Chapter 8
8
‘And the fairy princess and the blacksmith lived happily ever after.’ Anya closed the book and set it on the floor by the bed. ‘Lie down now,’ she said, lifting up the top of Freya’s quilt to encourage her daughter to do as she was told.
‘But I’m not tired,’ she protested, a telltale pout appearing.
Not tonight, please . She knew all the change must be unsettling, but sticking to a routine was vital. Everything had gone to pot after Drew’s death, and Anya had needed the comfort as much as Freya had, but once the initial shock had passed, Anya had worked hard to establish a new normal for them both. If she backslid now it would make settling in that much harder. ‘You will be once you lie down.’
‘But—’
‘This isn’t a discussion, Freya. Now lie down, please.’
Freya’s bottom lip worked like she still wanted to protest, but she did at least shuffle down in her bed until her head was resting on her pillow.
‘That’s my good girl.’ Anya leaned forward and kissed her forehead. ‘How about I put your special light on and you can listen to one of your sleepy stories?’
‘Yes, please.’ Freya rolled on her side, tucking one hand beneath her cheek, and Anya could feel her watching her as she fumbled for the plug for the little lamp that cast coloured lights across the walls and ceiling. They’d seen it in the central aisle in Aldi, where in any given week you might find a slow cooker sitting in between a screwdriver set and a cuddly toy. It always reminded Anya a bit of the prizes conveyor belt they used to have at the end of The Generation Game . She flipped the power switch on and lines of soft pink and white light illuminated the room. Retrieving her tablet from her bedside table, Anya opened her relaxation app and scrolled through to the kids’ stories section. She clicked on Freya’s favourite playlist and set the volume low.
‘How’s that?’
‘Thanks, Mummy.’ Freya already sounded sleepy.
Anya stroked her hair and kissed her once more. ‘I’ll only be in the next room, okay?’
‘Okay. Mummy?’
‘Yes, darling?’
‘Will Daddy still hear my prayers even though we live here now?’
Anya’s heart lurched. A well-meaning relative on Drew’s side had put the idea in Freya’s head after the funeral. Anya wished she’d kept her mouth shut, because neither she nor Drew had any particular religious leanings and trying to explain the concept of God to a broken-hearted three-year-old had been the last thing Anya had needed. She’d finally settled on a simple message that Daddy would always watch over her and Freya could talk to him any time she wanted to and he would be listening. If there was an afterlife, Anya hoped the bit Drew was in was carpeted in Lego bricks that he was forced to step on, but she smiled as she knelt down beside the bed. ‘Of course he will.’ She touched a finger to Freya’s cheek. ‘Is there something in particular you wanted to talk to him about?’
Freya smiled. ‘I wanted to tell him about our new house and caking with Ma and Pa.’
Anya kissed her cheek. ‘I’m sure he’d love to hear all about that.’ She rose and made her way towards the door.
‘Mummy?’
Here we go … ‘Yes, Freya?’
‘Can I meet your friend when he comes?’
Anya glanced at her watch; it was nearly five to seven. Rick struck her as the kind of person who would show up on time, so the odds on her daughter being asleep when he arrived were very small. On the other hand, if Freya got up, the chances of getting her back to bed again were even smaller. She settled on the easiest solution. ‘I’ll bring him in to say goodnight, but only if you stay in bed like a good girl.’
‘Okay.’
Leaving the door open a couple of inches, Anya hurried across the lounge to the kitchenette and crouched in front of the oven to check the pasta bake. The invitation to dinner had slipped out earlier before Anya had considered the logistics of her tiny kitchen, the limited food in her cupboards and the state of her bank balance. Freya loved pasta, so Anya had cooked extra when she’d been making her tea and chucked it in an oven dish with some frozen veg and a jar of sauce. Not exactly cordon bleu, but it would be tasty and filling and that was the best she could offer right now.
Everything was bubbling, so she turned it down. It would only be a case of sprinkling over a bit of grated cheese and whacking the temperature back up when they were ready to eat. There was a soft rap and Anya turned to see Rick waving at her from the other side of the sliding glass doors. She beckoned for him to come in. ‘I knew you’d be on time,’ she said with a smile as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
His own smile faltered for a moment. ‘I can come back a bit later if you’re not ready.’
‘Oh no, that’s not what I meant at all and I’m exactly the same; in fact, I’ve been known to walk around the block because I’ve arrived somewhere too early.’
Rick’s smile turned a little sheepish. ‘I might have done a couple of laps of Ryan and Helen’s garden before I knocked.’
