And he wanted to talk to Lucy, desperately. He wanted to chat to her about the house, about the future, but in-between Maisie’s tantrums, his emergency call outs, and her evenings sorting lesson plans they hadn’t been able to grab more than a few minutes alone.
He squeezed his eyes together. He was totally knackered. He’d always loved being a parent, but being a single one was a different kettle of fish altogether. Especially when he was trying to run a veterinary surgery almost single-handedly, and his clients seemed to think he was available 24/7. Thank goodness he had the very capable Sally to help out, or he’d be really stuck.
But, keeping his professional life in order was nothing compared to trying to reassure his daughter that she was the most loved, the most wanted child in the whole wide world. That she meant everything to him. That although she felt like her little world had been tipped upside down, it hadn’t. That everything would be okay. He’d sort it.
He felt totally inadequate though. It had taken him quite some time to cheer her up when he’d finally finished work for the day, and when he’d tucked her into bed she’d been hanging on to a toy as though it was her only friend. When he’d gone up to check on her before leaving, the toy had been replaced with the Border terrier Roo.
‘Should she have the dog in bed?’ Sally who had been called in as emergency babysitter raised an eyebrow when she saw the sleepy child, and Charlie shrugged.
‘Maybe not.’ He sighed. ‘I’m a crap parent, but I know now why so many dads just say yes to everything.’ It had been so much easier when it had been the two of them, him and Josie, and to be honest Maisie had seemed so unflappable. She’d always been a happy child who had been easy to distract from her tantrums and was rarely demanding. Even the terrible twos hadn’t seemed to have a huge impact.
Now she was frightened; clingy in a way he’d not noticed before, and tearful. Maisie had always been the child with a smile on her face, and it worried him that she seemed to be getting more sensitive as each day passed. He had to work out what to do. He’d always thought he was doing okay as a parent, but now he wasn’t sure. Now he was scared he was failing her.
And he had to talk to Lucy about this bloody email.
‘I won’t be long.’
Sally nodded at his slightly curt tone, and her voice was soft. ‘Take your time, Charlie.’
Lucy didn’t answer when he knocked, and when he jiggled the door handle it was locked. He felt like sitting down on the step, closing his eyes and blocking out the world and his problems. Instead, with a weary sigh he headed back down the garden path.
She couldn’t have gone far, and if he didn’t find her, a brisk walk round the village would do him good and maybe clear his head.
The cobbled square was deserted when he strolled across, the shops shut up for the night. Only the sound of his own footsteps broke the stillness of the evening, and as he walked some of the peace leaked into his soul.
By the time he reached the village green he was feeling more positive. He wasn’t a bad dad, he wasn’t doing everything wrong. They just needed a bit more structure in their lives, he needed to reorganise – instead of trying to shoe-horn his daughter into the chaotic and over-busy life he had been leading.
There was a crowd on the benches outside the Taverner’s Arms, making the most of the warm September evening, and he soon spotted Lucy sandwiched between Jill and Timothy.
She waved as he walked across the grass.
‘We’re celebrating. Come and join us.’
‘Sit here young man, my supper calls me and it’s been a long week.’ Timothy stood up, and put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. ‘Goodnight all, thank you as always for all your hard work. See you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Monday morning!’
‘Good Ofsted report then?’ Timothy’s upbeat attitude was infectious, and Charlie felt his spirits lift another notch.
‘Great.’ Lucy had a big grin plastered to her face. ‘Well we won’t get it in writing for a couple of weeks, but everything was pretty positive.’
‘I’ll get a drink, another?’
By the time he got back with his pint, Jill had gone.
‘Something I said?’
Lucy smiled, and put her hand on his knee. ‘She said you looked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.’ Her smile slipped. ‘What’s the matter, Charlie? Nothing’s wrong with Maisie, is it?’
‘Maisie’s fine, I left her with Sal.’ He shrugged. ‘Well she was fine when I left.’ He needed to talk to her about the email, his biggest problem, but then again it was all part and parcel of the same issue. If Maisie wasn’t happy with him, if it got to the stage where she didn’t want to spend time with him, then he really was in a mess.
‘Oh?’
‘It’s not working out.’ He knotted his fingers in his hair in frustration.
‘What do you mean?’ Lucy looked alarmed. ‘You can’t …’
‘She’s not eating properly, she didn’t want her tea, only picks at stuff.’
Lucy shifted closer, so that her shoulder rested against his, and it felt like an anchor. Something stable. ‘She eats her lunch at school so she’ll be fine. But, maybe saying no to what you give her is her way of showing you she’s not happy, it’s the only thing she can say no to. The only thing she can control.’
‘She says she doesn’t like it here, she wants her old friends back, she wants her bedroom.’ At the moment the list seemed endless. She wanted everything to be different.
‘Well the bedroom bit is tricky, but why don’t you invite one of her friends here for lunch, a picnic, just a play in the garden?’
‘The surgery doesn’t have a garden,’ he gazed across the green, not really seeing it, ‘and the flat is cramped, that’s why I’ve let her go and visit friends. It’s easier. It’s not helping her make a home here though if I keep letting her go back there, is it?’
‘Nope. She seems more unsettled than unhappy though, she gets on with the kids in her class and once we’re past the initial half hour she’s fine.’
‘She’s not fine at home. She doesn’t cry, she just looks at me, sad as though I’ve let her down.’
‘You’ve not let her down, it’s just different. The summer was a big adventure, something new, but in her head she probably thought that everything would go back to how it was at the end of the holidays.’
‘She was always so happy. That’s the worst bit, she was always smiling, giggly, and now she always looks wary, unsure. Unhappy.’
‘It’s not just the move, Charlie. She’s getting older too, she’s not that chubby toddler any longer. School is more demanding, she’s starting to question things.’
‘You’re telling me. She asked why Roo couldn’t sleep in her room and I couldn’t think of an answer, especially when she said she was lonely.’
Lucy grinned. ‘You let him?’
‘I said he could, in his basket though.’
‘And?’
‘He was on her bed when I checked on her. They were curled up together, the dog was fast asleep, and she was drowsy but clinging on.’
‘She just needs to feel secure, Charlie.’
‘And only the dog does that for her.’ He gave a wry smile.
‘You know that’s not true. But Roo’s a warm, living, breathing friend