Chapter 29
Charlie crept into the darkened room, taking care not to make a sound.
Jessica was breathing heavily, her little sinuses still blocked with cold, and she had only just gone down, despite the late hour.
Secretly Charlie had hoped she would be up when she arrived home, so she could say good night to her properly, but Steve had done his job well, stroking and singing her to sleep.
Despite her tossing and turning, she looked content now, blissfully unaware of the world around her.
“How long did it take you?” Charlie whispered.
Steve had joined her and both were now gazing down at their slumbering daughter.
“Two to three hours,” Steve answered evenly. “She was pretty cross.”
“Sorry.”
“It was okay. Though I must have gone through my whole repertoire of nursery rhymes at least three times.”
“I’m glad I was out, then,” Charlie said, teasing. Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Then he crossed the room and, having doused a tissue with a generous measure of Olbas oil, laid it gently in Jessica’s cot. Immediately the room was filled with the comforting scent of eucalyptus.
“Come on, we’d better hit the hay,” Steve whispered. “There’s no telling when she’s going to be up again.”
Charlie nodded. He was right, of course, but she hadn’t seen her all day and suddenly she didn’t want to leave.
Steve moved to the doorway but lingered on the threshold, waiting for Charlie to follow.
A brief flash of irritation shot through her—it seemed she wasn’t in control at work or at home now—but then common sense prevailed.
She was knackered and needed a shower, so, relenting, she bent down to kiss her good night.
“Don’t.”
Charlie stopped, hovering inches from Jessica’s soft face, taken aback by the sharp tone of Steve’s voice. She turned to him, surprised.
“She needs to sleep and if you wake her, it’ll take hours to get her dow—”
“All right, all right,” Charlie responded, straightening up and brushing past Steve without another word.
It was a childish response and she knew it.
She had no cause to be shirty with Steve, whatever she felt about missing out on quality time with Jessica—but still his chiding irritated her.
She was fed up with compromise and making do.
She wanted her life to be simple, straightforward and satisfactory—but in reality it was none of these things.
These days she seemed to lurch from one minicrisis to the next, achieving little, pleasing no one, forever facing choices that left her the loser whichever way she jumped.
Would she get better at this? Or was this how it would always be?
Perhaps the brutal truth was that, whatever she did and whatever she tried, this was one circle that Charlie would never be able to square.