Chapter 16
‘Thank God, you’re here.’
Finn’s face looked almost straight into her own, such was the number of extra inches the boots had given her, but he barely seemed to register that. He looked crazy, all right, but definitely not in the way she’d hoped. Cassie smiled encouragingly, attempting to break through his agitation, but he vanished into the bedroom, leaving her holding the bottle of wine she’d had no difficulty keeping chilled in the raw evening.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Everything’s gone to shit is what’s wrong.’
It dawned on her that whatever drama she was costumed for bore no relation to the drama that was engulfing Finn at this moment. She followed him into the bedroom, where he was pulling on extra layers of T-shirts under a fleece and lacing up sturdy boots.
‘Finn, please tell me what is going on.’
He flopped on the bed, picked up his phone and looked at it distractedly. She’d never seen him like this.
‘Marisha’s mother has been taken ill and she’s gone down to Limerick. And at the same time the person who was on call at work has gone sick, and I’ve been called in as replacement until eleven.’
Cassie was starting to feel less like Catherine Zeta-Jones in Chicago and more like Krusty the Clown, which just went to show it was all about being the right person in the right place at the right time.
‘But if it’s not your day to see them and she’s just springing it on you .?.?.?’
Even as she spoke, she knew it was a mistake. His look was utterly dismissive.
‘That’s not how it works. I’m their dad. Anyway, she has all the power right now. If she wanted to cut back my access to the kids, she could do it, like that.’ He snapped his fingers.
‘But don’t married people have equal rights to their children?’
He looked up at her with a hollow expression.
‘In theory, but things are never that simple, she could turn them against me.’
‘I’m sorry, that was clueless of me, I understand.’
Oh boy. She placed the rapidly warming bottle of Sauvignon on the bedside locker and sat down beside him.
‘OK, let’s take a breath and break this down. Marisha’s in an emergency so, of course, you want to help. You certainly don’t want to give any ammunition to that weapon of a sister from the pub.’
Finn seemed to have gone into a panic state, which didn’t allow for problem-solving.
‘Anything but that.’
‘OK, you have to turn in for work. You can stay here until .?.?. when?’
‘They’re due here at six thirty .?.?. I’ll have to leave ten minutes later.’
‘OK, so why can’t I be called in as an emergency babysitter? No need to say who I am or how you know me. I can stay with the kids, and then you’ll be home and everyone will be safe.’
‘I can’t ask you to do that.’
‘For heaven’s sake, I suggested it. I love kids, it’ll be fine.’
She wasn’t nearly as confident as she sounded but, come on, they weren’t babies, how hard could it be?
‘Would you really do that for me, for us? It’s only the two little ones, and maybe Samantha. She’s supposed to have a sleepover with a friend, but the last I heard they’d had a row – don’t ask me, this happens all the time .?.?. but don’t be surprised if she turns up at the last minute, that’s Sam.’
Oh hell. A fourteen-year-old could be a great deal harder to convince than a six-year-old. What, oh what, had possessed her to allow Ramona to dress her up as a stripper for a weekday night at home? Still, nothing for it but to plough ahead.
‘So, I go and make myself scarce, sit in the car for half an hour then come back just before quarter to seven, when you introduce me to Cici and Conn as “the babysitter”.’
‘I hate to think of you sitting in the car, it’s just—’
‘So it doesn’t look like a set-up, I get it.’
Finn smiled. ‘They know how to get themselves ready for bed. Cici needs a story, but apart from that, you don’t have to worry.’
‘Not a problem.’
Finn was beginning to come down from his panic by this stage. He looked at her closely. ‘Do you think you could just rub off a bit of that red .?.?. stuff. You know, babysitters are usually .?.?.’ Realisation dawned on his face. ‘Oh God, I’m really sorry. It looks great, it really does, it’s just—’
‘Oh God, this is so embarrassing. To be honest, Ramona did me up. It was all her idea – I was planning to come in jeans and a jumper. I mean, I don’t normally veer towards the Vegas showgirl style of makeup. Look, it was supposed to be a fun surprise for our date, OK? Rubbish timing, I’m afraid.’
