The Forever Gift Page 2

  ‘Mmm-hmm,’ Gavin says, lifting his bowl to his lips to drink the chocolatey milk.

  I flick on the kettle and take the cereal bar and packet of crisps out of Molly’s lunchbox and swap them for a couple of slices of five-grain bread and an apple. I don’t bother mentioning the school’s healthy-eating policy. Gavin read the note that we got at registration, just as I did.

  ‘No PE today, Molly. It’s Tuesday,’ I say as my little girl skips back into the kitchen with her shoes on the wrong feet, carrying her sports kit. ‘But you do have piano after school, remember?’

  ‘I hate peenano,’ Molly says.

  ‘I know.’ I nod. ‘But that’s because you’re just starting out. It’s tricky now. But when you’re older and you can play all your favourite songs, you’ll be so happy.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Molly stomps her foot. ‘I hate songs. I hate all the songs.’

  ‘Okay,’ I sigh, trying to ignore my daughter’s ridiculous argument.

  I’m tempted to point out that for someone who hates all the music in the world she hums the theme tune from a toothpaste advert every night when we’re brushing her teeth. But we’re already running late and I know the irony will be wasted on my four-year-old.

  ‘Daddy. Let’s go,’ Molly says, taking her lunchbox from my hand.

  Gavin stands up and doesn’t notice Molly jerk her schoolbag from his hand. The zip is open and her pencil case and a plastic folder tumble to the floor.

  ‘Oops.’ Molly giggles and bends down to tidy up the mess.

  ‘Molly, really?’ I say, coming to help her. ‘You need to pay more attention.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to,’ Molly says, her bottom lip beginning to quiver.

  ‘It’s okay, princess,’ Gavin says, his eyes narrow on me. ‘We all make mistakes sometimes. Even Mammy.’

  I groan inwardly and roll my eyes, scolded.

  ‘C’mon, Molly,’ I say, aware of precious seconds ticking by – we’re going to be late. ‘You put these things back in your bag and I’ll fix your shoes.’

  ‘My shoes aren’t broken.’ Molly points to her feet.

  ‘No,’ I sigh, losing patience. ‘But they are on the wrong feet, aren’t they?’

  ‘Are not.’ Molly scrunches her nose.

  ‘Molly they are.’

  ‘Are not.’ Molly flops onto her bum and tucks her feet under her. She folds her arms across her chest and stares up at me, defiantly.

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ I say, bending down to toss Molly’s pencil case and folder back into her bag. ‘Give me your feet. You’ll break your neck on the yard if you don’t fix your shoes.’

  ‘No. No. NO!’ Molly huffs.

  Defeated, I stand up and look at Gavin. My expression is asking him to speak to his daughter about this. But just as my husband points his finger and opens his mouth his phone rings. His fingers quickly retract as he shoves his hand into his pocket to pull out his phone.

  ‘It’s Heather,’ Gavin says, gesturing at the screen.

  I smile, ridiculously brightly out of sheer frustration, because I don’t know what else to do at the news that his ex-fiancée is calling.

  ‘Hello,’ Gavin says, raising the phone to his ear before I have time to say anything. ‘No. Of course it’s not a bad time. What’s up?’

  ‘No, it’s not a bad time,’ I mimic and roll my eyes as Gavin walks into another room.

  Molly laughs. ‘You’re silly, Mammy,’ she says and lunges forward to wrap her arms tightly around my waist. ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you too, baby,’ I say.

  ‘I’m not a baby,’ Molly says. She lets go of me and lowers herself onto her bum again. She stretches her legs out in front of her and slips off her shoes and switches them onto the opposite feet. ‘See. I’m a big girl.’

  Result. I smile.

  ‘C’mon,’ I say, taking Molly’s hand in mine and helping her to her feet. ‘Let’s see if Daddy is ready. We don’t want to be late.’

  I toss one strap of Molly’s sparkly pink school bag over my shoulder and tuck her even brighter pink lunchbox under my arm. Molly holds my hand and skips alongside me towards the sitting room.

  The sitting room door is slightly ajar and I’m just about to push my hand against it when I hear Gavin’s voice crackle and break.

  ‘Oh God. Okay. Oh God,’ he says. ‘Jesus, Heather. This can’t really be happening. Tell me this can’t be happening.’

  I pull my hand away from the door and, I turn, about to direct Molly back towards the kitchen but she wriggles her hand away from mine and pushes the door all the way back until it bangs against the wall.

