Читать книгу Be My Baby - A. L. Michael - Страница 10

Chapter One

Well, Mollie thought as she desperately sipped her glass of Pinot Grigio, Ben was perfectly nice. But he was going to have to die.

This one was all Kit’s fault, suggesting a ‘friend’ from work. Ben was an accountant, he went to the gym every day at five a.m., he loved holidays in the south of France and would choose a good cheeseboard over a dessert, every time. Ben also chewed with his mouth open, and if she had to look at the half-masticated cow he’d been rolling around his trap whilst he’d been talking, for one moment more, Mollie thought she might vomit. Also, the man didn’t ask questions.

‘Well, I should probably get going, got a big morning tomorrow, you know,’ Mollie shrugged, signalling desperately to the waitress for the bill, and reaching for her purse.

‘Big morning?’ Ben smiled, ‘I thought you worked in the arts? Surely it’s all ten a.m. starts and parties?’Ah, so he did ask questions. Stupid questions.

‘Nope, I’ve started a company creating healthy, exciting food for kids. I’m being interviewed for a morning TV slot. Mollie Makes...’ Mollie shrugged awkwardly, ignoring the fact that, whilst that was true, that wasn’t happening tomorrow. Tomorrow morning she was taking her daughter to school. Not that he knew she had a daughter, because Ben didn’t ask questions.

‘Oh no, not more of all that “kids can eat quinoa” bollocks, is it?’ Ben laughed, slurping at his wine. The wine he’d spent ten minutes telling the waitress didn’t have a full enough body, and was incorrectly described on the menu. ‘I ate chicken nuggets and chips all the time as a kid. If those obese kiddies are fat, it’s because they’re lazy and need to get off their games consoles.’

Mollie widened her eyes, but said nothing, instead sending a look of relieved appreciation as the waitress delivered the bill. The girl caught her eye and quirked a lip, she must have seen a billion bad dates at this table. Mollie brandished her purse desperately, hoping the waitress wouldn’t leave.

‘Oh no, no, Molls, my women don’t pay,’ Ben shook his head, reaching for his wallet, ‘besides, I don’t suppose you’ve got a gold card, have you?’

‘No, I applied, but when they asked for my soul as collateral, I had to decline,’ Mollie smiled sweetly, and Ben looked at her in surprise.

‘Well look, Molls...’ he pulled out her chair as she stood, ‘let’s talk about where this is going, I’m an upfront guy, can’t afford to waste time, time is money you know. So, how many dates before I get the keys to the kingdom, so to speak?’ He raised his eyebrows in what he seemed to think was a playful manner and grinned, hands in his pockets as he shrugged.

Mollie pursed her lips as if she was thinking, ‘Ahh, I see, I mean, you’ve got out the gold card, so...’

‘Exactly! I knew you were the sort of woman who understood how the world works.’

She was that sort of woman, Mollie realised. She was a woman in her late twenties, who had successfully raised a child, who had started a business, left her crappy home town and created a brilliant life. And the only thing that was missing was someone to share it with.

But apparently, in the eleven years she had been raising a child, men had started to believe that swiping right was what their opposable thumbs were truly for. No more. If this was how the dating world worked, then the fairy tale was dead before it began. It was time to put away the politeness.

‘Right, well,’ Mollie pouted, twirling her blonde curls around her finger thoughtfully, ‘I’m afraid my vagina doesn’t come with a card chip-and-pin machine. Or contactless. But thanks though. Word of advice? Maybe try chewing with your mouth closed in future. Or just keep your mouth closed throughout the date, that would work too.’

Mollie threw her shoulders back as she walked off, and the waitress grinned at her, clapping her hands silently in applause. Well, for her first date in eleven years... that went as well as could be expected.

The girls were waiting at the studio when she got back, making use of their new ‘business purchase’ – a projector – watching The Breakfast Club against the wall, curled up on some massive cushions. They were going to start doing movie nights at the Ruby Rooms, as the evenings got darker. She was working on some posh popcorn recipes. Or she would be, when she had a moment to think beyond Mollie Makes, running the gallery, and being there for her daughter.