She was starting to feel like a lilo that’d been punctured and was gradually losing its bounce. On the other hand, here was an opportunity to be supportive in her new relationship because, after all, everyone knew that messy break-ups were a nightmare, and rather than being marginalised she could help out and perhaps even get to know the kids in an informal way. Not her choice, exactly, but that was life – you just had to be ready to bat whatever ball came at you.
*?*?*
Cassie spent nearly forty minutes lurking in a darkening car park outside the local Tesco with a stewed cup of coffee and soggy egg-mayonnaise sandwich, regretting that she’d saved herself earlier. When she finally pulled into a space in front of Finn’s apartment block and switched off the engine, she realised her hands felt sweaty and were shaking slightly against the steering wheel. She had a flash of panic. What if the kids kicked up and wouldn’t settle? Was this actually immoral, and would Marisha be within her rights to phone the Gardaí about her children being minded by a stranger without her permission? She batted the thoughts away. It was too late for any of that. All she could do was show up, be nice and go ahead with the plan.
*?*?*
‘This is Cici and she has to be in bed by eight.’
‘Eight thirty.’ Cici’s hazel eyes were round like a marmalade kitten’s. Her voice was insistent and Cassie could see exactly how, under other circumstances, she could be highly persuasive.
‘Eight,’ said Finn firmly, clearly not in the mood for being cajoled. ‘And this is Con, his bedtime is quarter to nine because it’s Thursday.’
Con was clearly going to grow up to have the same build as his dad; he stayed motionless, his eyes fixed on the PlayStation controller in his hand. ‘We don’t normally see you on Thursdays anymore, Daddy,’ he replied in a flat voice.
Finn flashed her a glance. ‘Con likes things to stay the same, but I’ve explained to him it’s an emergency and Cassie is going to look after you tonight.’
Con looked up at her. I totally get this child , flashed through her mind.
‘You know, I don’t like change much either. I prefer it when things stay the same too.’ She smiled at him.
‘If it’s an emergency, then does that make you a superhero?’
‘Interesting question, Con. What do you think?’
‘I think you’re not as big as you look, you’re just wearing tall boots.’
Which was a more astute observation than perhaps he realised.
Cici looked up at her in wonderment.
‘Can I try them on, Daddy, can I? Then you can take a photo and show Samantha I’m as grown up as her.’
She exchanged a glance with Finn, That’d be another story for her mother, but what the hell.
‘Course you can, pet, if Cassie doesn’t mind.’
Tied into the sparkly red boots with the steeple-high heels, Cici held on to the wall with one splayed hand and carefully began a sort of spacewalk up the hall.
‘Look at me, Daddy. These are like stilts,’ she shrieked in excitement. ‘I’m bigger than Con.’
‘You look like a Transformer,’ said Con.
‘I do not. You look like a shithead.’
‘Cici, that’s enough.’
Cassie practically exploded with laughter. For the first time she was getting to observe Finn in his dad role. It felt almost voyeuristic. Cici had wobbled up to her and now the height difference was at least six inches fewer than it had been. The child reached out a chubby index finger. ‘I like your red sparkly eyes, can I touch them?’
Cassie obligingly leaned forward.
‘Eeew, it’s crusty.’ Cici gave a shiver.
‘I know, it’ll probably be stuck on for days.’
Cici contemplated this idea and giggled. ‘That’ll be funny.’
‘You know what, yes it will,’ Cassie agreed warmly.
‘I’d better be off.’ Finn pulled on his jacket. ‘The kids know everything, they can explain it all to you.’
Just then his phone buzzed, he read the message slowly and rolled his eyes.
‘What?’ she mouthed.
‘Kids, go and put your things in the sitting room.’
He turned the phone round to show her.
Sorry DD, actually busy, I have a life.
‘That’s it? What’s DD, darling daddy?’
