‘Will she come here, her mother?’
‘Tina,’ Cillian offered. ‘No, I don’t think so, and to be honest, if she does show up, it won’t be good.’ He got his mobile phone out of his pocket, and she noticed that it had a Hello Kitty sticker on the back of the plain black case. Cute. ‘Can I have your number?’
Wait, what? ‘Er … my number?’
‘Yeah, your mobile? I only have the park number. I can send you her photo, in case she shows up.’
‘Oh, of course!’ Of course, why else would he want it? You are his boss, he has a daughter, and he thinks you’re a madwoman who is scared of tiny humans. Not exactly first date heaven, is it? She pushed down the feelings of disappointment that rose up unannounced. She reeled the number off, and Cillian tapped a few keys, looking at her expectantly.
‘Er, you not got your phone? I just sent you a text.’ Fudge nuggets. He’s expecting me to look at it now.
‘Err, no. Sorry, I’ll … just go get it.’ She dashed into the kitchen, doing her best ‘breezy, not in a panic at all’ slow walk that looked as though she was power walking through the chalet. In the kitchen, she rifled through some drawers and found her smartphone. Just looking at it gave her a ton of anxiety. Turning it on, she prayed that the god of depleted batteries had decided to strike, but no luck. The thing sprang into life, the jaunty little bip bip bip bip mocking her as the home screen came up. The wallpaper was her and her mother, sitting on the beach together that summer. It was one of her favourite photos, and the original was still sitting in a frame somewhere in the boxes she hadn’t been able to bear opening quite yet. Let alone had the time.
Heading back into the room, her notifications started going off and she switched it to silent quickly. Scanning through the text messages to the most recent, she saw a number she didn’t recognise and clicked on it, hoping to God that it was Cillian’s. She couldn’t deal with anything else right now, especially in front of company. She could feel her palms sweating, and she left a little watermark when her finger touched the screen. She rubbed her hand down her jeans and opened up the text.
‘She’s pretty,’ April said. Oh, no. Open mouth, insert foot. Again. ‘Sorry, but she is. I haven’t seen her here, but I’ll keep a lookout of course.’
‘Thanks.’ He stood up, draining the rest of his coffee cup. ‘Shall we get on? I have to get done on time to pick Orla up.’
They were just headed back to the games room, when he looked across at her again. ‘You know, turning your phone off is all well and good, but you will have to deal with it eventually, right?’
He had a look of concern about him that seemed to soften his normally rugged and hard-set features. They walked into the games room, letting the door shut behind them.
‘That obvious, eh?’ Buoyed by the coffee and conversation, she didn’t feel the usual pang of panic when she thought of back home. She lifted her screen to show him piles on piles of notifications. She hadn’t even checked her email. Once the sale was done and she was on her way out of Yorkshire, she’d just dropped out of life.
‘That’s a lot. Won’t people be worried?’
She winced. ‘Probably, a little. I told those I needed to that I was going, but I did leave a little earlier than planned.’ Truth be told, it was a fair bit earlier than planned, and not quite as dignified either, but that was a story with a two-drink minimum required. ‘You think I’m a wimp now, right?’
Cillian was standing right in front of her. He looked her straight in the eye, pressing his lips together for a second before he spoke.
‘I think that anybody who has the guts to go out there and change their life doesn’t know the meaning of the word wimp.’ He looked around at the space and nodded slowly. ‘This place will be grand again, you’ll see.’ He picked up the broom and passed her the dustpan. ‘Let’s get this place back on the map, eh? The rest of it we can sort out later.’
Looking at her phone again, with its messy long list of things to click on, to drag her into the real world, she nodded. Turning it off and shoving it onto the table, they touched broom to dustpan with a determined knock of plastic and wood, and got to work.
***
‘She’s been a little unsettled today, Mr O’Leary. She didn’t eat lunch and went to sit on her own a lot. I’m afraid she’s only had a little drink too.’
Mrs Toon was sitting on a tiny red chair, one of six around a tiny round table in a corner of the nursery. The rest of the children had all left, only Orla and a couple of stragglers were left. Orla was sitting on her own in the reading corner, her thumb poking out of her mouth and her index finger rubbing along the length of her nose, like a tiny little pink hook. She was engrossed in the book that was spread across her lap, one finger following the words as she read.
Cillian’s heart squeezed when he looked at her, and he felt the prick of tears threatening to escape from his normally manly tear ducts. He knew he had to keep it together for Orla, but he hated that his own parents had taught him to be quite so tough. He decided then and there that once they got through all this, he wouldn’t be that father. He would teach Orla to love, and be open and caring,
