Page 74 of Duplicity

‘Just the one,’ I whisper, and he squeezes me tighter.

‘Good.’ There’s a pause, then he clears his throat. ‘My dick only has one PT too, and she’s bloody gorgeous.’

CHAPTER 35

Marlowe

I'm determined that this trip will be cause for celebration for Tabs, something for her to embrace rather than fear. She's known for years that a valve replacement operation is in her future, and we talk about it as one of those great, delineating events in life, as if a new pulmonary valve is as momentous as the coming of Christ. Which, of course, it will be for her and for those of us whose happiness depends solely on the health of this little girl.

After the operation, you'll be able to run as far and as fast as you can!

After the operation, you can learn how to ice-skate!

And do parkour!

And trampoline!(God, how badly she wants to go trampolining. I'll spend every hour of my weekends in those hellish, neon-lit trampoline parks that I've heard other parents from school complain about if I have to.)

So, yes, this procedure will mark a seismic shift in my daughter's life. It will, quite literally, give her a new lease of life, as if, by moving heaven and earth and paying hundreds of thousands of pounds, we’ve purchased a lease agreement thatpromises athleticism and freedom and boundless energy, for the next few years at least.

That’s worth celebrating. So I take her into the centre of town to get some bits and pieces for the hospital: new PJs, some reading books and sticker books. She skips along beside me as I hold her hand and navigate the crowds of weekend shoppers.

‘Take it easy, sweetie,’ I say as gently as I can. Every time I have to remind my eight-year-old daughter to tamp down her natural little-girl energy andtake it easy, a piece of me dies.

‘Sorry, Mummy,’ she says reflexively, and I squeeze her hand and smile down at her.

‘You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry I have to say these things to you. But in a few weeks you’ll be running and skipping all you like, won’t you?’

Her smile is huge. ‘Yeah. And dancing.’

‘And dancing. Alotof dancing. I can’t wait to see you dance everywhere we go.’

‘Will I be able to run through the airport?’

‘On the way home, maybe. It depends on how you’re feeling, honey. You may still be really tired from the operation. But you won’t be out of breath. Isn’t that amazing?’

‘Will the airplane be like the one inHome Alone?’

‘Um…’ I cast my mind back to the movie. I’m pretty sure the McCallister adults travelled at the front of the plane. ‘It won’t be as fancy as that on the way out, but on the way back it’ll be far fancier. We’ll have seats that turn into actual beds. How cool is that?’

She beams at me and instantly starts to skip again. ‘So cool! Will we get a pillow?’

I squeeze her hand gently to remind her totake it easy.I do not need an ambulance trip to the nearest A&E to become part of our day out. ‘I think so. I’ve never flown in the fancy part before.’ I’ve never flown long haul at all, in fact. ‘Now, where to first?’

‘Waterstones?’ she suggests.

‘Waterstones it is.’

Like me, Tabs loves reading. It’s lucky, given that the range of physical activities available to her is pretty tiny. She’s smart for her age and devours books quickly. Thank heaven for our local library. We don’t buy many books, except on birthdays and Christmas—my wallet can’t keep up with her reading pace. So the smoke comes off our library card. But I’m determined that she’ll have some beautiful new books to enjoy on the flight and at the hospital.

Waterstones has always smelt like home to me: that scent of printed paper that’s as dependable, as comforting, as a swaddle. I was a child of varied interests—I sang, and I played a lot of tennis, and I read as many books as I could get my hands on. Tabs doesn’t seem as interested in singing, unless it’s Taylor Swift or Gracie Abrams, and tennis has been out until now, but books are her jam a million times over.

‘Oh wow,’ she says reverently, glossing her little hand over the intricate gold foiling on some special editions of Penguin Classics. ‘So pretty.’

‘We can get one or two,’ I tell her. They really are gorgeous. ‘You might likeThe Secret Garden.There’s a little boy in it who everyone thinks is ill, but he gets super strong by being out in nature, and he’s running around in the secret garden by the end of the book.’

She throws me ayou poor, deluded womanlook. ‘I don’t think nature will fix me,’ she says solemnly, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I do neither, in fact.

‘No, but you’ll be able to enjoy it a lot more when thedoctorsfix you up.’

---