‘If only. Nope, it’s her new “joke” name for me, Deadbeat Dad .’
‘Oh babe, I’m sorry, that’s rotten.’
His phone beeped again.
Pawning them off on babysitter. Nice one dd ? . btw Con sent pic of babysitter shoes. Classy. she a hooker?
Cassie gawked in disbelief, instinctively moving to put her arms around him, but he stepped back and put out his hand.
‘Oh, sorry, sorry. I forgot.’
‘Yeah, just .?.?. I can’t.’
‘Sure, of course.’ Adult-up, she reminded herself, it’s a game, we can sort it out later. ‘Bye kids, be good for Cassie,’ he called. ‘I’ll be home later .?.?. Oh, and eat whatever she cooks for you.’ Then he was gone and she was left reeling from some of the most hostile texts she’d ever seen. Let it go for now, she told herself.
In fairness, rustling up a meal for two children should be nothing. Any of the girls would’ve probably been able to whip it up blindfolded while tied to a chair, but for her this was totally out of her comfort zone. What would Jamie Oliver do? He’d airily juggle the most wholesome ingredients in a pan while humming .?.?. pom, pompity, pom. Oh, good Lord.
‘Let’s look in the kitchen, kids,’ she announced in her most CBeebies presenter’s voice. ‘Yaaay!’ Cici played along delightfully while Con gripped his remote controller like a talisman.
‘Let’s see what’s in the fridge .?.?.’
What met her was .?.?. nothing. Just eggs, and in a manky drawer a gnarly onion and wrinkled tomato. And sriracha sauce. Jamie Oliver would be weeping. I’ll fucking kill him , she thought momentarily, leaving me to manage all of this . Then she nudged herself – what about that ad where the dad whips up an omelette? It could work.
‘So, kids, how about my super-special spicy omelette surprise?’
‘Yaaay!’ cheered Cici, almost toppling off the boots in the process. ‘What’s an omplet ?’ This child was adorable, Cassie realised, but also a totally unreliable source of information.
‘Con has to have all his food so none of the things touch,’ she explained gravely. ‘The peas can’t touch the mash and the chicken can’t touch the nip.’
Turnip, Cassie deduced. Crikey, that was pretty specific. Where on earth was she going to find a meal like that at this hour? She recognised she’d about five minutes before their hunger would time out. She waved her phone. ‘Let’s order something!!’
‘Yaaay,’ cheered Cici.
‘Like what?’ said Con, flatly.
Oh God, good question. Think. Fast. ‘Chips! With .?.?. a sausage. And a side order of peas.’ She was trying to make it sound like they’d won the Lotto. In fairness, she’d done a lot of improvisation.
‘Yaaay.’
‘We’re not allowed takeaways. Mum says trans fats cause lifelong damage to our arteries.’
‘ Yes . Your mother is right. If you had them a lot. But .?.?. tonight is an emergency , so .?.?.’
‘Yaay.’
CiCi should be hired out to shows up and down the country as an audience plant. Con studied the skirting board and began to recite, ‘In case of an emergency, remain calm and inform the relevant authorities. In case of fire do not open a window .?.?.’
He was beginning to hyperventilate. Oh God, she could feel her temperature soaring despite the skimpy outfit. Top priority was to manage his anxiety before it spiralled out of control. Act confident.
‘Excellent advice, Con. Thank you for that. Glad to say it’s not a fire, but we can remain calm and phone the relevant authorities.’
He blinked at her in silence for a good thirty seconds with a glance eerily reminiscent of Finn’s.
She brandished her phone. ‘And in this case, the authorities are Just Eat.’
There was a long pause.
‘I like chips,’ he pronounced, with great effort.
‘We all do. Let’s call in the order.’
*?*?*
Twenty minutes later they were unpacking the little parcels out of the carrier bag which had been delivered to the door, and both children seemed to be happy with the contents. Maybe Marisha, with her sky-high standards, had done her a favour. These kids seemed a hell of a lot easier to impress than most. They laid out two plates and counted out the food meticulously: ten chips for Cici, fifteen for Conor, a jumbo sausage each and a spoon of peas, placed in a spot of the recipient’s choosing.