Evie paused, looking at her watch, frowning and looking back at Mollie. Chelsea was about to throw a handful of popcorn in her mouth, and stopped.

‘So?’ They both looked up, eyes wide and hopeful.

Mollie threw her bag on the table and pulled her heels off, collapsing into the oversized pillows next to them and reaching for the popcorn. ‘So, I’m going to murder Kit. How come he’s so lovely and he can be friends with a dickhead like that?’

Chelsea bit her lip, debating defending her fiancé’s choice in the set-up, ‘I mean, friend might be a bit strong... acquaintance, work colleague...’

‘One that he felt would be a good match for me?’ Mollie huffed, ‘Has he met me? I mean, does Kit actually like me, because that felt a lot like a punishment. Is he still annoyed about that time I shouted because he gave Esme that triple chocolate fudge cupcake before dinner?’

‘It was a sweet thought,’ Evie said fairly, handing over a bowl of Maltesers, ‘it can’t have been that bad.’

‘He asked me how many times he was going to have to pay for dinner before he got the, and I quote, “keys to the kingdom”.’

Evie raised her eyebrows and looked at Chelsea, ‘We’re going to have to talk to Kit. There was a level of trust involved here. He may need to be punished. Or he’s just not allowed to have opinions any more.’

Chelsea rolled her eyes, ‘It comes from a place of love. He just wants you to be happy.’

‘And he wants me to have a date for your wedding.’

‘Be flattered – Kit thinks you’re so wonderful he doesn’t want to deprive anyone of your company.’

Mollie wrinkled her nose, ‘Well that’s lovely, but Kit gets no say any more, and if it throws off your seating chart, I reserve the right to tell him to go to hell.’

She stole a sip of Chelsea’s wine, then shook her head, ‘I’m sorry. I just... I was actually hopeful. You guys forced me into this, but I was kind of excited, to get to do the dating thing. I mean... I’ve never dated, really. Not in an adult way.’

Evie snorted, ‘Yeah, I mean Jamie was nice and everything, but a bucket of popcorn and a movie is hardly how adults date these days.’

Mollie’s face went blank and she pursed her lips together, not saying anything. Wrong move, mentioning Jay. They didn’t mention Jay. Ever.

The silence stretched on until moment passed, and Evie tried to carry on, ‘Anyway, it was a bad experience, the first time at anything is crap. Try, try again, right?’

‘This isn’t my world,’ Mollie tugged at her hair, ‘Online dating? Apps and setups? You guys didn’t have to do that. Is it so bad that I want a meet-cute? Do people not have meet-cutes any more?’

Chelsea frowned, ‘I don’t think people know when they’re having a meet-cute. I mean, I got chatted up by some obnoxious git at a party, and I let him carry on talking because I’d had too much wine and his eyes were pretty. And she,’ Chelsea pointed at Evie, ‘spent weeks fighting with some guy she called the devil more than once, before realising she actually wanted to fight with him in between kissing.’

‘Nothing cute there,’ Evie nodded.

Mollie flipped her hair in frustration, hiding behind the long strands and staring at her friends from behind the curtain, ‘I don’t know why I agreed to do this. Why I thought I wanted to. I don’t want to. I’m happy. We’re happy. Esme’s happy. Why do I need to date?’

‘Because you’re not avoiding it because you’re happy, you’re avoiding it because you’re scared,’ Chelsea said sagely, pouring Mollie a glass of wine, mainly so she could drink her own in peace without it being stolen every five seconds.

‘So what?’ Mollie pouted, crossing her arms.

‘When you’re more immature than your kid, it’s time to wonder about the situation,’ Evie agreed, ‘I mean, I haven’t seen you pout since you were seventeen and someone stole your art project idea.’

Mollie twitched her mouth and rolled her eyes, before smiling. ‘Okay, fine, but this was horrible. I mean, is this what dating is? You told me I had to start dating again, and I’ve shown willing. I mean, what, I’m just meant to put up with a year of dick pics, obnoxious comments about paying the bill and that up-and-down eye movement as they scan my thighs, until my Prince Charming arrives, one hand on his cock and the other on his bank card? This is not my future!’

