Kayla starting chemo straight away, there’s no way of knowing what that will do to her immune system. This really is the best time.’

  ‘When were you going to talk to me about this?’ I ask.

  ‘Charlie, we have talked about this.’ Gavin sighs, and I can hear the exhaustion in his tone. ‘It’s surgery first, then chemo.’

  ‘I mean about Molly visiting the hospital.’ I inhale. It’s so hard not to let my emotion spill.

  ‘Oh,’ Gavin says. ‘Well, we’re talking about this now, aren’t we?’

  ‘No.’ I exhale, and it hangs in the air heavier than I mean it to. ‘This is you making a plan with Heather and filling me in after all the decisions are made. You’ve talked to Heather about this. Not me. Heather.’

  ‘Charlie, I’m sorry,’ Gavin says, and I can’t tell from his voice if he’s frustrated or upset. The darkness isn’t helping. The bed bounces and I know Gavin has turned his back on me. ‘I’ve so much on my mind, I guess I just forgot to mention it before now. But you knew we’d be bringing Molly to see Kayla at some point, obviously.’

  ‘Gavin,’ I say, throwing my legs over the side of the bed to stand up.

  ‘Mmm,’ he says, sleepily.

  I walk across the room with my arms held out in front of me like a zombie as I feel around for the light switch. I flick it on.

  ‘Gavin,’ I repeat, louder this time. ‘Seriously. This isn’t okay. I get that you’re in hell right now. But Molly is our child. Ours. You don’t get to make these decisions without me. Can we talk about this please?’

  ‘Charlie, we just did.’ Gavin turns around, squinting as the light blinds him.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’ Gavin rubs his eyes.

  I glare at my husband, so hurt and infuriated.

  ‘Kayla’s surgery is soon, and Heather and I thought it would be good to get the girls together once Kayla is feeling up to it. Maybe over the weekend,’ Gavin says. ‘Is that okay with you?’

  ‘Heather and you thought.’ I slam my hands onto my hips. ‘Heather. And. You. Thought. Oh, well, that’s just bloody fine then, isn’t it? Because if Heather thinks, then, what the hell does it matter what Charlotte thinks?’

  ‘Charlie, what’s wrong?’ Gavin says, sitting up. ‘You know Molly has been asking questions about Kayla.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I say. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Gavin shakes his head and looks at me confused. It only upsets me more, a hard lump rising in my throat.

  ‘I want you to talk to me, Gavin. That’s what’s wrong. Talk to me. Please. Me!’ I tap my chest. ‘I’m your wife. Not Heather.’

  ‘Charlie…’ Gavin begins but he trails off without saying anything.

  ‘I understand this is awful. I do,’ I say, half-crying, half-apoplectic. ‘Awful for Kayla. Awful for you and Heather as her parents. But it�
�s awful for me too.’

  ‘I know you care about Kayla,’ Gavin begins. ‘I know you love her, too.’

  I know he’s going to steer this in the wrong direction and make this about medicine and operations and fears, so I cut across him.

  ‘It’s awful because you’re cutting me out. And I don’t mean from Kayla’s treatment. I know those decisions are up to you and Heather. I mean you’re cutting me out as your wife.’

  Gavin shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry. That was never my intention.’

  ‘I’ve barely seen you since you got the news. Tonight you even forgot that I don’t eat meat,’ I say. ‘And when I do see you, Heather is with you. I can’t talk with her there. For God’s sake, I can’t even ask you if you’re okay.’

  ‘Yes you can.’ Gavin shakes his head. ‘You can always ask me that, Charlie. Always.’

  ‘No. No, I can’t,’ I say. ‘I’m not comfortable. And now she’s staying here. I mean, I get it, I do. I’m happy that Heather staying in Dublin helps. Honestly, I want to help. I want her to be close to Kayla – to see her all the time. I just…’ I pause to catch my breath and Gavin looks at me so intensely it feels like I might snap in half. ‘I just… I’m overwhelmed. I walked in tonight to find the two of you sharing a romantic dinner for two, for God’s sake.’

