Page 111 of Duplicity

This is more like a full-on Broadway show. I could hear it the whole way down the corridor.

He jumps to his feet at the sight of me and scurries over, holding his silver tiara so it doesn’t slip off his head. It’s a twin of the one Tabby’s wearing as she stands at the end of her bed in her hospital gown, beaming and swaying and holding hands with Elsa, and he looks so adorable, so fuckingfatherlyin it, that a visceral pain shoots through my heart.

‘I know, I know,’ he says, catching up with me as I stand in the entrance, having pushed through a gaggle of rapt nurses to enter the room. ‘It’s a lot.’

‘Yes, it is,’ I say quietly, giving him a meaningful look. It’s a lot on every level. It’s financially indulgent and very overstimulating and emotionally confusing and just—everything.

‘You can bollock me later,’ he says. ‘Just, please, come and hang out. Enjoy seeing your little girl singing her heart out.’ He flinches at his turn of phrase. ‘I didn’t mean that. But she’s wearing her oximeter, and the nurses are keeping a close eye, and she’s in seventh heaven.’ He clasps my hands in his and squeezes. ‘Just come and enjoy it, love. It’s really special. We’ve even got a princess crown for you.’

Apparently, Brendan, Athena and the hotel concierge have been cooking this up with the Heart Heroes nurses for days. The nurses signed off on this particular visit on the understanding that it would only happen if Tabs got the all-clear from her walking test and if the troupe visited the rest of the children’s wards, too. It seems they’ve done some charity work here before and are always a huge hit.

That’s no surprise. They do an incredible job. When Tabby gets tired, which she inevitably does, I sit on the bed with her and hold her in my arms as we watch Cinderella and Ariel wrangle Brendan into a conga.

I wish I could tell you he took some persuading.

And so I sit there cuddling Tabs and allowing myself to do what I’ve promised Brendan—to enjoy it, to soak it up, to marvel that we’ve come so far only six days post-op, and to also face some very confronting facts: namely, that I’m enjoying having him around far too much.

It’s as though that last week at work was a horrible nightmare, and this week in the hospital has been a weirdly lovely bubble. It should have been brutal, but it hasn’t been. It’s helping that I’m sleeping in five-star hotel bedding and eating delicious meals and enjoying enough poolside downtime to make parts of it feel like an actual holiday, but I’d be lying to myself if I said it was just that.

Because it’s not.

It’s having Brendan around. It’s him making everything seem fun and easy and achievable rather than terrifying and difficult and exhausting. It’s having another adult to lean on, to pick up the slack, to provide me with physical and emotional support.

And all of that is confusing and unwelcome and scary, because Brendan doesn’t actually have a place in my life aside from professionally, and even that is a bit of a shit show. So when he spoils me, when he dazzles Tabs with these crazy, grandiose schemes and, worst of all, when he’s justthere, being funny and steadfast in all the quiet, normal moments, I can’t for the life of me shake that feeling that I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Because the absolute worst thing about this week is that we’ve felt like a team, and that is very, very dangerous. A teammate, a partner, is something I’ve never had the luxury of. I’m the parent sitting white-faced and alone in A&E at 3 am, and I’d do well not to get used to anything else.

Brendan stays all afternoon, eats dinner with us in our room, and then pulls me out into the main corridor while a happy, exhausted Tabs is having some downtime on her iPad. I collapse onto a hard plastic bench, and he produces two bottles of water.

‘Date night. Cheers.’

I smile tiredly and clink his bottle against mine.

‘Are you cross with me?’ he asks, looking adorably boyish and annoyingly hot.

‘About Disney-gate, or in general?’

‘Disney-gate, for now.’ He cracks open his water and takes a long swig of it, and I marvel like a filthy pervert at the manly way his throat muscles contract as he swallows.

I tear my gaze away before he can see me. ‘No. I’m not angry at all. I’m grateful, and I’m so thrilled for her to have had such a lovely treat. I’d hate you to think otherwise. But?—’

I screw the lid off my water and fiddle with it. He waits with uncharacteristic patience. I blow out a huge breath.

‘I just don’t want her getting used to that kind of thing, because that’s not who we are—that’s not our kind of lifestyle. I don’t want her being sad when everything goes back to normal.’

When he speaks, his words are halting. Considered. ‘That was a treat. A one-off. And yeah, hopefully it was more fun than most of the stuff in her daily life. But if you think about it, this week—and well before that—has been much worse than what the vast majority of kids have to deal with in their daily lives. What Tabby’s been through has been fucking hideous, love, so she deserves to have something far better than most kids get to enjoy, too.’

‘I get that, but?—’

He cuts me off, gently but firmly. ‘It’s not obvious that you do. If all the bad shit hasn’t ruined her, then a couple of treats won’t spoil her, either. It’s all about redressing the balance, love, giving her something to make it all worthwhile.

‘If a good day for her is not being in pain or not turning blue, then fucking hell. That’s no childhood. But wouldn’t it be nice if she knew that after the lows come some crazy highs, too? She’s not my kid, but wouldn’t it be lovely if she built her capacity for those things, too? Because her capacity to handle the bad stuff is far too good, in my view.’

I stare at him, wondering if Yoda has somehow embodied my hot boss. ‘Athena said something similar a while back, when sheplayed Father Christmas with this crazy tent,’ I muse, recalling how hard her words hit me at the time. ‘She said it was about building an abundance mindset for Tabs, so she knew to believe the magical stuff was possible.’

He smiles at me, and to my surprise, reaches up to stroke my face with his fingertips. ‘Yeah. Well, she’s a lot more articulate than me. But that’s exactly right. Surely a bit of magic can only be a good thing for a little rockstar like Tabs.’

I stare at him, drinking him in, every bone in my still-weary body aching to slump against him. To give up the fight and collapse.

---