Chelsea handed over the wine and patted Mollie’s shoulder gently, ‘Babe, you did what I asked. You put yourself out there. If you are truly telling me you don’t want to be with anyone, you don’t want to meet someone who might be a loving partner, who might see all the awesomeness that we see, and might be an amazing dad to Ez, well, then you don’t have to do it any more. But if even a tiny part of you wants the happy ever after, you’ve got to start sifting through the shit to find the gold. Dick pics and all.’

Mollie sighed, rolling her head back against the bean bag. ‘I want the happy ever after. Hell, I’ll take the happy-for-a-while.’

‘Adda girl,’ Chelsea grinned.

‘Here’s to Mollie, for being brave!’ Evie held up her glass dramatically.

‘Here’s to me, for telling that dickhead where to shove his gold card,’ she grinned, holding her drink up.

‘Hear hear!’

***

‘I’m just saying, it’s important to be able to do things for yourself,’ Ruby shrugged, brandishing the screwdriver in her left hand and the plug in her right. ‘Jamie might not always be there to do this stuff for you.’

Mollie narrowed her eyes, ‘I thought we’d been through this. He passed the stupid test. You like Jamie.’

‘I do like Jamie,’ Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘He may even be the only bloke who has a good heart, good intentions and a good smile, but I’m still saying, sometimes shit happens.’

‘Not to me and him.’

Ruby tried not to laugh, pressing her lips together, and twirled her red curls around her fingertips, head tilted in question. She waited.

Mollie laughed, ‘Okay, that was pretty pathetic, I’ll admit it.’

‘It’s okay, you’re in luuuurve,’ Ruby teased.

They sat quietly, cross-legged on Mollie’s bed as Ruby wondered how to proceed.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Ruby said, smiling as Mollie blushed, her long blonde hair falling effortlessly over her shoulders, her bright brown eyes soft and warm. ‘And people will want to do things for you because you’re beautiful. But when you let them, they expect something in return.’

‘Like those boys who give you lifts to town because you flutter your eyelashes and tell them you’d be just oh so grateful?’ Mollie raised an eyebrow.

‘You’re not me, babe.’

‘So?’

‘You’re good,’ Ruby shrugged. ‘You wouldn’t lead someone on, you’d feel guilty, you’d feel like you owed them. And an owed favour is the worst thing. It puts you at a disadvantage.’

‘Ruby Montgomery, the Godfather of Badgeley,’ Mollie snorted.

‘Look, I’m just saying, you’re going to uni, and I want to teach you how to change a fucking fuse, okay?’

Mollie rolled her eyes, ‘But what you’re really saying is – people leave. So I shouldn’t wait for Jamie to change a fuse. Because people leave.’

‘I’m saying people let you down. And that always feels worse when you’re sitting in a room in the dark because you couldn’t figure out how to fix your bloody lamp, you difficult cow!’

Mollie laughed, ‘Okay, okay, show me. But I will never believe that people always let you down.’

‘And as long as you can sort things for yourself, you don’t have to,’ Ruby said.

***

The next day, Esme sat at the breakfast bar and looked at her mother shrewdly, ‘So, you went on a date...’

Esme had never really been like a normal child, but with her light blonde hair parted into two pigtails, and her oversized glasses perched on the end of her nose, she could almost pass for your standard eleven-year-old. Except for the Led Zeppelin t-shirt and the drawn-on beauty spot. And those eyes that managed to see through to your soul and demand honesty.

‘Yes, I did,’ Mollie put down a plate in front of her. ‘Eat your toast.’

‘Did he bring you flowers? And say that you looked pretty?’

No, he told me my work was worthless but he’d still bang me.

‘Not everything’s like it is in the movies, baby,’ Mollie shrugged, stroking her daughter’s cheek.

‘So he’s not going to be my new daddy?’

Mollie whirled around and felt her jaw drop as her daughter giggled, winking at her. ‘Evie told me to say that.’

‘Tell-tale!’ came Evie’s muffled voice from her bedroom, down the hall.

‘Hate you!’ Mollie yelled to her friend.

‘No you don’t!’ came the response.

