19. Chapter 19
Jack
There is a very serious negotiation happening on my bedroom floor.
“I don’t need three hoodies,” I say.
“You do,” Alfie replies immediately.
“I really don’t.”
“What if you get cold?”
“It’s Madrid. It’s warm.”
He considers this carefully.
“You might still get cold.”
I glance over at Ava. She is sitting cross-legged on my bed, watching this like it’s the most entertaining thing she’s seen all week. Barefoot. One of my pillows behind her back. Like she’s been in our life forever instead of three weeks.
“Are you going to help me here?” I ask.
She smiles. “I think Alfie is making some very strong arguments.”
“Ava agrees with me,” Alfie says.
“Traitor,” I mutter.
My suitcase is open on the bed. Shirts on one side. Training kit on the other. Alfie has appointed himself Official Helper, which mostly involves bringing me things I absolutely do not need.
And Ava is watching us. When we first met she would have been perched carefully on the edge of the bed.
Now she just reaches over and refolds one of my shirts.
“Corners,” she says gently to Alfie. “Otherwise it wrinkles.”
He watches closely, then carefully copies her.
Three weeks.
Three weeks of dinners that were supposed to be once a week turning into whenever she’s free. Of her knowing where the mugs are. Of Alfie asking is Ava coming like it’s obvious she would.
Of me already missing her when she’s not here.
“You need this,” Alfie says, bringing me a book.
“A dinosaur encyclopaedia?”
“In case you get bored.”
“I’m working.”
“You still get bored.”
Fair point.
“Maybe a smaller book,” Ava suggests.
Alfie disappears and comes back with something else.
“A picture,” he says.
It’s one from his room. Him and me at the park last summer. Ice cream on his face. My arm around him.
My chest tightens a little.
“That’s a good one,” I say.
“You can take it so you don’t forget me.”
I crouch down slightly so we’re eye level.
“I could never forget you.”
“You might.”
“I won’t.”
I tap my phone. “Also, I already have a photo of us here.”
I show him my lock screen.
He studies it very seriously.
“Oh.”
Then after a second his face lights up.
“We should take a new one.”
“A new one?”
“With Ava.”
The room goes very still for half a second.
Ava freezes slightly on the bed. I see it. That flicker of uncertainty she still has sometimes, like she’s not sure she’s allowed this.
“You think so?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “Because she is here now.”
Simple as that.
I look at Ava.
She looks back like she’s trying not to hope too much.
“Alright,” I say. “Come here then.”
Alfie climbs onto the bed and grabs my phone.
“I can press the button,” he announces.
“You definitely cannot press the button.”
“I can.”
“You absolutely cannot.”
Ava laughs softly.
“I think we should let him try.”
I sigh. “This is how disasters happen.”
We sit close together on the edge of the bed. Alfie wedged proudly between us like this is his project.
Ava’s shoulder touches mine. She goes a little still. Then relaxes.
“Ready?” Alfie says.
“We are not ready,” I say.
“We are ready,” Ava laughs.
Click.
The photo is slightly crooked. Ava is mid-laugh. I’m looking at her instead of the camera. Alfie looks extremely proud.
“Perfect,” he declares.
I look at it.
He’s right.
It is. Perfect.
“Can that be your new one?” he asks.
I don’t even hesitate.
“Yeah,” I say. “It can.”
Ava looks down at her hands but she’s smiling.
Alfie seems satisfied with his work and slides off the bed.
“You also need socks,” he says.
“I have socks.”
“Granny says to always bring a lot of socks.”
“Fine. I’ll pack more socks.”
Ava snorts.
Alfie climbs back onto the bed next to her now, leaning lightly into her side without thinking. She automatically smooths his hair back.
No hesitation anymore.
Just… natural.
I close the suitcase slowly and watch them.
She knows Alfie likes his toast cut into squares not triangles. Knows I forget to eat when I’m stressed. Knows which cupboard the biscuits are in.
Somewhere along the way she stopped feeling like someone I was dating and started feeling like someone we were quietly making space for.
