‘OK, hang on.’

Sarah arrived with the sandwiches. ‘Sorry, that took forever.’ She smiled. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘Olly’s stuck.’

She brushed me out of the way, tried the same things I’d tried, gave up more quickly than I had. ‘Oh dear, I think we’ll have to cut the seatbelt.’

‘No way, new seatbelts cost …’ How much? Why would anyone need a new seatbelt? ‘We just have to get him out.’

‘OK, why don’t you try?’ She backed away.

‘What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing?’ I turned, hands up. ‘Sorry, kids, that was a really bad word to say. Daddy’s just tired.’ I tried to smile, reassure them. My fucking head. I felt like throttling Sarah, and she must have seen it, but it was her fault, not mine, all of it.

‘It’s Daddy’s fault,’ Oliver said, crying.

‘It’s not,’ I said. ‘Stop blaming me.’

‘Chris, we’re going to have to cut it,’ Sarah said. ‘Unless you can think of another solution?’

I kicked the ground. ‘Fuck.’

‘Um, mind your language, hun. That’s not helping.’

‘Would butter work?’ Sophie said.

I stormed round to the passenger side, opened the door, opened the glove box – we had scissors in there, fuck knows why. I grabbed them, slammed the door, went back to Oliver’s open door, got Sarah out of the way, told him to calm down, just, please, calm down, mate, started sawing through his seatbelt.

11

11

‘Happy birthday, spunky.’ Sarah plumped her pillow, brought her head closer.

‘Thanks.’ I reached out, stroked her arm. We could have birthday sex, yes, we could, even though I’d been there already. I could smell Biddy on my stubble, had ridden home and crawled into bed at 5.30 am.

The curtains were closed. Sarah – nearly naked Sarah, her wet morning eyes, her rested skin, her hair. Her hand on mine, the covers pulled up past our shoulders, eyes closing again.

My mother in a hospital bed, fading in and out, Sarah and the kids in the waiting room. You’ll keep her safe, Chris, yeah? You’ll support her through her degree? You know she deserves this, right? You’ll try to keep your family together? You know what it’s like to lose a father.

Sarah’s eyes opening, moist. ‘Did you have a good night?’

I yawned, covered my mouth. ‘Yeah … Oh, sorry …’ Still yawning. ‘Yeah, I did.’

I’d been up until three doing dress-ups with Biddy, but the best was yet to come. Sophie and Oliver had school today. I’d drop them off, Sarah would leave for work at ten … and then, Chris’s Big Birthday Adventure – a day off work, a day off fathering, a day off lovering …

‘So, a bit of a surprise …’ Sarah turned to face me, stroked my hand. ‘I’ve taken the day off work too.’