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  ‘Your mam’s right, Molly,’ I say. ‘It’s a little too late for a muffin right now, but how about taking one to school tomorrow instead?’

  ‘Really?’ Molly’s eyes brighten.

  ‘If that’s okay with your mam.’ I look at Charlotte, conscious that I’m treading on very thin ice.

  ‘Unfortunately, the school has a strict healthy-eating policy,’ Charlotte says sternly and the explanation is clearly for me and not Molly. ‘No treats allowed, except on Fridays.’

  ‘Oh.’ I swallow, remembering.

  Molly sighs and drags herself sluggishly towards the door.

  ‘But…’ Charlotte exhales loudly. ‘Maybe we won’t be going to school tomorrow.’

  Molly spins around, suddenly animated and giddy.

  ‘Okay, missy,’ Charlotte says. ‘That’s enough excitement for one night. We’ll talk about this more in the morning.’

  ‘But I don’t have to go to school?’ Molly bounces on the spot.

  ‘No.’ Charlotte shakes her head.

  ‘And I can have a muffin?’ Molly grins.

  ‘Yes.’ Charlotte smiles.

  ‘And I can see Kayla?’ Molly adds.

  My heart races.

  ‘Molly,’ Charlotte says, serious and stern. ‘It really is bedtime now. I said we can talk in the morning. Not tonight. In the morning.’

  ‘So, I can see Kayla?’ Molly’s head nods to complement her bouncing.

  ‘Molly. Bed.’ Charlotte sighs.

  ‘But it’s scary all by my own,’ Molly says, suddenly still.

  ‘Okay,’ Charlotte says. ‘Go upstairs and climb into bed with Daddy. He’s asleep, so can you please be careful not to wake him? I’ll be up soon.’

  ‘Okay,’ Molly says, instantly chirpy again as if someone flicked a switch on her mood.

  I take a deep breath as Charlotte and I watch Molly leave the kitchen, neglecting to close the door behind her.

  ‘Daddy,’ Molly calls at the top of her voice ascending the stairs. ‘Daddy. I’m coming. Daddy.’

  I muffle a laugh at Molly’s ability to royally misconstrue Charlotte’s idea of silence and wait for Charlotte to turn around and tell me off over the whole muffin thing.

  Charlotte waits until we hear voices upstairs before she closes the door and turns around. She looks me up and down without words and makes her way to the table.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I forgot the school’s eating policy was so strict. I never would have…’ I trail off, doubting Charlotte is listening.

  Charlotte pulls a chair out from under the table and somehow manages not to make a sound. She sits.

  A stagnant silence hangs between us for way too long and I wonder if I should start boxing up muffins so I can clean her kitchen, or join her at the table, or just piss off out of the kitchen entirely.

  ‘So, can I have one or what?’ Charlotte eventually says.

  ‘A muffin,’ I gasp, hating how startled I sound.

  ‘Is there a cinnamon one? I smell cinnamon, right?’ Charlotte elongates her neck and sniffs.

  ‘Yeah. Yes there is. Apple and cinnamon, actually.’

  ‘Will you have one, too?’ Charlotte asks. ‘I don’t want to sit here like a plonker scoffing a muffin on my own.’

  ‘Eh, yeah. I don’t usually eat when I’m baking. Always afraid if I start I won’t be able to stop. But sure. Why not? Will I stick the kettle on too? For coffee.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Charlotte nods. ‘But tea for me. I won’t sleep a wink after coffee.’

  ‘Okay,’ I smile. ‘Tea and muffins at 4 a.m. it is.’

  Another silence descends. It’s still awkward but it’s bearable. The kettle rattles and hums as the water begins to boil and I slide a still-hot cinnamon-and-apple muffin onto one plate and place a coconut-and-raspberry one onto another. I open the drawer next to the cooker and take out a couple of knives. I make a tea and a coffee and shake my head, wondering what the hell I am doing. Charlotte doesn’t look over, despite me taking over her kitchen. I place everything on a tray I spotted resting behind the knife block and carry it over to the table.

  ‘Muffins.’ I swallow, setting the tray down in the centre of the table.

  Charlotte finally looks at me as I reach for her cup of tea.

  ‘Sit down, Heather,’ she says, and I wonder if she means for it to sound like an order.

  I sit.

  Charlotte does the dishing out. Coffee and muffin for me. Tea and muffin for her. She gets the muffins right, which is impressive. And then she sits back, watches me and folds her arms. Jesus this is horrendous. I find myself glad that Molly has woken Gavin and I hope he’ll come downstairs to rescue me.