“Right,” I say. “I think I’m ready.”
Alfie jumps down.
“Can I help carry it?”
“It weighs more than you do.”
“I could try.”
Ava smiles. “You could supervise.”
He nods. “I will supervise.”
He walks out like a man with responsibility.
I wait until he disappears.
Then I look at Ava.
She looks back, that same soft look she had in her cottage doorway weeks ago.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods.
“I like this,” she admits.
“So do I.”
She reaches for my hand without really thinking.
“We are moving fast,” I say.
“Does it feel fast to you?”
I think about the photo. About Alfie leaning into her. About how normal this already feels.
“No,” I say. “Feels right.”
That smile again.
“I agree,” she says.
From the hallway Alfie shouts, “Dad! I am supervising!”
I squeeze her hand once before we go.
I already hate having to leave my two most important people in the world for a sodding friendly.
Madrid is already warm when we step outside. Early morning sun, that dry heat that still feels strange to someone raised on northern rain. The lads are half on their phones, half complaining about the flight, staff counting heads like we might lose someone between baggage claim and the bus.
Routine.
The kind that used to be my whole world.
I switch my phone back on without really thinking about it. Just habit. Flight mode off. Messages flooding in. Notifications I don’t care about.
And then the lock screen appears.
Us.
My mouth pulls into a small smile before I can stop it.
This morning had started at five.
Which had gone about as well as you’d expect.
“Alfie… mate… time to get up.”
“No.”
“It’s morning.”
“It’s still night.”
“It isn’t.”
“It is if it’s dark.”
Hard to argue with that logic when you’re barely awake yourself.
It had taken fifteen minutes, gentle persuasion, and eventually the promise that he could choose the music in the car.
Which had meant dinosaur songs. At five thirty in the morning. At a volume that probably violated several international treaties.
Still worth it.
Dropping him off had been the harder part.
Not because he was upset. Because he wasn’t.
His friend Josh had answered the door still in his pyjamas, his dad behind him with a mug of coffee and that tired single-parent nod that says we’re both just doing our best here.
“Don’t worry,” he’d said. “I’ll get them both to school.”
I’d believed him. You learn to recognise the reliable ones.
Alfie had already been halfway inside.
“Bye Dad!”
“Oi,” I’d said. “Come here.”
He had come back for a quick hug, distracted already.
“Don’t forget to call.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
Then he’d run back inside without drama because five-year-olds don’t linger unless something feels wrong.
Still, getting back into the car alone had felt… quieter than usual.
Mum and Dad only get back from France around lunchtime. They’d booked that trip months ago, back when the friendlies hadn't been agreed yet. You don’t cancel something like that unless you have to.
Not ideal.
But manageable.
I’d thought briefly about asking Ava if she could take him to school.
The thought had come easily.
Too easily.
And that’s exactly why I hadn’t asked.
Three weeks is still three weeks. Even if it feels like she’s been here longer. Even if Alfie already leans into her like she’s safe. Even if she’s started leaving a hair tie on my bedside table without noticing.
You don’t hand someone your kid at six in the morning unless you’re sure you’re not asking too much.
So I hadn’t asked.
Still not sure if that was restraint or cowardice.
My phone buzzes again.
I glance down absentmindedly.
And my stomach drops.
3 missed calls – St. Cuthbert’s Primary School
For a second I just stare at it.
Then I’m already moving away from the group, noise fading behind me as something cold settles in my chest.
I press call.
“St. Cuthbert’s Primary School, reception.”
“Hi. This is Jack Westland. I’ve just seen I had missed calls about my son, Alfie Westland. Is he alright?”
“One moment please, Mr Westland. I’ll just put you through to Mrs Carter.”
My pulse starts climbing.
A click.
Then a calm, steady voice.
“Mr Westland? This is Margaret Carter, headteacher. First of all, please don’t panic. Alfie is conscious and talking but we had to take him to hospital.”
My stomach drops so fast it feels like I’ve missed a step on the stairs.