JOEL
A car horn beeping outside pulled me from my sleep. I tapped my phone – 10.13a.m. – and pushed the duvet aside. Time to get up and do some batch-cooking before I went into work for the first of three night shifts.
I usually went to bed late before starting on nights so that I’d rise later, but I’d felt shattered last night after a busy weekend and had gone to bed earlier than intended. I’d only just drifted off when Chez and Lorna arrived back from the pub with a takeaway. If them crashing through the door hadn’t already woken me up, Chez shouting upstairs, ‘Do you want any Indian?’ certainly would have done. I’d shouted back, ‘No, I’m in bed!’ thinking they’d take that as a sign to hush things a little but, no, the TV had gone on at full volume. I’ve no idea what they were watching but it involved lots of car chases and shooting and I heard it all and felt every single vibration. I’d shoved back the duvet several times, planning to go downstairs and tell them to stop being so inconsiderate, but I was so riled up that I knew it wouldn’t come out as a polite request and we’d end up arguing again, so I shoved in a pair of ear plugs instead.
It wasn’t Chez’s fault I was in a mood. Imogen’s revelation that Greg wanted her to call him Daddy had preyed on my mind across the weekend so I’d asked Tilly if I could have a quick word when I dropped Imogen home. My request to talk outside clearly irritated her as she muttered several expletives under her breath as she stuffed her arms into her coat sleeves and stepped outside in her slippers, slamming the door behind her.
‘What?’ she demanded as she yanked up the zip. I hated it when she was hostile like that and had to bite back the impulse to snap at her in response.
‘Imogen said something yesterday that I don’t think she was meant to say and?—’
‘For Pete’s sake. She told you about Scotland?’
My stomach lurched. ‘No. What about Scotland?’
Tilly’s cheeks flushed. ‘That’s probably where we’ll go camping over Easter.’
She’d mentioned something about going away a while back but nothing had been confirmed, so I assumed they’d changed their minds.
‘Fair enough. It wasn’t that. It’s about Greg…’
‘What about him?’ she asked, accompanied by a dirty glare.
‘Erm, it’s a bit awkward because I obviously wasn’t there so I’m only going from what Imogen told me.’
Tilly planted her hands on her hips. ‘Spit it out!’
‘She said that Greg has asked her to call him Daddy.’
‘He has not!’
She quite literally spat the words and I had to resist the urge to wipe my cheek.
‘As I say, I’m only going from what Imogen said.’
‘You planted the idea.’
‘Oh, come on, Tilly! Why would I do that?’
‘Because you don’t like Greg. Because you’re jealous of what we have and you want to cause trouble.’
I had no idea where that had come from – completely paranoid and unreasonable.
‘I amnotjealous and what I think of Greg has nothing to do with this. Our daughter confided in me about something that upset her and I thought you should know so you could nip it in the bud.’
‘What if she wants to call Greg Daddy? Her brothers and sister do.’
I ignored the ridiculous comment about her siblings. Gregwastheir dad so of course they’d call him that!
‘Believe me, she doesn’t and before you accuse me of influencing her, that came direct from her. If she genuinely wanted to call Greg Daddy, I wouldn’t like it but I’d respect her decision and I’d understand because I do get that he has a role in her life. But that’snotwhat’s happening here and I’d appreciate your support because you promised me this wouldn’t happen.’ My tone was sounding more forceful than I intended so I softened it as I added, ‘If you don’t want to speak to him about it, I’m happy to have that conversation.’
She lowered her eyes and kicked at a small white feather on the path. ‘No, it’s fine. I’ll speak to him. I meant what I said back then.’
The fight was gone from her voice, so I decided to push it a little further. ‘If he’s doing it because he thinks he’s more of a dad to her than I am, you know there’s a solution to that.’
She sighed. ‘It’s too disruptive with your shifts. Why can’t you understand that?’
‘You’re hurting our daughter by keeping her away from me. Why can’tyouunderstand that?’ I kept my voice on the level, and she raised her eyes to meet mine. I’d hoped to see sadness or guilt but she still looked angry which was a joke. What did she have to be annoyed about?Iwas the one who had every right to be fuming about this.