  ‘So, how’s the baking business going?’ Charlotte says.

  ‘Good, yeah.’ I nod overly enthusiastically. ‘They didn’t have enough muffins the other day so I’ve made more.’

  ‘I see that,’ Charlotte says, glancing over her shoulder at her kitchen countertops strewn with trays of cooling muffins.

  ‘I might have got a little carried away,’ I say.

  ‘Hmm.’ Charlotte smiles sympathetically and if it wasn’t for the look in her eyes that says, I wish you’d get out of my house, I might actually relax.

  Another silence descends, thankfully broken by Gavin’s deep voice and Molly’s happy giggles, muffled as they rain down on us through the floorboards overhead.

  ‘So, Molly’s not going to school tomorrow?’ I say, slicing through my muffin.

  ‘No,’ Charlotte says stiffly.

  I stuff some muffin into my mouth and wonder why I’m the only one eating, since this whole middle-of-the-night muffin binge was Charlotte’s idea.

  ‘The school called today,’ Charlotte says, lifting her cup to her lips.

  ‘Molly’s school?’ I say, realising these muffins are a little too dry as they stick to my teeth.

  ‘Um-hmm.’ Charlotte takes a mouthful of tea. ‘Apparently some boy in her class has been teasing her about Kayla.’

  ‘About Kayla,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah,’ Charlotte says. ‘This kid is a little brat at the best of times, he’s hit Molly with Lego bricks and pushed her before, but this is a new low.’

  ‘What did he say?’ I ask.

  Charlotte lowers her cup, and I don’t miss the tears that smear across her eyes. ‘Nothing. Nothing in particular. Just, he’s a nasty little boy. And if he thinks Molly is upset he’ll use it against her.’

  I know Charlotte is lying. It’s the same kind of lie I told Kayla the other day when she asked if everything would be okay and I answered with an unequivocal yes.

  ‘You’re worried that if Molly visits Kayla she will believe whatever nonsense this little boy is saying?’ I say, realising.

  Charlotte nods.

  I nod too. I look at the muffin on my plate. The thought of another bite makes me feel sick.

  ‘Does Molly know?’ I ask. ‘About how sick Kayla really is.’

  ‘She’s four,’ Charlotte says.

  ‘But she knows Kayla is in hospital,’ I say. ‘She told me. Just now.’

  ‘She doesn’t even know what a hospital is.’ Charlotte slices into her muffin and her knife scratches against the plate with a frustrated squeak.

  A shiver runs down my spine.

  ‘Kayla has been asking to see her,’ I say.

  Charlotte nods. ‘I know.’

  ‘Gavin told you,’ I say.

  ‘Yes. He did.’

  ‘And?’

  Charlotte shrugs. ‘What would you do?’ she says. ‘If you were me. If the shoe was on the other foot. What would you do?’

  I pick up my coffee and the warm, familiar smell comforts me. ‘Honestly?’ I say, before taking a long, dramatic sip. ‘I have no idea.’

  Charlotte sighs.

  ‘But,’ I continue, lowering the cup and stuffing another huge chunk of muffin into my mouth realising it’s the first time I’ve eating since morning. ‘We’re thinking about this like adults. Like mothe
rs. And we’re both just trying to protect our child as best we can.’

  ‘Yes. Exactly.’ Charlotte’s eyes soften. ‘We are.’

  ‘Kayla and Molly are just kids,’ I say. ‘Kids who want to see each other. I think we’d probably feel differently if we thought about it from their side.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Charlotte says, taking a bite of her muffin for the first time. ‘That’s what Gavin said. They’re sisters.’

  ‘They are,’ I say.

  ‘Oh. My. God,’ Charlotte says with wide eyes and a mouth full of muffin. ‘This is delicious. I mean, actually amazing.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I smile.

  Charlotte takes another bite. And another.

  ‘Molly isn’t going to school tomorrow.’ Charlotte shrugs, chewing. ‘She is going to see her sister after her operation.’

  ‘Thank you. I know this isn’t easy for you, Charlotte, but I just…’ I begin, but Charlotte shakes her head and I close my mouth.

  ‘This is about Kayla and Molly,’ Charlotte says, polishing off the muffin. ‘Sisters. That’s all. I’m not doing this for Gavin. Or for you. Or even for me. It’s for the girls.’