After dinner Conor seemed to be magnetically pulled towards one end of the sofa, with Thor at his feet. ‘He always sits in that seat. It regulates him,’ Cici explained earnestly before she vanished out the door and could be heard rummaging in the cupboard of doom. Conor was engrossed in loading up a computer game when Cici clumped back into the room, holding the familiar long-haired doll who was now wearing a white pillowcase safety-pinned under her chin.
‘This is St Teresa of ávila,’ Cici intoned with such solemnity that Cassie practically burst out laughing but stopped herself just in time.
‘Really? How did she get her name?’
‘Because she is so good and when I’m not here, she minds my daddy.’
‘Well, that’s beautiful, Cici, does your daddy know?’
She shook her head.
‘The magic doesn’t work unless it’s a secret.’
The trust in the little girl’s face caused a lump in Cassie’s throat. Cici took the doll back and kissed her head. ‘It’s her bedtime. She has to go before me because she’s younger.’
Cassie followed her into the second bedroom, which had bunk beds and a single bed – bit of a squash, she observed. Cici tucked the doll into the corner of the lower bunk.
‘Con sleeps in the top one and Samantha sleeps over there, but she says she hates sharing with us. She says we’re farty, but I’m not,’ she confided indignantly.
God, having to share with two younger siblings couldn’t be the most ideal situation for a teenager – no wonder she was trying to dodge whenever she could.
‘Would you like me to read you a story?’
‘I’m nearly six, I can read myself,’ said Cici, pulling out a battered copy of Rhinos Don’t Eat Pancakes , which she proceeded to read through without actually looking at the pages. Clearly, she knew it off by heart, which struck Cassie as a very comforting idea right before sleep. She remembered having books like that, endlessly re-read and stuffed under the pillow until the pages began to fall out.
‘Now you have to put it on the locker, so it’s right on the corner and looks like a sandwich,’ Cici explained. Cassie had to adjust the angle of her moon-shaped night light before she crept out of the softly lit room, leaving the door slightly ajar. It felt both novel and strangely familiar. Being a kid hadn’t changed that much over the decades. I could’ve done this, she thought. She could’ve coped with a child, even though during all the years with Gav it’d seemed like such an impossibly big leap and one which they’d agreed wouldn’t ‘suit their lifestyles’. That was bullshit. She’d actually have managed fine. The thought jabbed her in the heart so savagely that she quickly squashed it down.
Con was wedged into the corner of the sofa, with his feet resting against Thor who, despite the gruesome events on the screen, had settled into a soporific trance and was snoring gently. She plonked down beside him.
‘So, what’s the plot?’
She hoped she wasn’t going to be that infuriating adult buzzing in the kid’s ear but thankfully he didn’t seem to see it that way.
‘It’s this town that’s overrun with zombies because of a radioactive experiment that went wrong,’ he explained. ‘We’re the survivors and we have to fight our way into the reactor to shut it down.’
As you would, she thought. She watched for a few minutes as he explained the properties of his various weapons.
‘Con, watch it!’ Cassie slapped her hand over her mouth as a swarm of jerky black figures filled the screen and his thumbs jabbed frantically at the controls.
‘I’m trying .?.?. Fuck,’ he roared as a pixellated red splosh filled the screen. ‘I died.’
‘There were too many. What could you do?’
Sometimes life was just like that. No matter how hard you tried, it all became too much.
‘Are you allowed to play this at home?’
He shook his head.
‘You won’t tell my mum, right? I’m only allowed to play The Sims and Minecraft , but they’re lame.’
‘Don’t worry. Your dad’s house, your dad’s rules. So, what do we do now?’
‘I could re-spawn and try again.’
She looked at her watch and thought, what the hell, it was a Thursday night. She picked up the second controller.