His admission relaxed her more than anything else he could’ve said. ‘You didn’t need to do that.’ She gestured towards the small lounge area. ‘There’s not a lot of room, so I’m afraid it’ll be trays on knees. I should’ve thought about the logistics when I invited you to dinner.’
‘A tray will be fine, honestly. It’s just a treat to have someone else cook.’ Rick unzipped the backpack he’d let slide to the crook of his arm. ‘I’ve printed off a few bits and pieces for us to go over.’ Reaching inside, he pulled out an A4 cardboard folder and offered it to her.
She placed it on the little coffee table. ‘Great, thank you. Shall we look at it while we eat?’
‘Sounds good to me.’ The next thing he pulled out of the bag was a slender green bottle. ‘I didn’t want to turn up empty handed, but I also thought you might not want a drink during the week, so I bought this.’
She took the bottle when he handed it to her. It was a sparkling raspberry cordial with a label from a shop she’d never heard of. ‘That’s very thoughtful, thank you. I didn’t know there was a deli in the village.’
He grinned. ‘We’ve got all the fancy shops these days. It’s actually a new business, so I’m just doing my bit to shop local.’ He dug in his front pocket. ‘Last thing, I promise.’
She laughed with delight when he held out two pink and white lollipops. ‘Oh, that’s a blast from the past.’
‘I thought Freya might want one too, though I wasn’t sure on your policy on sweets.’
‘She’ll be thrilled to bits. I hope you don’t mind but she was curious to meet you, so I said I’d take you in to say goodnight.’
‘I don’t mind at all. I was trying to think, earlier, the last time I might have seen her. She was still a baby, so it must be two or three years ago.’
‘Three. Drew wanted to go to Spain the year after. Said it was quicker to fly there than drive down here.’ She glanced away, not wanting to talk about him.
‘Ah, well it’s not surprising if Freya doesn’t remember me, then.’ Rick’s smile was easy as he dropped his rucksack next to his feet and Anya was grateful for him not pursuing the subject.
‘Let me just check if she’s still awake.’ Anya approached the bedroom door and nudged it open a little wider. ‘Freya?’ She kept her voice low.
Her daughter raised her head, her eyes heavy-lidded. ‘Mummy?’
‘Rick’s here to wish you goodnight.’ She stepped a little further into the room to make space for him at the door. He was so tall and broad, he made the little summer house seem even smaller.
‘Hi, Freya.’ Anya didn’t miss the way he automatically matched her soft tone. ‘Wow, I love your room, and especially the lights. It’s so pretty and cosy.’
‘Green is my favourite colour,’ Freya said as the dancing lights shifted colour and the room transformed into an underwater world .
‘It’s my favourite too,’ Rick replied, pointing to his bottle-green and white checked shirt. ‘Well. I don’t want to interrupt your story, I just wanted to wish you goodnight.’
‘G’night.’ The end of the word was swallowed in a big yawn.
‘Sleep tight,’ Anya said as she gestured for Rick to move back and the pair of them edged out of the room. ‘I’m right here if you need anything.’ She pulled the door almost closed and smiled at Rick.
‘Thanks for that.’
‘No worries.’
Once again she was surprised at how much space he seemed to take up. As though realising he was looming over her, Rick backed away towards the sofa.
‘Dinner will be ready in a few minutes if you’re ready to eat? Sorry it’s not anything fancy, just a pasta bake.’ Anya moved over to the fridge and pulled out the bag of grated cheese. She set it on the counter next to the oven then looked around for her oven gloves. She could’ve sworn she’d just had them…
‘Looking for these?’
She turned to find Rick holding a cushion in one hand and the oven gloves in the other. Way to look like a complete fool, Anya . ‘How on earth did they get over there?’ She remembered putting the pasta in the oven then noticing the sofa was still a mess from where Freya had decided to build a den using the cushions and the throw Anya had draped over the back.
Dropping the cushion, Rick walked over, pausing at the table to pick up the bottle of cordial on his way past. ‘Here.’ He handed her the gloves. ‘Shall I pour us both a drink?’
‘Oh, yes, that would be great. There’s glasses in the cupboard to your left, and if you wouldn’t mind grabbing some cutlery from the drawer in front of you?’
‘Of course not. ’
While he did that, Anya opened the oven, leaning back to avoid the blast of fragrant steam.
‘Smells good,’ Rick said as she lifted out the bake and sprinkled the top with cheese.
She smiled at him, then hesitated with her hand in the bag. ‘Enough, or a bit more?’ she asked him.
‘Is there even such a thing as too much cheese?’
How did he always manage to know exactly the right thing to say? She scooped out another large handful and added it to the top of the dish. ‘A man after my own heart.’