Mollie rolled her eyes and sat down on the barstool next to her daughter. ‘Okay, so you have questions? I’ll answer them. I know this must be weird for you.’

‘I think it’s great! My friend Olivia’s dad isn’t married either. Her mum left.’ Esme shrugged, ‘Apparently she was overly good friends with the gardener, that’s what Olivia says.’

Mollie snorted a little to herself, ‘Well, I’m sorry for Olivia, that must be really sad for her.’

‘Olivia says I’m really lucky that I never knew my dad, because now I don’t miss him.’

Mollie tilted her head slightly, stroking her daughter’s hair and feeling that pang in her chest, that underlying fear that she wasn’t doing a good enough job, clawing at her once again.

‘Would you rather I didn’t go out on any more dates?’ Mollie looked into her daughter’s light eyes, so unlike her own, ‘I don’t mind. I’m happy without all of that.’

‘I don’t mind, Mum, God, whatever,’ Esme rolled her eyes, ‘but can I go to Olivia’s after school tonight? She was going to teach me a dance routine.’

Mollie frowned, ‘A dance routine?’

Esme shrugged, a slight blush on her cheeks as she took a bite of the toast, ‘Yeah.’

Mollie shrugged, deciding the intended heart-to-heart had been appropriately over the top for her child and agreed, hustling her out of the house and down to school. The days were getting cooler, that smell of autumn leaves as Camden exploded into yellows and oranges. The leaves were scattered on the ground and Esme loved to crunch on them as they walked. Some days, Evie joined Mollie on the walk, and they swung Esme between them, other days it was just Mollie, taking that all important time to chat with her kid.

They stopped at the school gates, and Mollie looked past her child to the other children in the school yard, ‘Are you enjoying school Ez? If you ever want to have your friends over to the studio, we can do something, you know...’

‘Mum! I’ve got to go, okay!’ Esme huffed, ‘Whatever! Come get me from Olivia’s house. Her dad’s gonna text you the address.’

Mollie felt her chest tighten, that she was just meant to let her kid go with these people. She’d seen Olivia, at school, but hadn’t seen this mysterious green-fingered mum, or the jilted dad. But Esme had been quiet and withdrawn those first few weeks at the new school, having left all of her friends behind in Badgeley when they moved over the summer. This was the first friend she’d mentioned, and Mollie couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

‘Okay, I love you.’

Esme rolled her eyes again, briefly kissed her mum’s cheek, and ran off into the school playground. Mollie frowned as she noticed all of the badges and patches were missing from Esme’s backpack. Something wasn’t right. She felt it in the pit of her stomach. Esme was changing.

She thought about it as she walked back to the studio, making lists in her head of all the small things that had changed since the school term had started.

Esme had always been different, in the most beautiful and wonderful way. She was like a time portal. She loved music Mollie had never even introduced to her, and had a strange understanding of how people interacted. She often saw things before adults did. She saw Evie and Killian getting together from the beginning. She recognised Mollie’s relationship with her own mother, Linda, easily, constantly telling her to forgive Grandma and trust that she had the best intentions. Esme was a much better person than she was. And that was her greatest achievement as a mother.

But something didn’t sit right.

Mollie walked straight into the kitchen of the studio and got to work. There was an event she was catering, a small amount of baking for a local couple’s engagement party that weekend. That would be done easily enough. And then onto the prep for tomorrow’s segment on morning TV, thanks to Ilyaria, who lived in Camden Square and worked in television, championing their events and promoting them like no one’s business. Once she’d mentioned her new venture, Mollie Makes, fuelled by passion for healthy eating and a few too many glasses of Prosecco at a launch one night, Ilyaria hadn’t stopped until she had ten kids’ parties and an after-school club interested in what she could offer. She called last week to say they needed someone for their morning news segment. And there Mollie was, with a sudden moment of fame, and she wanted to vomit.

But first, coffee.

Killian wandered in at five past nine, the same as every day, and reached for the coffee pot. It was one of the things she liked about her working day, the fact that Evie’s boyfriend worked in the room in the back of the studio, and was always happy to have a chat and sample some of her first cookies of the day. This was part of the reason she’d been lulled into a false sense of security – Chelsea had found Kit, and Evie had found Killian. There were clearly good men out there. Men who didn’t know when to stop eating her freshly made cookies, and men who wanted to set her up with horrible obnoxious accountants, but good men. There was hope.