  ‘Molly, for goodness’ sake, Daddy’s busy right now,’ I say.

  ‘Daddy, look.’ Molly skips into the room, ignoring me. ‘I fixed my shoes. All by myself. Mammy said I was a baby, but I fixed them.’

  Gavin is facing the fireplace and he doesn’t turn around. Not even when Molly crosses the room and tugs on the back pocket of his suit pants. His head is low, and his shoulders are round. Gavin is six foot two and broad, he’s still carrying some muscle from playing rugby in college, but suddenly my husband seems shorter and almost frail. As if the weight of whatever Heather has said is physically crushing him.

  ‘Molly,’ I call. ‘Molly, honey, come here.’

  Molly lets go of Gavin and spins around to look at me. Gavin is silent and nodding his head as he stands statue-like with the phone still pressed tightly against his ear. I wonder if he’s even noticed we are here.

  ‘Molly, will you go upstairs and brush your teeth, please?’ I ask.

  ‘I already did.’ Molly pulls a funny face as she parts her lips to show me her top and bottom teeth at the same time. ‘See.’

  ‘Can you brush them again, please?’ I say.

  ‘But…’

  ‘Remember what the tooth fairy said?’ I say.

  Molly puffs out. ‘Shiny teeth are a fairy’s favourite.’

  ‘Exactly. So, go on. Good girl.’ I move out of the door arch to allow Molly to pass by me on her way to the stairs. ‘I can’t wait to see how sparkling you can get them.’

  ‘I can get them super sparkly. Sparklier than my school bag,’ Molly says, rushing up the stairs. I don’t even tell her not to run.

  Molly leaves the bathroom door open and I wait until I can hear the tap running before I set her schoolbag and lunchbox down on the couch and hurry over to Gavin. I place my hand on his shoulder and I feel him shaking. This isn’t like him. Heather and Gavin have an almost annoyingly good relationship for a pair of exes. They split parenting of Kayla as evenly as they can even though they live on opposite sides of the country. Gavin pays the lion’s share of costs: school trips, braces, new shoes. And he never once complains. I think he feels guilty that Heather dropped out of college when Kayla was born, while he continued with his studies.

  ‘I’m the bigger earner,’ Gavin tells me when yet another dentist bill comes through the letterbox.

  It’s true. But Heather is way out of line this week. She must have called Gavin ten times already, all because Kayla fell and sprained her knee. Heather is talking about some specialist that Gavin and I have never heard of, and no doubt Heather thinks the Bank of Gavin will cover the cost. It’s getting completely out of hand. I’ll have to talk to Gavin about it later.

  ‘Gavin,’ I say, my fingers curling a little tighter around his shoulder. ‘What is it?’

  Gavin turns around and his face is pale. His eyes are meeting mine but he’s not really seeing me. He’s still holding the phone against his ear but I don’t think there’s anyone on the other end anymore. Suddenly, this doesn’t feel as if it’s about money.

  Light footsteps begin to move around overhead and I know Molly will come bouncing down the stairs any second.

  I reach for Gavin’s hand and lower it away from his ear. He’s clutching his phone so tightly his knuckles are as white as his face. I don’t bother attempting to prise his phone out of his hand, or even try t
o talk to him; instead I slide my hand around his waist and lead him to the couch. He walks, taking baby steps like a small child. A horrible weight settles in my stomach when we reach the couch and I have to reach up and physically press my hands against the tops of my husband’s shoulders to guide him to sit down.

  ‘Maaaaammmyyyy, I can’t find my school bag,’ Molly shouts from the top of the stairs.

  I glance at her bag wedged beside and slightly under Gavin on the couch.

  ‘Keep looking,’ I say, moving to the door so Molly comes into view at the top of the stairs. ‘Try your room. Good girl.’

  ‘Okay.’ Molly shrugs, turning and skipping away.

  I close my eyes for a second and exhale before I turn around to face Gavin. I know Molly won’t stay distracted alone for much longer but I really don’t want her listening to whatever Gavin is about to tell me.

  I open my eyes to see Gavin sitting with his hands covering his face and he’s shaking his head.

  ‘What did she say, Gavin?’ I say. ‘Is it bad news?’

  Gavin doesn’t make a sound. When he finally lowers his hands his eyes are bloodshot and I can see he’s struggling to hold back tears.

