6. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Katie
“ D on’t forget your toothbrush,” I call out, folding a pair of Phoebe’s pyjamas and adding it to her bag. The flat is a mess of half-packed suitcases and scattered toys, the kind of chaos that would normally drive me mad, but today I barely notice. My thoughts are too tangled and the worry overrides everything.
Phoebe bounds into the room, clutching her stuffed rabbit in one hand and her toothbrush in the other. Her face is lit with excitement, her energy almost electric. “Mummy, are we leaving soon? Can we go now? I want to see Daddy!”
“Not quite yet,” I say, managing a smile. “We still need to finish packing. And remember, Phoebe, this is just for a little while. Only a few weeks.”
She nods absently, but I can tell she’s not really listening. She’s already thinking about being back at her dad’s house, about her room, about seeing him every day.
“Are you bringing the new book we were reading?” I ask, trying to redirect her focus. “You know Daddy likes stories about animals too. ”
Phoebe’s eyes widen, and she dashes off toward the living room. “I’ll get it!”
As soon as she’s gone, I sink down onto the bed, my hands resting on my knees.
She’s so happy. So eager. And why wouldn’t she be? To her, this feels like a family reunion, like we’re moving back in with Daddy, even if I keep reminding her it’s only temporary.
“Only a few weeks,” I murmur to myself, the words tasting hollow.
But a part of me knows it’s not just about the time. It’s about what those weeks will mean to Phoebe. She’s still young, still so full of hope that her family could be the way it used to be. And as much as I don’t want to take that hope from her, I’m terrified of what happens when we leave again.
Because we will leave. Won’t we?
I glance around the room, the familiar space that’s been ours since the divorce. It’s small, cosy, just right for the two of us. But it’s not Will’s house. His place is big, airy, full of trinkets he has collected on his trips. He bought the house a year ago when his company was finally turning a profit. He wanted to make sure Phoebe had a nice place to stay when she was at his on weekends. I’ve been there a few times to collect her. I love that house. I would have chosen that house for myself if I would be buying. But it is not mine.
And now, we’re going to stay there. For a while. Almost like a family.
“Mummy!” Phoebe’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. She rushes back in, clutching not just the book but an armful of other items she’s decided she can’t live without—another stuffed toy, her favourite blanket, and a sparkly pencil case. “I’m ready now!”
I smile despite myself. “We’re not moving in forever, Love. You don’t need to bring everything.”
“But I might want them!” she insists, her grin unshakable. “What if Daddy needs sparkly pencils?”
I laugh softly, even as a pang of worry twists my insides. “Okay, you can bring the pencils. But remember, Phoebe, we’re only staying with Daddy until he’s better. Just for a few weeks.”
She nods again, more seriously this time, but I can see the excitement in her eyes hasn’t dimmed.
“Go put those in your bag,” I say gently, watching as she skips off.
When she’s gone, the room feels too quiet, and I’m left alone with my thoughts again.
I feel like two people at once. There’s the Katie from before the divorce, the one who deeply cares about Will, who worries about him all the time. And then there’s the Katie I became after, the one who convinced herself that the divorce would solve the problem of worrying.
I tried to tell myself that stepping away from him, from his dangerous job and the fear that came with it, would make everything easier. Safer. For me, for Phoebe. And in some ways, it did. We’ve built a good life for ourselves, a stable one. Will and I have managed to find a balance—respectful, friendly, but distant.
But then I think about him in that hospital bed—pale, in pain, trying to reassure Phoebe with a smile even though he could barely move. And I know, deep down, that I was deluded to think that just because we divorced, I would no longer care .
Phoebe bounces back into the room, dragging her little suitcase behind her. “All packed!” she declares triumphantly.
“Good job,” I say, standing and ruffling her hair. “Let’s get my things together now.”
As I start packing my own bag, I try to focus on the practicalities. How to make the guest room comfortable. What meals to prepare for Will. How to keep Phoebe’s routine as normal as possible.
But the questions I’m avoiding loom larger with every passing moment. What happens when these weeks are over? When we leave Will’s house and go back to our flat? What happens if Phoebe starts wishing for something I can’t give her?
And maybe the hardest question of all: What happens if I start wishing for it too?
I shake my head, forcing the thoughts away as I zip up the suitcase. “Ready, Phoebe?”
“Ready!” she chirps, grabbing her bag and her rabbit.
I glance around the room one last time, taking a deep breath. For better or worse, this is the next step. And we’ll figure out the rest when we get there.
