He looked up and yelled. ‘You’re talking crap, total fucking crap. Lottie is missing me, that’s all! Open the fucking door. I’ll give her a hug and a kiss and then I’ll be on my way.’

Megan gritted her teeth, hissing her words. ‘We can arrange something in a few days, if, and only if, you leave now.’

Dale picked up a sizeable stone from the well-tended flower bed bordering the small rectangular lawn, intending to smash the glass panel in the door, to force entry. But he dropped it almost immediately on hearing a siren wail in the distance, getting gradually louder. He peered up at Megan as angry as she’d ever seen him, tense muscles changing the contours of his face. ‘You phoned the pigs. You have got to be kidding me. Why would you do that? You bitch, you total fucking bitch!’

Megan shook her head once more, feeling somewhat conflicted. A part of her was grateful to whoever had called the emergency services; a part of her bemoaned her ex’s continued decline into alcoholism. ‘No, I didn’t ring the police, not this time. But don’t think I won’t in future if you turn up here in that state again. Now go before the police get here. Sleep it off. We can talk when you’re sober. If you don’t go now, you’re going to be locked up. None of us wants that.’

Dale bowed in mock obedience. ‘Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Anything you say, your majesty.’

Megan went to close the window but pushed it wide again as he staggered towards his vehicle, keys in hand. ‘Walk, for goodness’ sake! You’re way over the limit. Do not get in that car. Now go before it’s too late.’

2

Megan crept into her spacious bedroom a short time later, both surprised and gratified to see that Lottie was asleep and lost to her dreams. Megan yawned, bent stiffly at the waist and gently kissed her daughter’s forehead before tucking her favourite chocolate-brown teddy bear next to her under the quilt. Megan looked down at her young child for a few seconds more, studying her features, her impish face, her light-blonde hair, recalling happier times in the not so distant past, before Dale’s gradual decline into alcohol addiction ravaged their previously ordinary lives. Before his selfish nature tore their relationship to pieces.

Megan brought her rumination to a sudden end, considering her thought process pointless at best. Going over it all yet again didn’t change anything, not a damned thing. She had to look forward. Megan tiptoed from the room ever so slowly, ever so quietly, a look of resigned acceptance on her face. Please don’t wake up, Lottie. Please don’t wake up.

Megan shuffled into the family kitchen on tired legs, in search of aspirin to alleviate her nagging headache. She popped a soluble tablet into her open mouth, switching on the kettle on autopilot, before picking up her mobile, seriously considering contacting her mother despite the early hour. It would be so good to talk to someone who actually cared. But in the early hours of the morning, really, was that even remotely reasonable? Most likely not; why not have a quick cuppa and give it some further thought.