‘You game?’ He looked at her with curiosity for the first time.
‘A bit. I used to play with someone .?.?.’ She and Gav had played Final Fantasy on his nights at home from tour; it was how he unwound and her way of reconnecting with him.
‘I’ve never played this one but I’m sure I can pick it up.’
Just then his pocket began to buzz.
‘Hi Mum, Dad’s not here, he’s in work. The babysitter’s here.’
Although they were at opposite ends of the sofa, Cassie could hear the outraged voice piercing through the peaceful atmosphere of murder and mayhem. She watched tension return to Con’s face as he handed her the phone with a shrug.
‘Sorry .?.?. who are you?’ came down the phone at her. This was not fair. She wasn’t prepared for this shite.
‘My name is Cassandra and I was called in to babysit for a few hours.’
‘Where did he get you?’
Oh my God, the sheer rudeness and aggression took her aback. What was it that felt so familiar? That woman in the pub who’d no compunction about making a scene in front of the entire place. Her first impulse was to tell this bitch to fuck off. She was here out of her own good nature to dig Finn out of a hole and see that these children were safe and cared for and, inexperienced as she might be, she was doing a perfectly good job.
When she didn’t respond immediately, the voice became even more insistent. ‘Are you government-registered? Are you Garda-vetted? Where can I find your full name?’
Oh, come on, she felt about one more aggressive question away from hanging up, phoning Finn and telling him she never wanted to see him again. She replied in the tone she’d used for Viola in Twelfth Night two years ago in pub theatre.
‘I was contacted at very short notice by Mr Reynolds who, it seems, was called into work in an emergency.’
‘Very well, I am going to level with you. My older daughter has forwarded me a photo which I have examined, and I need to ask you a question. Are you an escort? Not that I am in any way prejudiced against your profession, but I would like to know.’
Oh Lord, she could murder Ramona for landing her in this.
‘I can assure you I am not. It’s simply a costume .?.?. I am a performer. It was all very last minute.’
Her story was about as watertight as a colander. There was an intake of breath and Marisha’s tone softened slightly.
‘I see. Well, in that case it’s not your fault.’
That was something, at least. Obviously, Mrs Boiled Spuds was the type to attack first and ask questions later.
‘For future reference, I like to be kept in the loop where my own young children are concerned and, as it happens, their father is not picking up his phone.’
Thankfully, Con had had enough sense to pause the murderous sound effects while his mother was listening. Cassie realised he was frozen to the spot and breathing shallowly as he took in every word. So much for doing all the right things, if your kid was afraid to breathe when you were around. Still, she’d the sense to keep her trap shut – this woman was threatening and could be trouble.
‘By the way, how old are you? You certainly don’t sound like a teenager.’
She hadn’t thought this through properly at all. If this woman had a mind to, she could level any accusation against her.
‘I am a responsible adult, and I can assure you that I am simply waiting for the children’s father to come home so I can leave.’ A knot of anxiety gripped her stomach. The conversation could have gone two ways, but thankfully Momzilla recognised that berating the person in charge of her children mightn’t be the wisest plan.
‘Well, thanks for stepping into the need for care, however inappropriate. My issue is clearly with their father, not with you. Hand me back to my son, please.’
Cassie overheard some instructions about breathing exercises and how many times to switch the bathroom light on and off, then the phone went dead.
‘D’you think I’m in trouble?’ he asked in a subdued voice.
‘No, I am, if anyone.’
‘Is Daddy? Sometimes she gets very cross with him.’
‘There’s just been a little mix-up around your dad’s work, that’s all.’
Poor kid, no wonder he liked to have some control over his vegetables, not to mention killing zombies in his spare time.
‘OK, five more minutes, then bed.’
Just then her phone buzzed. She slipped out into the hallway.
‘Finn? You have no idea what—’
‘I have, believe me, I’ve been getting texts. And from Sam too, who’s really going for the pawning them off with a babysitter line, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’
‘That’s twice. Look, I get it, she was within her rights to be annoyed. She was pretty tough about it, but why didn’t you just level with her?’