  ‘Mammy, I can’t find it,’ Molly’s shouts. ‘I’ve looked in all the places.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Molly.’ I roll my eyes and march into the hall.

  Molly is standing at the top of the stairs again. Her arms are stretched out wide and she’s shaking her head. ‘I think Daddy hided it. Maybe he doesn’t want me to go to school today.’

  I glance over my shoulder at my broken husband. Just minutes ago he was eating children’s breakfast cereal with the rigor of a teenager and now he’s washed out, shaking and as frail as a man three times his age.

  Dammit, why can’t we have a normal day for once?

  Gavin mentioned something months ago about Heather’s job being on the rocks. What if they’ve finally let her go and she’s moving? Gavin would die if Heather moved Kayla even further away. He couldn’t cope without Kayla.

  ‘Mammy are you listening?’ Molly juts a hip out and points a wagging finger at me.

  It’s hard to keep a straight face as I stare up at the mini-me scolding me from the top of the stairs.

  ‘Sorry, sweetie,’ I say, making my way up the stairs, reluctant to leave Gavin alone. ‘Mammy’s being silly this morning, isn’t she?’

  Molly nods. ‘And Daddy too. Daddy’s very silly. He didn’t know today is peenano day.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, taking a deep breath. ‘Daddy is silly today, too.’

  Molly lowers her pointed finger and she suddenly looks unsure, like she might cry. I hope she hasn’t picked up on the tension. Most of the parenting books I’ve read say children are aware of all sorts of external emotional factors that we don’t give them credit for. I would hate if Molly had any idea of how much I struggle with the hold Heather seems to have over Gavin. Or how uncertain it makes me.

  ‘You know what?’ I say with a single, enthusiastic clap of my hands. ‘We’re already a little late for school today. How about we wait until after first break to go in? Would you like that?’

  ‘But I have my shoes on now.’ Molly points to her toes. ‘And they’re on the right feet.’

  ‘I know, sweetie,’ I smile. ‘But Mammy and Daddy need to talk about something really important right now. I’ll walk you to school in a little while. Okay?’

  ‘Are you talking about…’ Molly draws in a big breath that makes her stand taller and straighter and then puffs out quickly ‘… grown-up stuff? I want to talk about grown-up stuff too.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I sigh, as I take my little girl’s hands in mine and give them a gentle squeeze. ‘Not this time, sweetheart.’

  Molly lowers her head and she rolls onto her tiptoes and back down. ‘Oh,’ she says.

  ‘iPad,’ I say, panicked. ‘Why don’t you take my iPad for a little while. Maybe you can watch Peppa Pig, yeah?’

  ‘Humph.’ Molly jams her hands onto her hips. ‘Peppa Pig is for babies. I like Teen Titans Go!’

  ‘Oooh-kay,’ I say, making a mental note to check up on what the hell Gavin is letting Molly watch. ‘The iPad is beside my bed. If you can’t find it I’ll…’

  Molly’s back is immediately to me and she charges towards my bedroom. ‘Got it. I got it,’ she says, reappearing within seconds with the device tucked under her arm.

  If only a school bag was an iPad, I think, rolling my eyes.

  Reaching my arms out, I say, ‘Let me turn it on for you?’

  Molly looks at me as if I’ve just offered her detox tea and raw kale for breakfast.

  ‘I can do it all by myself,’ she says, tugging it out from under her arm to wave it at me like a fan.

  ‘Molly, be careful.’ I tut. ‘No more than twenty minutes. And only in your room. You’re not to bring it downstairs.’

  ‘Twenty minutes,’ Molly echoes as if she has a concept of time.

  Molly hurries into her bedroom, kicks off her shoes by the door and hops up onto her bed. Sitting cross-legged she turns on the iPad. Upbeat theme-tune music soon fills the air. I use my foot to guide Molly’s school shoes to one side then close her door until there’s just a crack open and walk down stairs.

  The smell of coffee calls to me from the bottom step. Gavin has obviously moved from the sitting room to the kitchen. I’m desperate to ask him what on earth Heather said to rattle him so much, but I don’t want it to come out sounding all irritated. As hard as it is, I try to act normal and let him tell me in his own time.

  ‘Oh God, I could murder a cup,’ I say, reaching the kitchen and pulling out a chair from the table that there really isn’t room for in the cramped space. ‘Oh, I said Molly could have your iPad for a little while. She’s in her room with it now.’