‘What’s that look for?’ He poured them each a cup of coffee from the pot, sliding one over to her, ‘Still grouchy about the date?’

‘Evie told you already?’ Mollie huffed. The other downside of her best friend and flatmate having a boyfriend who worked in the building.

Killian shrugged and ran a hand through his dark stubble, crossing his arms, ‘She felt guilty. Like they’d strong-armed you. She feels responsible. But, I was thinking...’

Mollie held up a finger, ‘Killian, I like you. I like that we have coffee every morning and that you’re crazy in love with my best friend. If you are about to suggest a set-up with one of your friends, I will kick your arse from here till Tuesday.’

Killian froze and then nodded, ‘Ah, that scary mama face. No wonder Esme’s an angel child.’

‘Well, that’s more what I’m worried about.’

Killian frowned, and leaned back against the cabinets, tilting his head in question.

‘I think something’s up with Esme. Do you think she seems happy?’

Killian shrugged, ‘She spent all summer at the skate park, playing with the local kids, she’s still her polite, book-obsessed self... sure, I think she’s happy.’

‘But she put her leather jacket away in the cupboard, her backpack hasn’t got any patches any more, and she’s hanging out with a girl who wants to teach her dance routines,’ Mollie frowned, ‘She hates that. It’s like when I gave her a Barbie doll and she turned the hair pink with a highlighter and cut it off.’

Killian shook his head, sipping at his coffee, ‘Molls, she’s gone into Year Six, she’s got one year to either ignore everyone and wait until secondary school, or try to make friends. It’s got to be pretty lonely, being as smart as Ez is. She lives in this awesome world where she has all these people who love her and she lives in an art centre. Her family are constantly doing these fun events, and people like me are being added gradually. She probably hasn’t got the same frame of reference as those other kids. And what you learn to do in that situation is hide the parts that are different, muffle them, just a bit. It’s survival instinct. Esme’s smart, but she’s not changing, she’s just blending in.’

Mollie tugged at her hair and sighed, ‘Yeah, you’re right, I guess. I just... she’s growing up.’

‘You’ve got years of teenage fights and drama ahead, don’t worry about it,’ Killian awkwardly patted her shoulder, ‘Focus on being freaked out about tomorrow’s on-screen debut. Do you know what time they’re coming?’

‘Six-thirty a.m.! I was gonna ask Evie to take Esme to school, if it runs over.’

‘Sure, if not, I’ll take her, I’m finishing a project tonight and then I’m free tomorrow.’

Mollie grinned, ‘I really am glad you stuck around.’

‘Didn’t have much of a choice. That Evie, she kind of gets under your skin.’ Killian drained the coffee, ‘Anyway, I’ve got a day bed to build. And seeing as there’s no cookies or baked goods to keep me from my work...’

He wiggled his eyebrows hopefully and Mollie rolled her eyes, handing him a cookie from the jar, ‘Incorrigible.’

‘That’s what they tell me,’ he laughed as he walked off back to his studio, and Mollie returned to her baking, turning her worrying from Esme’s school life to her own countdown to a national television appearance. She wasn’t sure which one was more upsetting, but one was definitely more immediate. She got out her mixing bowl.

***

‘And then what happened?’ Chelsea placed her hand on her chin, grinning as she sucked on a lollipop. Evie was pretending not to be interested, painting her nails a dark shade of purple, her fluffy socks with the pigs on rather ruining the goth-girl illusion she liked to save for the rest of the school. Ruby was sitting awkwardly, legs in her sleeping bag, tucking her knees up under her chin as she pursed her lips.

‘Chels, you don’t ask a girl for the gory details,’ Ruby raised an eyebrow.

Mollie paused, quite liking the brief moment of being the centre of attention. She paused in brushing out her long blonde hair, and winked at Chelsea, saying nothing. Mollie never got to have any of this, she was the quiet one, the shy one. Boys didn’t talk to her because they thought she was standoffish, or a ‘stuck-up princess’. But Jamie MacAllister didn’t think that.