There was a pause she recognised – it felt exactly like his son’s.
‘It’s really not that simple.’
‘You’re scared of her. Don’t worry, I get it.’
It was true, Cassie realised, she still had the knot in her stomach, even though she’d handled herself in the moment.
‘I recognise that as a modus operandi: scare the wits out of someone then be sweet to them afterwards so they’re grateful and compliant.’
‘Look, I’ve got to go, we’re finishing up here. I’ll be back within an hour, max.’
‘Fine.’
She looked back towards the sitting-room door from which a small crack of light was falling on the ground like a folded fan. Poor kid was in there, straining his ears, trying to make sense of it all.
*?*?*
His bedtime routine seemed to last forever, with an elaborate ritual for brushing his teeth – one hundred strokes – then tapping the basin with his toothbrush fifty times, then counting each of the bathroom tiles as he touched them.
‘Ninety-two. That’s a nice even number.’
Cassie nodded, surprised by her own patience.
At the bedroom door, he baulked. From inside, Cici’s steady breathing was audible.
‘Cassie, I can’t go in unless you check.’
‘Under the .?.?.?’
He nodded. She crept in and looked under the bed; there was nothing but a stray shoe. She raised her thumb, and he made a dash for the ladder, clambered up and burrowed under the duvet.
‘Cassie,’ he hissed, ‘will you be hanging out with us again?’
‘I don’t know, why?’
‘So, we’ll have time to play Nuclear Zombie again?’
‘Would you like that?’
‘Yeah. We could change the setting up to normal difficulty because I could definitely do that. And then we could turn off auto-lock for enemies.’
‘Sounds like a great idea, Con, but I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be back.’ No point in lying to the poor kid. ‘I would like to, though. Maybe ask your dad?’
‘My dad is always busy working or .?.?. just busy.’
That was interesting.
‘We’ll see, night night.’
Here she was, like every adult that had ever palmed off a child with some empty platitude. Con struggled to relate to people and he’d chosen to trust her. She knew how fragile trust could be.
She crept back into the sitting room to find, to her horror, Thor contentedly chewing on the strap of Ramona’s shoe – thankfully, he was only getting started. She wrestled it from him then curled up on the sofa, trying to breathe. Nothing felt more attractive at that moment than a cold glass of white wine, but she was driving so that was out of the question, dammit.
Shortly afterwards, she heard the key and Finn put his head around the door. He was noticeably more relaxed than earlier.
‘Hey, how did you get on?’
‘With your younger kids, adorable, they’re little darlings. With the call from your ex-wife, let’s say I’m still getting over it.’
‘Look, this was crazy and I’m so sorry, and I can’t thank you enough. I can’t imagine what I’d have done without you.’
He watched in amusement as she buckled on the shoes.
‘Even if I did come dressed as a stripper.’
He broke into a soft laugh. ‘That is actually some outfit.’
‘Thanks. It didn’t get quite the outing I’d expected.’
‘Or that it deserved. I mean it, I’m taking you for dinner one Saturday. Do you think Ramona would lend you it again?’ He pulled her towards him. ‘It’s all over for tonight, we can relax.’
In spite of herself, Cassie felt her body respond to his hand sliding round her waist.
‘I can’t, not now. I’m the babysitter.’
‘They can’t hear.’
‘But I can. It’d feel inappropriate.’
There was something about Finn that didn’t quite seem to register the fuzzy things.
‘Daddy, can I have a glass of water?’ The piping little voice of Cici, who had just entered the room, caused her heart to plunge. Oh help, had she not had enough frights for one night?
‘Of course, lovie, the babysitter’s going now because Daddy’s home. I’ll bring it in to you.’
They telegraphed to each other as Cassie pulled on her coat. That was what adults did above kids’ heads, wasn’t it, but by the look on Cici’s little face, most kids seemed well able to crack the code.