  ‘As it should be,’ I say, looking at Charlotte’s empty plate. ‘And, do you want another muffin?’

  ‘Yes.’ Charlotte nods. ‘Yes. I do.’

  Twenty

  Charlotte

  I open the door and press the button on Molly’s car seat.

  ‘She can do that herself now,’ Gavin says. ‘Can’t you Molly?’

  ‘Um-hmm.’ Molly grins, proudly.

  ‘Really?’ I say, wondering how Gavin can think it’s a good idea to teach Molly to unbuckle herself. What if she does it while I’m driving?

  ‘I don’t think Mammy knows how grown-up you are getting, Molly,’ Gavin says.

  My tummy somersaults. I know Gavin is trying to keep the atmosphere light but Molly is little more than a baby. My baby. Gavin’s phone rings as I lift Molly out of the car.

  ‘We’ve had to park in the overflow car park. Where is Kayla?’ Gavin asks. ‘Okay. We’ll be up in a minute.’

  ‘Where are they?’ I ask, my palms staring to sweat. ‘Molly, don’t run off. There are cars reversing. You need to be careful.’

  Molly pulls a face. ‘I was just checking where the hostable is,’ she tells me with her hands on her hips.

  ‘Kayla is back on the ward, and doing well,’ Gavin says.

  ‘Oh thank God for that.’ I exhale, realising I’ve been holding my breath. ‘Let’s get going.’

  I reach for Molly’s hand and she skips along happily beside me.

  ‘Clip-clop. Clip-clop,’ she says, copying the noise of my wedges hitting the ground.

  ‘Molly, stop that, please,’ I say. ‘I can’t hear myself think.’

  ‘Clip-clop. Clip-clop,’ Molly whispers. ‘Clip-clop. Clip-clop.’

  ‘Molly, for goodness’ sake,’ I snap, my head pounding. ‘I said stop it.’

  Molly’s eyes cloud over and her bottom lip quivers. I feel awful.

  ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ I say, coming to a standstill so I can bend down and hug her. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I just need you to be a very good girl today. Okay?’

  ‘I am a good girl,’ Molly says.

  ‘Yes. You are,’ Gavin says, placing his hand on my back and I can feel him shaking. ‘You’re a very good girl, Molly.’

  I straighten and look away for a moment, taking some deep breaths. I don’t want Gavin to see how rattled I am. He has enough on his plate. I need to stay strong.

  ‘C’mon, Charlie. It’s okay,’ he says, rubbing my back. ‘Molly just doesn’t understand. That’s all.’

  ‘I know. I know.’ I nod, hating this feeling. I have no right to take my worries out on Molly, especially when it’s her I’m so worried about. ‘I’m sorry, Molly.’

  The overflow car park is ridiculously far from the main building and I’ve no doubt Molly’s legs are growing tired. Gavin must be thinking the same because just as I’m about to bend down to pick her up, her scoops her into his arms and kisses her cheek.

  ‘Nearly there,’ he says.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ Molly says.

  ‘I know.’ Gavin sighs. ‘Me too. We’ll get lunch after we see the doctor, okay?’

  ‘I still don’t know why she had to fast since midnight,’ I say, struggling to hide my frustration in front of Molly. ‘It’s crazy expecting a small child to understand. They really should have given us a morning appointment.’

  ‘Well, we’re here now,’ Gavin says. ‘And you’re all ready, Molly, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Molly nods, certain, and my heart pinches knowing she has no understanding of what is going on.

  ‘You’re going to be a big brave girl today, aren’t you?’ Gavin chokes and I can tell he’s struggling. I can only imagine how hard this is for him.

  Molly reaches her chubby arms around Gavin and rubs his shoulders the way she’s seen me do countless times. ‘There. Is that any better?’ she says, copying the words I use.

  ‘Oh, Molly,’ Gavin whispers, barely able to form words. ‘What would I do without you?’

  ‘Daddy, don’t squeezy me so tight. Your scratchy bits are yucky,’ Molly protests as she points at Gavin’s woollen jumper. And for the first time in a while I hear Gavin laugh.

  ‘C’mon, Charlie. We can do this,’ Gavin says, draping an arm over my shoulder as he holds Molly in the other. ‘We just have to keep it together.’

  ‘Yes, Daddy,’ Molly says. ‘Keep it together.’

  Gavin laughs again. Louder this time. I laugh too. But Molly shakes her head and makes a face, clearly unimpressed.

  Gavin puts Molly down as we reach the main door and our little girl seems full of renewed energy as her curious eyes sweep over the large old building.