‘He just walked me to the bus stop after the party,’ Mollie blushed, ‘It wasn’t a big deal.’

Evie snorted, ‘Yeah, it was. You look like you’re about to take flight.’

‘Well, that’s fine for you guys, you’ve all dated people and slept with people and...’

‘Hey Miss Assumptions, who do you think we’ve slept with?’ Chelsea raised an eyebrow.

‘Tommy,’ Mollie pursed her lips and watched as Chelsea’s shoulders lowered and she huffed.

‘Of course, they say anything. Molls, some advice, as nice as they seem, don’t go off alone anywhere with them for longer than ten minutes, because then they can tell all their mates you shagged them. When really, you got a half-hearted kiss, choked on the chewing gum they hadn’t thought to take out, and then let you walk home by yourself. Men are dicks.’

Ruby frowned, wriggling out of her sleeping bag and hopping up next to Mollie on her bed. Linda was out at a party of her own, and the sleepover had been planned weeks in advance. The party at Bridget’s house, then coming back early (because it would clearly be lame) and watching silly movies in their pyjamas. But it hadn’t been lame, someone had scored some beers and WKDs, there were older boys and the music was good. And there had been Jamie, Jamie who she had known since they were kids, seeing him around the playground, and then suddenly he’d transferred to their school this year, looking tanned and smiling with those perfectly white teeth, his floppy brown hair looking just so teen heartthrob.

And he’d seen her. He looked past Chelsea’s confidence, Evie’s thoughtfulness, Ruby’s beauty, and he saw her, standing at the back, as she always did, hands clasped, staring at the walls and wondering how long she had to be here until she could just go home and relax with her friends.

‘It’s Mollie, isn’t it?’ He’d said, grinning as if he was so happy to see her, ‘We went to primary school together, right? You probably don’t remember me.’

But she did, and for once, she was the girl who sat at the bench at the bottom of the garden, nursing a drink and talking to a boy who was interested in everything about her. For once, Mollie was the girl who shone, unfurling into light as someone listened. She felt important, special, cherished. And she had never experienced that feeling since.

***

Mollie was elbow-deep in wholemeal flour when her phone buzzed. A text.

Hi, this is Max, Olivia’s dad. I have your daughter. You can have her back under the following conditions. Haha. Address below.

Mollie blinked. Um, jokes about stealing kids were not a great start when you’d left your kid with a stranger. The phone buzzed again:

Obviously, I haven’t stolen your kid. Sorry. Not smart. Feel free to pick her up at seven. Max.

Mollie snorted to herself, and looked at the clock. Crap. She ran upstairs to get changed into her running gear, as Evie insisted on dragging her out every Thursday, especially tonight when she needed to de-stress before her debut tomorrow morning. Luckily, Olivia and Max only seemed to live a few streets over, and Mollie hurried.

She rang on the doorbell of the extremely impressive townhouse, the bright blue door with the stained glass windows giving her a very good impression of Olivia’s life before the door even opened.

She pulled on the old-fashioned doorbell and counted eight seconds before a man answered the door. His dark hair was slightly curly and he was almost clean shaven, with dark eyes and a warm smile. There were hints of grey in his hair, and the sleeves of his expensive white shirt were rolled up haphazardly. He looked effortlessly rich, and relaxed.

‘You must be Esme’s mum,’ he smiled, standing back from the door, ‘come on in, I’m Max, obviously.’

‘Obviously. Mollie.’ She held out a hand and he looked at her, incredulous, before taking it and shaking smoothly. ‘Hope Esme wasn’t any trouble.’

‘I doubt she’s capable of trouble. All I can tell is they’ve been practising dance routines for hours, and ate dinner before running off again. She’s a very healthy eater, she said that’s your influence.’

‘I’m setting up a healthy eating programme for kids,’ Mollie shrugged, about to explain about the news segment the next day.

Max frowned, ‘And how is it different to anything else that’s already out there? What’s your angle?’