  ‘No. C’mon, Charlie.’ Gavin grows very serious. ‘I can’t believe you just said that. That’s not what dinner was at all. You must know that Heather was thrilled about the baking news. She was so stressed out about money before. This was a Godsend. I was happy for her. Jesus.’

  I take some deep breaths and try to calm down. My heart is beating out of my chest and I remember I forgot to eat any dinner. I’m regretting the couple of glasses of wine now as the reeling sensation in my head threatens to topple me over.

  ‘I don’t want Molly to go to the hospital,’ I say, folding my arms across my chest. ‘I’m sorry. But I don’t.’

  ‘What? Why?’ Gavin’s eyes cloud over with disappointment.

  ‘I don’t think it’s good for her. She’s too young to understand.’

  ‘But I told Heather I’d bring Molly in,’ Gavin says.

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t have. Not without checking with me first.’

  ‘I’m checking with you now,’ Gavin grunts, growing angry.

  ‘And I say no.’

  ‘Charlotte, they’re sisters.’

  ‘Half-sisters,’ I correct, immediately hating that I went there. I’ve never gone there.

  Gavin throws the duvet back and stands facing me in just his boxers. ‘They. Are. Sisters.’

  I don’t speak.

  ‘Kayla is sick, Charlie, and all she wants is to see her little sister.’ Gavin sways, a broken man. ‘I don’t care about halves or whose feelings might get hurt. I am bringing my little girl to visit her big sister. They are both my daughters.’

  ‘Gavin… I…’ I trail off. There’s nothing more to say. This isn’t how I wanted this conversation to go. I’m too upset with Gavin and Heather, too worried about Molly, and too terrified for Kayla to even try to make sense of it all.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I ask, as I watch Gavin pull on a tracksuit.

  ‘For a drive,’ Gavin says.

  ‘Heather’s car is parked behind yours. You’re blocked in.’

  ‘Then I’ll take your car.’ Gavin looks at me, his eyes are bloodshot with fury and puffy with hurt. ‘Unless, of course, I need to ask permission for that too?’

  ‘Gavin, c’mon,’ I say. ‘That’s not fair.’

  Gavin shakes his head, walks past me without looking at me and reaches for the door handle. I know he won’t ask Heather to move her car so he can take his. As hurt as he is, I know he wouldn’t let me down that far, but I don’t doubt he’d go out walking instead. He’s wearing all black and the roads into town aren’t the safest at this hour. And he’s too angry and upset to suggest he goes back to bed, and, being honest, I’m too angry and upset to be around him either.

  ‘The keys are on the hall table. Drive safely,’ I say. ‘It’s late.’

  Nineteen

  Heather

  A few days later

  The morning of Kayla’s surgery seems to sneak up on me and now that it’s here it has wrapped itself around my neck and tries to choke me. I’m standing in Gavin’s kitchen in his fancy, expensive house at four o’clock in the morning baking muffins. I could only ever dream of a kitchen like this. A house like this. A life like this. The smell of the muffins is good but the feeling in my stomach is horrendous. This time last week my biggest concern, as I lay in bed, awake at stupid o’clock, was finding the best way to ask my boss for a day off to go to an Ariana Grande concert. I’d bought tickets for myself and Kayla months ago and forgotten about them. If it wasn’t for the reminder on my phone, I’d probably have missed the concert altogether. Now I can’t help but think about how we’re missing it anyway, and I really, really wish it was only because I have bad time management.

  The smell of coconut wafts towards me from the batch of coconut-and-raspberry muffins cooling on the wire rack next to the sink. There’s another tray of cinnamon-and-apple and some orange-chocolate ones too. They’re Kayla’s favourite. She loves chocolate. I stare through the glass on the oven door as I watch a fourth batch rise inside. I doubt the hospital canteen is going to sell this many tomorrow. But, the couple of dozen yesterday weren’t enough and the manager said I’d need more. She didn’t specify exactly how many more was. I’ve taken the liberty of making triple. If the canteen can’t sell them I’ll bring them up to Kayla’s ward. The kids loved them the other day and the staff did too. The manager also didn’t give me permission to bake from home but with Kayla’s surgery happening first thing I need this head start on the day.

