‘What colour was it before?’
What? Oh, her hair! She reached up and touched the place where her hair parted.
‘I think it was white-blonde.’
‘No, before you started dying it strange—I mean, different—colours.’
She made a dismissive gesture, turning the corners of her mouth down. ‘Oh, you know. Nothing. Boring. Why do you want to know?’
Will stared over the top of her head. She was pretty sure he didn’t know why he’d asked. He had been a bit talkative for a man who was the dictionary definition of ‘the strong and silent type’.
The thump of little feet on the stairs behind her made her turn round. Hattie flew down the narrow cottage stairs and launched herself at Will, encircling his legs with her arms.
‘Bye, Will.’
He looked down at the child superglued to his legs and smiled. It was as if something about him had melted and softened. Just for a split-second.
‘Bye, Hattie.’
Something like electricity arced between the man and the little girl. Josie could swear she almost saw it. Not a bolt of lightning—more a slow, steady hum—but a strange kind of connection all the same.
All her life she’d wanted that to happen. That bolt from the blue, that sudden realisation that somebody ‘got’ her. She was still waiting.
It was unfair, that was what it was. And it was juvenile of her to be jealous of his instant rapport with Hattie.
She adored her daughter—really adored her—but if she hadn’t seen her arrive into the world and watched the wristband be attached then and there, she’d have thought her little girl had been swapped for another baby. Like those old wives’ tales about fairies leaving one of their own in place of a human child.
Mother and daughter were so totally different. And it wasn’t as if Hattie was anything like her father, either. She had none of his restless energy or extrovert tendencies.
Will attempted to untangle himself from Hattie.
‘Come on, Hattie. Let him go.’
Hattie obligingly dropped her arms and stepped away. See? There was another difference. If it were Josie, and she’d forged that kind of bond with someone at Hattie’s age, she’d have had to be prised away, yelling and screaming.
Will faced her again. The smile was gone. He looked about as comfortable as he had sitting in that old armchair.
‘Well, Josie. Thanks for your input.’
‘No problem.’
He looked down the path again. No doubt he was desperate to escape. Then she remembered something. ‘Oh, wait a minute. I’ve got something for you.’
She ran back into the living room and fished something out of a large bag beside the armchair. When she got back to the front door, she handed it to Will. ‘I crocheted this for you. Call it a peace offering.’
He turned it over once or twice. ‘What is it?’
Josie tried very hard not to be offended. ‘It’s a hat. March can still be quite cold in the country.’ What else did he think it was? A tea cosy?
‘Oh. Thank you. It’s very…colourful.’
He folded it in half and put it in his pocket.
‘Well, goodbye, then.’ And stupidly, as he turned to walk down the path, she added, ‘I’ll catch you next weekend, if I have any more ideas—if you’re down, that is.’
He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. ‘The decorators have finished in the private apartments now. I’ve decided to stay around and keep an eye on things myself for a bit.’
He didn’t say anything else, just raised a hand in a half-wave and carried on down the path. Josie responded with an anaemic ‘Bye’ that lacked enough volume for him to hear, and closed the door.
‘Do I have to go to bed right this very second, Mummy?’
Hattie was peeping at her from behind the living-room door. It really was bedtime in five minutes.
‘I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you go and set it up and we’ll have one last game of snakes and ladders?’
Hattie didn’t whoop or jump up and down, but her smile widened as far as it would go. ‘OK.’
As they sat playing for the next twenty minutes Josie stopped herself from shouting ‘yippee!’ every time she went up a ladder and blowing a raspberry every time she landed on a snake head, and something very strange happened.
Normally, Hattie would frown with concentration and get very upset if she lost, but this time she just seemed to relish the quiet. Every now and then her daughter would look at her and smile and Josie’s heart would tumble in love with her strange little changeling of a daughter all over again.
Later, after Hattie had got into bed, Josie read her a story and tucked her in. Just as she finished reading Cinderella Hattie let out a cry.
‘What is it, sweetheart?’
Her eyes filled up with tears. ‘I’ve lost Poppy!’
She smoothed the hair away from Hattie’s forehead and placed a kiss in the centre of her brow. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll find her. She’s got to be here somewhere.’
Hattie never went far without her favourite doll. Thankfully, it was never too hard to find Poppy. She wore neon-pink fairy clothes and had brightly striped legs. The little fairy’s outrageous attire had saved her from being lost on more than one occasion.
Josie checked under the duvet and down the side of the bed.
‘Why don’t you say your prayers while I go and look downstairs?’ she told Hattie. ‘I’m sure I saw her sitting near the table when you played snakes and ladders with Will.’
Hattie nodded, her bottom lip quivering.
Josie clumped down the stairs, landing on both feet as she jumped off the second-to-last step. It didn’t take long to locate Poppy, who was lodged between the side of the dining table and the wall. She took the stairs more slowly going back up, deciding to wait until Hattie had finished her prayers before she delivered the good news.
She stood on the landing, smiling gently as she listened to Hattie ask blessings for each and every member of her class at school.
‘God bless Granny and Grandpa,’ Hattie continued in a high-pitched whisper. ‘God bless my new friend Will. God bless Mummy. God bless…’
Josie held her breath.
‘God bless my daddy. I know I’m not supposed to ask for things for myself, God, but could you remind him to come and see me soon? I was really little—only four and a quarter—when he came last time and he promised he’d take me to the zoo.’
Josie ran to the bathroom and furiously dabbed her eyes with a couple of sheets of toilet paper she ripped from the roll. Then she tried to blow her nose without making any noise.
She didn’t want to do anything to destroy Hattie’s innocent trust in the fact that her father would make good on his promise. The truth was, the last time she’d heard any news about Miles he’d been driving racing cars in Monte Carlo and having as wild a time as they’d had together when they’d been eighteen. She hoped, for her daughter’s sake, that one day he’d grow up and realise what he was missing.
But until then, perhaps it was better that his visits were infrequent. He certainly wouldn’t be a positive influence in Hattie’s life. At the moment, Hattie saw him with the rose-coloured vision of childhood. And in some strange way, that helped. For now, in his absence, he was the fantasy father—funny, charming, devoted. If Miles really became a permanent