Mollie bit her lip, ‘Um, I guess it’s not, except that I’m adapting dishes to make them healthy, so that kids can still have chocolate brownies, they’re just made with black beans instead.’

‘Ah, okay, so a hippie-dippie “make it with quinoa” approach,’ Max turned his back to her, ‘Liv, Esme’s mum is here.’

‘What is everyone’s problem with quinoa?’ Mollie mumbled to herself, waiting for her daughter to thunder down the stairs and leave this awful place with its cream carpet and the blue Persian cat staring at her from the windowsill.

‘And the problem with quinoa is more about how it’s causing farmers to starve in Bolivia, rather than any issues with taste or texture,’ Max answered smoothly, his lip quirking. Mollie considered the man, who was clearly ten years older than her, and spoke with an authority that suggested he was either a professor or an arsehole.

‘And what do you do?’ she asked in that way people do when they’re looking for a reason to judge you.

‘Finance.’

‘Of course,’ Mollie said simply, then called out, ‘Esme, I’m waiting here sweetheart!’

A small dark-haired head appeared at the top of the bannister, the sort of girl who would have bullied Mollie at school. She had poker straight hair and a perfect headband, wearing a t-shirt that said ‘Glamorous’ across the front. She smiled serenely.

‘Daddy, Esme and I are just tidying up my toys – perhaps Esme’s mummy would like a glass of wine while she’s waiting?’

She disappeared upstairs again to the sound of childish giggles, and Mollie was sure they were suddenly being watched.

Max quirked an eyebrow, ‘The kid’s got a point. Red or white?’

‘Sorry, I’ve arranged to go running with a friend, so I need to get Esme home,’ Mollie said, calling up the stairs, ‘Esme, I’m running with Evie this evening, please get your things together now.’

‘Oh good, you’re actually working out, I thought you might just be one of those mums who wears yoga pants everywhere, even though it’s clear they never actually work out.’

Oh god, thought Mollie, so my business idea’s unoriginal and I look like I don’t work out. Is there one man who doesn’t want to stamp all over me this week?

‘Yes, I actually run.’

The silence stretched out between them as Esme came down the stairs grumbling, letting her backpack fall from each step with a thump.

‘Pick up your bag Ez, and say thank you to Olivia’s father.’

Esme glared at her, ‘I was going to say thank you anyway. Now it looks like I wasn’t going to, and I’m rude. Thanks!’

Max intervened, ‘I would never think you were rude Esme, thanks so much for joining us today, it was a pleasure to have you. Come around again any time you like.’

Esme turned to her mother, nose held in the air, as if to say ‘see?’ but turned back to Max with a huge smile, ‘Thank you for having me. Dinner was lovely.’

Max nodded and Olivia waved from the stairs.

‘Lovely to meet you Mollie. Rain check on that glass of wine,’ Max nodded, that assurance the rich have evident on his face.

‘Definitely,’ Mollie smiled as the door closed behind them, ‘on the tenth of never!’

They walked silently for a few moments, Esme walking faster than necessary before Mollie stopped her.

‘Hey, lady, what’s with the attitude?’

Esme whirled round, ‘Why do you have to ruin everything?!’

‘I’m sorry your play date had to end early, you know I’ve got a very important morning tomorrow, I thought you were happy for me!’

‘Not about that!’ Esme shook her head, ‘Why did you have to turn up wearing that? And you’ve got flour on your nose!’

Mollie paused, ‘So I embarrassed you in front of your new friend and her dad. Well I’m sorry about that.’

Esme shot her a fierce look, like she was being dim on purpose, ‘You were supposed to have some wine with Olivia’s dad. And you were supposed to turn up looking all pretty like you always do when you pick me up. And then maybe you and Olivia’s dad would go on a date.’ She crossed her arms and huffed, ‘But you ruined it.’

Mollie smiled at the little girl with glitter on her face, her light eyes darkening as she glared at her mother, arms crossed, pout at the ready.

‘Baby, that’s very sweet of you, to want to set me up...’ Mollie crouched down and swept some hair behind her daughter’s ear, ‘… but Olivia’s mum just left, do you think maybe he might need time to be sad about that?’