  The oven timer buzzes and I shut it off almost instantly, hyper aware of waking anyone upstairs. I slip on Charlotte’s novelty oven glove, which I’m pretty sure she never uses because it’s impossible to grip anything with it, and slide a tray of golden muffins out of the oven. I set them down on the countertop next to all the others and turn off the oven. Exhausted, I slide onto the floor. The cold from the porcelain tiles works its way through my jeans but I don’t budge. I tuck my legs into my chest, and I don’t bother to take off Charlotte’s oven glove as I wrap my arms around my knees and rest my chin on top. If I’m going to get any sleep at all tonight, I’m confident this is the spot.

  My eyes are closed and I’m drifting somewhere between cinnamon, apple and chocolate when I hear footsteps approaching. I pull myself to my feet and pretend to clean as someone opens the kitchen door behind me.

  ‘Heather,’ a little voice whispers.

  I turn around to find Molly bare foot and bleary-eyed in My Little Pony jammies behind me.

  ‘Something smells yummy,’ she says.

  I swallow hard as I look at the pretty little girl looking up at me with huge, oval blue eyes. Kayla used to look at me with the same eyes when she was little. Kayla and Molly also share cheekbones and a nose. But Molly’s smile is all her mother’s and so is her curious nature.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Molly asks.

  ‘I’m baking,’ I say. ‘I’m going to sell these muffins at the hospital tomorrow.’

  ‘The hostable where Kayla is asleep?’ Molly asks, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ I nod.

  ‘Why does Kayla sleep at the hostable?’ Molly asks.

  I take a deep breath and look at the little girl who reminds me so much of a time gone by. I wonder what Gavin has told her about Kayla getting sick. Or what Charlotte has mentioned. I don’t know what to say.

  I puff out and smile. ‘Kayla isn’t feeling very well.’

  ‘Does she have a pain in her tummy?’

  I take a deep breath. I’d forgotten how simplistic life at four can be. It’s lovely to remember. Hard. But lovely. ‘It’s not her tummy, Molly,’ I say. ‘Kayla has a problem with her knee.’

  ‘Did she fall?’
Molly asks, rubbing her eyes.

  I can see her little legs grow tired. I bend and pause, smiling. Molly reaches her arms up, ready for me to lift her. I scoop her into my arms and swing her onto the worktop.

  ‘Yes, Molly,’ I say, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. ‘Kayla did fall. In school.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Molly says, her eyes wide with concern. ‘Did she cry? I cry when I fall.’

  I take a deep breath as I struggle to keep it together.

  ‘I know you think Kayla is all grown-up,’ I say. ‘But she’s really just a kid, like you.’

  Molly shakes her head and laughs.

  ‘She is,’ I nod, enthusiastically. Anxious to explain. ‘She’s just a kid. And sometimes kids fall or get sick and the grown-ups get very worried about them.’

  ‘Are you worried about Kayla?’ Molly asks, and I wonder if she truly understands the question.

  ‘I don’t like that she’s sick, Molly,’ I try to explain as best I can.

  ‘Does she need some Calpol?’ Molly points to the cupboard above the fridge. ‘Mammy gives me Calpol when I get sick. And it’s yummy.’

  ‘That is a good idea, Molly,’ I smile. ‘But I don’t think Calpol will help this time. I think the doctors have special medicine for Kayla.’

  Molly nods.

  ‘Do you understand, Molly?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes,’ Molly nods again, smiling and satisfied with my answer. ‘Can I have a muffin now?’

  ‘At this hour of the morning, you most certainly cannot,’ Charlotte says.

  I cringe. I didn’t hear Charlotte come into the kitchen behind us. I wonder how long she’s been there. How long she’s been listening to Molly’s questions and my efforts to answer.

  ‘Molly Doran do you think there is somewhere you should be?’ Charlotte asks.

  ‘In bed,’ Molly whispers.

  ‘Yes! In bed,’ Charlotte says with her hands on her hips. ‘C’mon now. Lickety split please?’

  Molly’s eyes glass over and I’m sure she’s about to cry. I place my hands on her hips, give a little nod so she’s ready, and swing her down from the shelf.