  ‘It’s huger than my school,’ she announces. ‘And there’s magic doors too. Like the ones at the shops.’

  ‘Magic doors?’ Gavin asks.

  ‘Automatic doors,’ I say, quickly. ‘Remember when Molly was afraid of the doors at the supermarket?’

  ‘’Cos they might eat me,’ Molly adds, reaching for my hand, suddenly much less enthusiastic about a big building.

  ‘They won’t eat you,’ I say. ‘Magic doors aren’t scary. They just open wide so you can go inside.’

  ‘’Cos they’re magic,’ Molly says, and I’m not sure if she’s telling Gavin or reminding herself.

  ‘Ah. I see.’ Gavin nods. ‘Magic doors. Well, should I go first?’

  Molly nods squeezing my hand as we follow Gavin.

  ‘It’s stinky,’ she says, scrunching her nose at the intense smell of antiseptic as soon as we step inside. ‘Hostable smells like the toilet.’

  ‘Molly, shh,’ I say, as Gavin leads us towards reception. ‘Don’t be rude.’

  We pass a packed waiting area of children and their parents waiting outside A&E. There aren’t many teenagers. I only notice one boy about Kayla’s age slouched in his chair. He’s scrolling through his phone while pressing a blooded cloth against his elbow. I assume it’s deep. The poor kid will probably need stitches. But then he will be fine. I can’t take my eyes off him, wishing that Kayla was in his shoes. Wishing that Kayla’s problem was a messy sports injury and one day soon she’ll be as good as new.

  ‘Mammy, look, look,’ Molly calls, pointing at the teenager. ‘He’s all bleedy.’

  ‘Molly, stop that. Pointing is rude,’ I say, hoping the boy won’t notice.

  ‘But look.’ Molly tugs on the sleeve of my top. ‘His arm is all bleedy. He’s going to die.’

  ‘Molly, he’s not going to die,’ I whisper, taking her hand and leading her to the side. ‘Lots of people come to the hospital to get better.’ I force a smile trying to be reassuring.

  ‘Like Kayla,’ Molly says.

  My breath catches and I can feel my face fall before I answer. ‘Yes,’ I say, lifting Molly into my arms so I can feel the warmth of her little body c
lose to me. ‘Like Kayla. There are lots and lots of doctors and nurses working here. It’s their job to help Kayla. Look, there’s a doctor right now, doesn’t he look helpful?’

  I point at a doctor in scrubs.

  ‘It’s rude to point, Mammy,’ Molly reminds me.

  ‘Oh, Molly.’

  ‘Why is he wearing his jammies?’ Molly asks, scrunching her eyes trying to get a better look. ‘I like his blue jammies but I like my unicorn jammies better.’

  Molly’s innocence lifts me. ‘C’mon,’ I say, leading Molly back towards the reception desk. ‘Let’s see if Daddy is ready.’

  ‘Tell her Kayla is my sister,’ Molly says, jumping up and down trying to see the receptionist behind the high counter.

  ‘Molly, shh.’ I place my finger over my lip. ‘Daddy is talking.’

  ‘Do we just go through these doors, then?’ Gavin points.

  ‘Pointing is rude, Daddy,’ Molly says, still jumping.

  ‘Molly please,’ I say, placing my hand on her shoulder to steady her. ‘This is important.’

  ‘Yes. And then take a left. The lifts are right there,’ the receptionist says, but her directions wash over me making little sense. ‘There will be someone there to meet you and talk you through the test.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Gavin says.

  ‘Bye-bye, sweetheart,’ the lady says, waving at Molly. ‘You’re a very brave girl.’

  ‘I can’t wait to see Kayla,’ Molly says. ‘I’m going to tell her all about how I learned to play “Twinkle Twinkle” on the peenano with no ’istakes at all at all.’

  ‘That’s great, Molly,’ Gavin says, looking up to read overhead signs as we navigate our way. ‘I’m sure Kayla will be delighted to hear all your news, but we have to see the doctor first, remember?’

  ‘The doctor in his jammies,’ Molly giggles.

  ‘Here we are,’ Gavin says, pressing the buzzer on large double doors. ‘I think it’s through here.’

  ‘That’s very silly.’ Molly shakes her head. ‘Doorbells go on the outside. Not the inside.’

  ‘Hello,’ a voice carries through the intercom.

  ‘Hello. I’m Gavin Doran. I’m here with my daughter Molly.’