Page 35 of One More Day
I hope I haven’t offended him. I’m just poking a little. I’m still giddy from earlier, but hopefully the coffee and scone will bring me back to earth again gently.
You don’t miss much, he writes back straight away.Have a good day!
And then another one.
Exclamation marks are used frequently too, which might be equally irritating, so apologies in advance!!!
So, he does have a sense of humour after all. I could grow to like Charlie and his comforting ways, but I know it isn’t part of the deal. We need to keep our distance.
Sean arrives with George’s water bowl and sets it carefully on the floor, spilling a little as he bends down.
‘Whoops-a-daisy. Someone was thirsty,’ he says, looking very pleased with himself as George laps it up. ‘Nice to see you smiling, anyhow.’
I raise my eyebrows.
‘Who, me or George?’
‘You, silly,’ he replies. ‘Not being nosey, love, but you were grinning away at your phone just now, which is lovely to see.’
‘I was?’
‘Yes, and it really suits you to smile like that,’ he tells me. ‘I’ll go fetch your coffee. Won’t be long.’
Chapter Ten
Charlie
I press Clodagh’s number on my phone and rub my hands together as I wait for my daughter to answer my call. I’ve been counting down the days, hours and minutes until this moment and now that it’s here, I feel like I might burst with anticipation.
It’s pitch dark outside. The snow is falling heavily and I’m sitting by the fire in a quiet pub, the Lighthouse Tavern, with a bowl of mussels and a pint of Guinness in front of me for Dutch courage.
It’s Friday at last.
To be more precise, it’s 6 p.m. on Friday at last, which means it’s time for my weekly FaceTime call with my most beautiful girl.
My Rebecca.
The screen lights up with a photo of Rebecca and her mum, both wearing sunglasses and pink floppy hats, smiling in the Tenerife sunshine, a world away from me.
Let’s keep it to one weekly chat until we get her settled in, Clodagh told me.It’s not good to upset her in the run-up toChristmas by seeing you too often. Give her a chance to acclimatise then we’ll come to another arrangement.
I breathe slowly. A little faster than usual, but then there’s nothing usual about this whole sorry set-up. Since Clodagh and her new husband, who she seemed to only have met five minutes ago, decided to whisk my seven-year-old daughter off to a new life in a foreign country, my whole world has been turned on its axis.
Rebecca doesn’t keep me waiting. She picks up on the second ring. Oh God, she’s been waiting for this as much as I have.
‘DADDY!’
My nose twitches. My eyes sting. She’s already lightly tanned and her blue eyes sparkle as she speaks, her little lisp fading as her new front teeth push through. Her olive skin, which she gets from my side of the family, has taken nicely to her new life in the Mediterranean sun, even though it’s winter. And as much as I try to deny it, she already looks so different to the little girl I said goodbye to six weeks ago when she boarded a plane for a new life far away from home.
‘Look at you!’ I whisper, as my vision goes cloudy.
I blink. I don’t cry. I will never cry in front of my daughter.
‘Hello, Daddy!’
‘Oh Rebecca, baby. It’s so good to see your pretty face again at last. How are you? Are you—’
I want to ask if she’s looking forward to Santa but the words stick in my throat.
