Chapters (46)
‘Ha-de-har,’ I reply, unable to hide my disappointment about something I just said I was pulling out of anyway.
‘We can do something proper another night. I’ll sort it,’ he says.
‘Thank you.’
There’s a muffle as Nick talks to someone else.
‘You OK?’
‘Yes! Food’s arrived. Bucket of calamari, fries and salad.’
‘Sounds deli–’
A thump from above stops me. I wait two seconds for the inevitable wailing to start. It does.
‘Better go. I think Chloe’s fallen out of bed,’ I say, already getting up and putting down my glass, which I’ve barely managed to touch.
‘Oh no. I lo–’
I hang up and make a dash up the stairs. Chloe is already stood on the landing with her arms reaching out to me. Her mouth is wide as she howls in despair. I scoop her up. She still screams.
I try taking her back to the room she shares with Barnaby; she still screams and sobs. I will never know how Barnaby manages to sleep through Chloe’s wails and commotion, but he always does. My slumbersome son has never once been woken up regardless of my daughter’s volume and hysteria. Oh to be so unaware.
I look over at my sleeping boy, splayed across his bed and dribbling all over his pillow. The important thing is that we all just get some sleep – it doesn’t matter who is where.
‘Want to sleep in my bed?’ I whisper directly into her ear, hoping she can hear me over the noise she’s making.
The sound is instantly turned off like it’s a tap. She gives me a wide-eyed nod and nuzzles into me, her body bouncing as it attempts to regain control of her breath.
‘Come on then,’ I whisper, waddling into my room and wondering when she got so big. I pull back the duvet and place her on Nick’s side of the bed, knowing full well she’ll either be on my side all night, pressed against me, or across the pillows with her feet in my face. I wrap her up warm and stroke her hair away from her face. ‘I love you, sausage.’
‘Love you,’ she says, looking a little shell-shocked at what’s happened.
‘It’s OK. Mummy’s here.’
At that her face crumples.
‘I want Daddy.’
FML.
The next hour is spent explaining that he’s away for work, that Mummy is just as good at hugs, and then being summoned back to the room any time I try to go back downstairs to one, lock up, two, phone Zaza, and three, finish my wine.
I give up and am in bed at a respectable quarter past nine.
