For the past week, life had been good with Mickey. I’d had dinner and then hung out at his place three times when the kids were still with him and we’d spent all day Saturday together, dinking around at the shops at Mills jetty then going out for dinner.

Cillian had definitely approved me. He was relaxed, at ease, open to being what boys his age were: part goofball, part young man.

Alarmingly, Ash was getting worse. Her hair definitely had not been washed in, my guess, several days. And I’d realized that I’d never really noticed her clothes, because they weren’t noticeable. However, with the hair thing, taking in her full appearance, I noted them along with the fact that her hair was not only not washed, it needed a cut, she didn’t put on makeup and her clothes were bulky and oversized, not quite hiding the fact that she was putting on weight.

Unlike my mother, I was not of the opinion that every female should be stick thin, wear makeup and spend huge chunks of time on their appearance, unless they enjoyed doing that kind of thing.

But Ash’s timid quietness moving to awkward near-silence and the total deterioration of her appearance at her age was alarming.

Mickey had a lot on his plate but I felt it was too important not to mention. Therefore, when we’d met at the diner for dinner the night before, I’d brought it up.

It had not escaped him. He was extremely concerned. He also was a man and had no idea what to do. Further, he shared that he’d brought this up with Rhiannon some time ago and she didn’t agree there seemed to be an issue, but she did have a conversation with Aisling and declared all was well.

As Mickey did not agree with Rhiannon’s assessment, he’d shared with me that over the past few weeks he’d tried to broach the subject with Aisling. He’d since backed off due to the fear that his efforts were making her retreat further and get worse.

Clearly all was not well. But now, Mickey and Rhiannon didn’t have the relationship where he could discuss this with her so her mother could step in and as her father, he was at a loss of how to broach it.

“Next time she’s with me, I’ll try one more time. See what I can do. That doesn’t go well, I gotta ask you, baby, if you’ll step in,” he’d said.