‘Olivia said it happened ages ago,’ Esme shrugged, ‘and this way we’ll stay good friends and he seems nice, her dad. I’m usually right about these things.’

‘You were right about Evie and Killian,’ Mollie acknowledged, ‘I’ll give you that one, kid, but not everything works out like that.’

‘But I’m right about Tyler and Celia too,’ Esme grinned wickedly, ‘I started a bet with Killian about whether they’ll kiss before Chelsea’s wedding.’

‘Tyler is, whilst being very nice, a little bit gangster, and Kit’s sister was head girl at her school. They’re friends, that’s all. And it’s not nice to bet on people,’ Mollie sighed deeply, worrying that her daughter might be right about Chelsea’s brother. He was hanging around a lot more these days, and Celia always seemed to mysteriously turn up to events at the gallery when he was around.

‘Look, Mum,’ Esme shook her head seriously, ‘you’re not very good at this stuff, you need to trust me with it. I can find you someone really nice. Olivia said it’s really nice having a dad, someone to take you places and protect you and tell you not to go out wearing that... she said I should have one, and she doesn’t mind sharing hers. That’s nice.’

Mollie took a deep breath and tried to count to five, ‘Yes, but are you happy to share me? So I’d have to do things with Olivia, just her and me.’

‘No you wouldn’t – she already has a mum!’ Esme’s frown was deep set, and she suddenly didn’t like the idea any more. Mollie took her hand and led her over to the bench by the bus stop, sitting down side-by-side as the light started to soften into darkness.

‘Sweets, why were you really playing with Olivia today? I know you don’t like dance routines and girly stuff. What’s going on?’

Esme pressed her lips together and pulled on the sleeves of her grey hoodie, ‘She’s the only other kid who has one parent.’

‘You’re kidding,’ Mollie frowned, ‘Seriously? How is that possible?’

‘Or the only other one who admits it. Some of the other kids were asking where my dad was because they were talking about inviting their dads to some school thing. And when I said I didn’t have one, they asked about my stepdad. And when I said I didn’t have one of those they said... they said I must be horrible and that’s why I don’t have a daddy.’

Mollie fought the urge to bundle her daughter up into her arms and start ranting about what horrible tossers all those kids were, but she held back, watching as her daughter took deep breaths and set her jaw, not allowing herself to cry.

‘Oh baby, why didn’t you tell me?’ Mollie stroked Esme’s cheek, and watched as her daughter’s eyes met hers.

‘I didn’t see the point,’ Esme shrugged, ‘We must both be pretty horrible if he left both of us, but I know that’s not true because you’re lovely.’

At that point Mollie did pull her in close, squeezing her and letting her own tears fall, ‘You are not horrible. Your dad didn’t leave because of you, or me. We were just kids and he wasn’t ready to be a dad. You know how I’ve always told you girls are more grown-up than boys? Well I got pregnant with you, and I grew up so I could be a mum. But he wasn’t ready to grow up, so he didn’t become a dad. That’s all it was, baby girl. We have the loveliest life, don’t we? With Chelsea, and Evie and now Evelyn and Killian and Kit. All these people who love you and think you’re amazing. So what’s one man who couldn’t grow up?’

Esme nodded, sighing deeply and squeezing her mum’s hand, and saying, ‘Okay, but if you have to pick me up from Olivia’s again, will you say yes to the glass of wine?’

‘Maybe. Depends if you’re hanging out with Olivia because you actually like her.’

Esme shrugged as they started walking along, ‘She’s nice enough, she doesn’t read though. Which is weird.’

‘Very weird.’

They walked along in silence, Mollie stopping herself from reaching out and grabbing her daughter’s hand. She wanted to wrap her in cotton wool, keep her safe, she began to wonder why she hadn’t put herself out there earlier, whether she’d been selfish in thinking she’d been enough for her daughter. She should have started dating earlier, maybe she’d have found a suitable father figure by now.

‘Mum, don’t you miss him?’ Esme asked suddenly, looking up at her, ‘My dad, I mean?’

‘No baby, I don’t miss him. I don’t ever really think about him.’

Mollie felt her stomach clench as they carried on walking. It was the first lie she’d ever told her daughter.