Page 71 of Meet me at the Seaside Cottages

‘Thalia was never keen,’ says Lowell out loud.

Verity reads his lips, and clamps her mouth shout. ‘Mummy won’t like it,’ she signs, her hands nervous.

‘That’s okay,’ says Janey, glancing at Lowell.

‘Of course that’s fine,’ he signs. And goes off and gets some bottled water.

‘Are you looking forward to seeing the puppies?’ signs Janey after he’s gone.

She nods. Then leans towards Janey, looking over her shoulder to make sure Lowell is queuing at the van a good distance away.

‘Daddy is not allowed to open my brain.’

Fortunately Janey has long experience of children, and often children who are confused or distressed by the process of living in a noisy world with limited or zero access to what all thenoise is about. Calmness is a skill she managed to conquer, she often thought glumly, in every part of her universe except for when dealing with her own beloved daughter. Other people’s children, of course, were always easier.

‘Of course he isn’t,’ she signs back. ‘He’s not allowed to if you don’t want him to.’

‘I don’t.’

‘I get that completely.’

Verity kicks her heels loudly against the harbour wall as if venting frustration.

‘It’s okay if you can’t hear,’ she signs. ‘You’ll get no arguments from me.’

‘Medical companies are just trying to make money.’

‘Then I would like a nicer car,’ signs Janey, and the girl looks at her, not cross, just curious. ‘Sorry, bad joke.’ Then she points at Lowell. ‘He just wants to see you.’

‘He’s old. He’s not like other daddies.’

‘That’s not his fault.’

‘Mummy says he had bad ideas about things.’

‘I think,’ signs Janey carefully, ‘both your mummy and your daddy tried their best. I don’t know your mummy but I know your daddy loves you very much. Sometimes people have different ideas about what the best thing is.’

‘I miss Mummy,’ says Verity, and she looks younger than ten suddenly.

Janey nods. ‘I bet.’

‘Daddy doesn’t want me here.’

‘He does. He really does.’

Lowell comes back over, the worried expression still on his face. ‘Hey, sweetie,’ he signs, handing over the water.

‘I don’t want single-use plastic,’ Verity spells out, quite laboriously. Lowell squints to follow it.

‘Ah,’ he says out loud. Then, ‘Well.’

Janey decisively crumples up her empty chip wrapper and pops everyone’s in the bin.

‘I think,’ she signs, ‘it is PUPPY TIME.’

The sign for puppy is literally a dog but small, and she deliberately over-pantomimes the smallness of it, hunching her shoulders over and even sticking out her tongue, until Lowell laughs, and even Verity smiles reluctantly, and they get up and head for the car.

‘Thank you,’ mutters Lowell as they get in. ‘Thank you. She’s still not talking to me . . . but she is talking.’

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