The only thing she knew at this moment in time was that a delivery was coming, and she would sign for it. Right here. That was enough for now. It was all she could bear to focus on. She thought of her smartphone, sitting in tiny bits in among the banana peel and doggy poo bags in that bin, and felt a little better. Off the radar again somewhat. She felt horrified about her own post. She would never have posted it had she known. Would people think it was in response to Duncan’s news? Probably. She might as well have thrown herself a divorce party online and had done with it. How could he do that? Why didn’t he block her himself?
She knew why of course. Because he was Duncan. Big old Dunc with his army of yes men and simpering women. Now he could prove he could fill a pram, it was happy days for Mr Diamond Shoes. The truth was, he was that thick and shallow-minded that he wouldn’t have even thought about it. #finally said it all. He might as well have loaded that hashtag into a gun and taken aim. Typical ‘have to have it all right now’ Duncan. Screw anyone the posts upset. The opposite of Cillian, who grafted every day for his daughter and thought nothing of himself. He took far more pleasure in the simple things. . His patience around the park, around Orla, it was calming just to watch. A contrast to his Irish temper, and his stubborn, arsey ways. Orla had him in the palm of her hand, and he loved every minute. Cillian loved being a dad, but to Duncan, it was another achievement to hang from his belt. Father, check. It’s not like he’d even be there much to raise the poor mite. She felt the sting of tears again, and she punched down hard into the tree bark.
‘April? Are you okay?’
Martha was standing there, like some kind of Royal-Jelly-scented ninja. April could see the box from Martha’s coffee table tight in her hands. She was in a pair of loose white cotton trousers, a paint-splattered red blouse, and a pair of sneakers, also spotted at the toes with different drips and flashes of colour.
‘Not even a little bit,’ April replied truthfully. She looked again at the box in Martha’s hands, and then in the woman’s eyes. ‘Are you?’
Martha shook her head. ‘Not great, no. I might punch a bit of bark too, if it helps.’ Both women smiled feebly at each other, equally depressed but thankful for the other’s concern. ‘I saw Cillian took off in a hurry. Orla okay?’
She looked up the long path, as though his van was still there, making its obvious getaway.
‘Orla’s fine. He’s mad with me, I think. He … I … It’s complicated.’
Martha went and sat on one of the tree stumps that sat off to the side of the bark, placing the box on another nearby and patting the lid.
‘Most things are, in this life,’ she said softly. ‘Did you go, to the gallery?’
‘We did, a man called Luke gave me a pack.’ She went to reach for her handbag, but then she realised she’d run off to work with nothing but the keys in her hand. ‘Sorry, it’s in the chalet. They are definitely looking for new talent; apparently they bought out all the art that was there before. A hot local artist, apparently.’ Something occurred to her then. ‘Was that your work? Is that why you’re upset?’
Martha shook her head. ‘No, the old buyers sold all that.’ She looked a little confused herself now. ‘I never thought about it that way. I just assumed that they had paid the whole amount in one because they were closing. Maybe I should give them a call.’ She looked at the box, an odd expression crossing her features. ‘I’ve been trying to paint new pieces, but I haven’t been able to yet. Nothing good anyway. I’m hoping that today’s the day.’ She ran her tired eyes over April, frown lines pushing her glasses halfway down her nose. ‘Why are you sitting here?’
‘Delivery,’ she replied dully, picking up a handful of bark chips and letting them fall through her fingers. ‘My ex-husband is getting married to the woman he left me for, and having a baby. I just found out. About the baby, I mean. He already dropped the other bombshell in person before I left.’
Martha’s lips pursed together tightly, and April’s eyes fell onto the box once more.
‘I am sorry. It’s the cruellest thing sometimes, to be a woman in this world. I never had children myself. My Charlie couldn’t, and I was fine with that in the end. Couldn’t be helped much in those days, and I had him, and my art, and the love of my life.’
April wrapped her brains around Martha’s words, blinking rapidly as she began to understand, and Martha laughed.
‘You heard right. It sounds so simple, when you say it out loud. To someone alive, I mean.’
April’s brows knitted together again, and Martha patted the top of the box. ‘You know, I think you might like to have a look at this. I’ll leave it with you, but please know, it’s precious.’ Her face changed back to its severe default mode and April found herself agreeing rather solemnly.
‘I will, I promise.’
Martha relaxed a little, stretching her legs out in front of her and rolling her feet around in alternate circles.
‘I trust you.’ After a moment, she spoke again. ‘He does too, believe it or not. Where did he run off to?’
‘Solicitor’s,’ she replied before she could censor her answer. Martha didn’t look surprised; in fact, she looked