  ‘Yeah. Okay,’ Gavin says, stirring a spoon around one cup, tapping it off the edge and moving it to the other.

  ‘Molly loves that thing, I thought it would be a good distraction. Just for a few minutes so we can talk. I’ll drop her into school later,’ I say, sitting down.

  ‘Um…’ Gavin stirs the second cup.

  ‘By the way, what’s Teen Titans Go!?’ I ask. ‘Molly says she loves it. Is it too grown-up? I’m not sure about some of that stuff she watches.’

  ‘Teen Titans Go! You’re seriously asking me about Teen Titans Go!’ Gavin raises his hand above his head before he throws the spoon. It misses the sink and clatters against the granite with a sharp, sudden bang before it bounces onto the floor with a less-aggressive clink.

  ‘Gavin,’ I inhale, wide-eyed.

  ‘It’s just a TV programme for God’s sake, and she likes it,’ Gavin says as he crouches to pick up the spoon. Standing up again he points it at me, his hand and the spoon shaking. ‘But what about piano? And swimming and all the other stuff that we make her do that she hates? And for what, Charlie? Huh? Why do we make her do it?’

  ‘Gavin.’ I shake my head, trying to stay calm. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know.’ Gavin drags his hands around his face and walks, somewhat blindly, towards the table, leaving the two cups of steaming coffee on the countertop behind him.

  I hop up and pull out the chair next to me noticing Gavin’s lips are losing colour. He flops into it.

  ‘Why do we do it, you know?’ Gavin says. ‘Why do we push them? Push them to learn. Push them to achieve. They’re just kids. Kids! Shouldn’t they just enjoy being young?’

  I walk around behind my husband and rub his shoulders. ‘Talk to me. Eh? Tell me what’s wrong.’

  ‘Heather got a call,’ Gavin says, tilting his head from side to side as I rub his aching neck. ‘From a doctor at the kids’ hospital.’ Gavin pauses, to gather his thoughts, or catch his breath. ‘Not the one Heather has been taking Kayla to. A different one, here in Dublin.’

  I dig my thumbs into the stubborn knots below Gavin’s shoulder blades, circling. ‘Um,’ I say, listening. I just know thi
s is heading towards something I don’t want to hear.

  ‘Heather is meeting him today,’ Gavin adds. ‘It’s important.’

  I dig harder into Gavin’s shoulders. He doesn’t budge.

  ‘He wants to see us both.’ Gavin breathes out. ‘The doctor wants to see Heather and me.’

  ‘Really? Both of you?’ I ask, rolling my eyes again. I can’t think of a single time I’ve taken Molly to the doctor when Gavin would need to be there too. ‘Do you think Heather is—’ I pause and choose my words carefully. ‘Do you think Heather is over-reacting? It’s a knee injury, after all. Not uncommon for a basketball player, is it?’

  ‘Heather was in an awful state on the phone,’ Gavin says, and I can tell from the softness in his tone that he’s going to give in to her request.

  ‘I know. I know,’ I say. ‘But Kayla has already missed the last couple of games and the team are suffering. She’ll lose her place as captain if she doesn’t start playing again soon. It would break her heart. Couldn’t you have a word with Heather?’

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ Gavin says, running a shaking hand through his hair.

  Jesus. I hate this. I hate that one lousy phone call from Heather can have this effect on my husband.

  ‘I know,’ I say, ‘I get it.’ I’m lying. I don’t understand. I have no idea what it’s like to parent a teenager. I try, of course, to support Gavin, but Kayla is Heather and Gavin’s daughter. They have a closeness with her that I can only observe.

  ‘What exactly did Heather say?’ I ask, consciously easing the pressure as I kneed Gavin’s tense muscles. ‘Is something serious going on?’

  Gavin reaches up and catches my hands in his, squeezing a little too tightly. He’s pinching. I wince and I’m about to pull away.

  ‘The hospital in Cork sent Kayla’s result to the National Children’s Hospital here in Dublin,’ Gavin says, pausing to draw a deep breath, steading himself.

  ‘Why would they do that?’ I ask, confused.

  ‘The hospital say Kayla will need specialist care in Dublin,’ Gavin says. ‘This is serious, Charlie. I think Kayla is really, really sick. I’m scared.’

  I stop massaging and my hands fall limp by my sides. ‘Oh God.’