Chapter 18
Eighteen
Nash
Standing on the doorstep of Drew and Caitlin’s home to collect Nancy for our day together is nerve-wracking. I haven’t slept very well, too many hours spent going over and over my conversation with Corey and questioning whether I’m making the right choice.
Every rational bone in my body knows that I am going through an incredibly challenging and exciting life change, and that my focus is, and rightly should be, fully on my daughter.
On settling her into her new home, our relationship as father and daughter, and her new routines, as well as a new location, new family…
the list of things to help Nancy acclimatise to is endless, and as her dad, the responsibility for supporting her with all of it falls to me.
And I wouldn’t want it to be any other way.
This is exactly what I’ve wanted my whole life.
The inconvenience of meeting Corey right at this point in my life is, however, a bitter pill to swallow.
When Nancy and I are more settled, and I can start to contemplate dating or beginning a relationship, who knows where he’ll be in his life.
He could meet someone tomorrow who sweeps him off his feet.
He could go back to teaching or back to studying a new path.
He could build a whole new future for himself that won’t leave time for a single dad who wants to be with him.
He could leave.
But part of being a parent – an adult, really – is knowing that sometimes life isn’t fair, and we don’t always get the fairy tale ending.
Now would be a truly disastrous time to try to start something.
Not least because Corey needs to work through some of his own trauma so he can be sure that a relationship is even something he truly wants.
I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if, with some space and distance, he decided that he wanted to be on his own for some time while he figures out his future.
No matter how attracted I am to Corey, physically and emotionally, it’s bad timing. Right guy, wrong time, just like he said. It doesn’t mean I can’t curse the universe a little.
These were the thoughts I wrestled back and forth with all night that left me in desperate need of coffee and pastry this morning.
I stopped at Poppy’s on my way out of the village for a large Americano and an even larger almond croissant I ate on the drive here.
I had an embarrassing amount of icing sugar, flaked almonds, and pastry crumbs to brush off my clothing when I climbed out of the car.
Drew pulls the door open, and I am immediately engulfed in a strawberry-scented whirlwind of legs and arms as Nancy races past his legs and leaps up for a hug. We’re both laughing as I head inside, my daughter wrapped around me like a barnacle as she tells me all about her morning so far.
“I had toast,” she says as I set her down in the kitchen.
“Did you? What did you have on it?”
“Nella,” she says, as though I should know what that is.
Caitlin holds up a jar of Nutella from where she’s clearing up the breakfast detritus, and I smile in relief.
“Nutella?” I ask, and Nancy nods.
“Yeah. Nella.”
Drew snorts a laugh. Caitlin smiles. I am enchanted by Nancy’s confidence in her rightness, even when she isn’t quite there.
After a whirlwind of tooth brushing, using the loo, washing hands, getting wrapped up in coats and scarves, Nancy says a hasty goodbye to Drew and Caitlin without even looking over her shoulder as we leave the house.
“I’ll be back with her by lunchtime,” I call over mine as I’m dragged to the car.
I secure her in her seat, bopping her on the nose, which elicits a squeal of enjoyment, and then climb into the driver’s seat.
We take the coast road from Happisburgh, through the villages of Eccles-on-Sea, Sea Palling, and Waxham, before we come to Horsey Gap, the same beach I brought Corey to all those weeks ago.
I’d been remembering our visit here last night, and after Nancy’s first visit to my house with Drew and Caitlin two days ago, I knew this was where I wanted to bring her on our outing today.
She’d been ecstatic with the mural Corey painted in her room, especially the seals she kept pointing at while waving Wrinkles’ – the name she’s given to the stuffed seal I gave her – small fin at them in ‘hello’.
We bundle out of the car and pull on our wellies that I brought with me from home – thank God for my mother – and Nancy is delighted with her purple unicorn boots with handles instead of ears so she can tug them on herself.
We march along the footpath, Nancy brimming with excitement about being at the beach.
Drew told me they’d taken her to the seaside last summer and she’d spent hours building sand-butterflies. Not castles or forts with moats. No, she’d piled up sand and shaped it with her hands until she had somewhat of a shape of a butterfly.