The street is quiet when we arrive at Will’s house, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the pavement. Phoebe practically jumps out of the car the moment I park, her stuffed rabbit clutched tightly in her hands.
“Is Daddy home yet?” she asks, bouncing on her toes .
I glance at the driveway, where an ambulance is pulling in. The sight of it causes a nervous flutter in my tummy, but I force a smile for Phoebe’s sake. “Looks like he’s just getting here.”
She bolts toward the house without waiting for me, her excitement bubbling over. “Come on, Mummy!”
By the time I catch up, the ambulance doors are open, and two paramedics are helping Will out. He looks pale, his face drawn with pain, but he manages a faint smile when he sees Phoebe.
“There’s my firecracker,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“Daddy!” Phoebe beams, but before she can get too close, one of the paramedics gently waves her back.
“Give us a bit of space, Love,” the man says kindly.
Phoebe, undeterred, watches intently as they move Will toward the front door. “You’ll need to be really careful on the stairs,” she declares, her voice full of authority. “And you have to go slow. Really slow.”
The paramedics exchange amused glances, and even Will chuckles weakly. “You heard her,” he says. “Go slow.”
“I can show you the best way!” Phoebe continues, positioning herself at the base of the stairs like a little general. “If you hold on to this side, it’s better. That railing is wobbly.”
Aaron, who’s standing by the door, stifles a laugh. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new project manager.”
I clear my throat and step forward. “Phoebe, why don’t we let the professionals handle this? How about we go inside and make some snacks for everyone?”
Phoebe hesitates, clearly torn between her self-appointed role and the lure of the kitchen. Finally, she relents, spinning on her heel. “Okay. But if they don’t listen to me and something goes wrong, I told them.”
This time, even the paramedics can’t help but laugh.
Phoebe is busy spreading butter onto slices of bread with the concentration of a world-class chef whilst I assemble a tray of tea and biscuits when Aaron walks in, leaning casually against the counter.
“Everything going all right out there?” I ask without looking up.
“They’re getting him settled,” Aaron replies. “Your little foreman had them in stitches.”
“She’s nothing if not thorough,” I say with a small smile, glancing at Phoebe.
Aaron watches her for a moment before lowering his voice. “Katie,” he says, his tone serious now. “Can we talk?”
I pause, setting the teapot down. “Sure. Pheebs, can you run upstairs and ask Daddy if he wants a tea or a coffee, please?”
“Okay,” Phoebe replies and sprints off towards the stairs.
“Are you really okay with all of this?” Aaron asks as soon as Phoebe is out of earshot.
I frown slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean moving back in here, even temporarily. Taking this on,” Aaron replies. “I’ve been around for all of it—the divorce, everything that led up to it. I know how hard it was for you, and you don’t have to open old wounds. ”
His words land heavily, and for a moment, I’m not sure how to respond. Aaron has always been blunt, sometimes to the point of being irritating, but he’s also been there through the worst of it. He knows more about Will’s work—and the toll it’s taken on both of us—than almost anyone else.
“I’m fine,” I say finally, though it sounds less convincing out loud than it did in my head.
“Katie,” Aaron says, softening his tone. “I can keep looking for a night nurse if you want.”
“It’s not just about me,” I murmur. “Phoebe wants this. She wants to be here for her dad.”
“Okay, if you are sure,” he gives me a mysterious grin.
“We are just here for a few weeks,” I point at him knowing exactly where his mind is going.
“Of course you are,” he grins. “For what it’s worth Katie, Will never stopped loving you.”
“Aaron! Don’t even go there!” I don’t need him making things even more confusing for me.
“Hey, I am a hopeless romantic. Ask my wife,” he winks.
Before either of us can say more, Phoebe suddenly bolts through the door, her stuffed rabbit clutched in one hand. “Daddy wants tea!”
She climbs back up on the chair next to the counter and starts building a tower out of the biscuits. Aaron raises an eyebrow. “Well, with her in charge, I’m sure Will will be back on his feet in no time”
I shake my head, a small laugh escaping despite myself. “She’s got enough energy for all of us.”
Aaron pats my shoulder as he heads for the door. “Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too, yeah? ”
As he leaves, I turn back to the tray, my thoughts swirling. Aaron’s question lingers in my mind. What do I want? I don’t have an answer yet, but for now, I focus on the simple task in front of me.
Because some things are easier to figure out one step at a time.