Caitlin showed me a picture, and it was close enough. You could at least see what it was supposed to be. But she enjoyed herself, and that’s the most important thing.
As we reach the dunes and start to climb, Nancy seems to sink backwards more than she takes any strides forward.
I chuckle at her frustration when she stops still and stomps her unicorn boot a little on the sand.
Concerned I’m about to face my first meltdown with nobody here to help me, I brace myself, but she simply turns around and lifts her arms at me.
“Up,” she demands, and I scoop her up easily. She’s desperate to get where we’re going, though, so she leans back and pushes up, trying to see over the crest of the dunes, and it takes all my upper body strength to keep hold of her. Who knew just carrying a child was such a workout?
“Ready?” I ask, as we’re just about to reach the top. She bounces excitedly, letting loose a high-pitched squeak that makes me wince slightly.
“Look,” I say, as we are finally able to see over the edge of the dunes and down onto the beach below, where the colony of grey seals is redolent in the winter sunshine.
“Wrinkles,” she squeals loudly, and I shush her quickly.
“We have to be very quiet, poppet, so we don’t scare them. OK?”
She nods sagely and proceeds to whisper-shout in my ear.
“Can I cuddle them?” she asks, and I smile at her apologetically.
“No, sweetheart, they’re wild animals, which means we have to leave them alone. But we can stay here and watch them and wave at them for as long as you like.”
Nancy is delighted and, when I put her down from my hold, she promptly plops her bum down on a tuft of grass and watches them as though auditioning to be the next David Attenborough.
I look to the sky and, in my head, say a quick prayer for the elderly man.
When he passes, several generations of British people will mourn as though they’ve just lost their own grandad.
‘As long as she likes’ turns out to be about twenty-five minutes, before Nancy is bored and wants to do something else. We trudge back to the car, and after some boot shaking and a quick shoe change, we’re on our way to Mum and Dad’s home.
The next step of our transition plan is to introduce Nancy to her grandparents.
Wren is out on the farm today, and she knows to keep clear of the farmhouse so we don’t overwhelm her.
Nancy goes quiet in her car seat when I pull into the driveway, and when I unfasten the safety belts of her seat, she quickly wraps her arms around my neck, making it clear she wants to be carried.
It’s a little awkward to navigate both of us out of the back seat with her clinging on to me without banging our heads, but I manage it with only a small bump to the back of mine.
Mum and Dad both come outside to meet Nancy, Mum barely containing her tears, but Nancy is nervous, and she buries her face in my neck, not making eye contact.
“Oh, sweetheart—” Mum starts, but I give her a tiny shake of my head and smile to indicate that she’s OK.
“Shall we have a nice cup of tea?” Dad asks, reading the situation perfectly as he always does.
“That sounds great,” I reply. “And what about you, poppet?” I say, leaning back a little to catch my daughter’s eye.
“Would you like some hot chocolate?” She’s looking at me from the corner of her eye without moving her head, and my craning neck can only hold that position for a second or two, but when she nods slightly before pulling Wrinkles closer to her face, I see Mum clasp her hands in front of her chest before bustling into the kitchen.
“Righto, well I best get some of my famous hot chocolate extravaganza on the go, hadn’t I?” Mum’s voice is chipper, if a little thick, and she quickly sets about pouring milk and a little cream into a small saucepan, before dropping some chocolate pieces into it to melt.
As Nancy spots the chocolate and the extra cream Mum pours into a bowl ready for whipping, Nancy wriggles and wants to be let down. She makes her way slowly to the edge of the kitchen counter and peers over the top, watching Mum like a hawk.
Dad goes into the boot room off the back of the kitchen and reappears a moment later with a small stepstool in hand. With a wink at Nancy, he nods his head toward my Mum. I’m floored when, with only a little hesitation, she goes to stand next to Mum and lets Dad help her up onto the stool.
I spend the next few minutes watching my mother weave her magic on my daughter.
Nancy’s eyes are wide in delight at the hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream, shaved chocolate, and even a wafer biscuit.
She’s looking up at my mum like she’s a magical creature, and Mum, for her part, just gazes at her granddaughter adoringly.