Page 97 of One More Day
‘She is like a little sponge,’ she continues, ignoring what I just said. ‘She absorbs so much even though she’s still so young.’
‘Which is exactly why she doesn’t need these timetabled, stifled calls where we don’t even get to say a proper goodbye because the conversation hasn’t run its course,’ I tell her, standing up for both myself and my daughter in a way I should have done a long time ago. ‘This was your decision, Clodagh, yet it seems that me and Rebecca are paying the price when it comes to our relationship. It’s not on. I will call her, and she can call me whenever it organically feels right from now on. No more watching the clock. No more scheduling what day it can happen. It’s not a lot to ask, but hell, I’m not asking any more. I’m telling you. You told me you were taking Rebecca to Spain to live, now I’m tellingyouI can call her when I want and the same goes for our daughter. Shecan call her daddy whenever she needs to, not when you tell her she can.’
I see Rose make her way back from the shop, but I needn’t worry about her reaction to my spontaneity as Clodagh hangs up before we come to any arrangement that isn’t on her terms. As bloody usual.
I come off the phone drained from my head to my toes, but as much as it took from me, I feel empowered like I wasn’t before.
I feel like I’ve found the clarity I came here to find, the strength I needed to voice my own wishes about this new arrangement which has knocked the wind from my sails, and the realisation that I don’t need to be told what to do by Clodagh. I won’t wait another three months to see my child. I won’t wait for that perfectly timed phone call every Friday.
‘I’m so proud of you for taking the stance you needed to,’ Rose tells me as we arrive back at Seaview Cottage. ‘Are you going to try to squeeze in a visit to Rebecca before the holidays are up, then?’
‘Absolutely,’ I reply, still shaking, but a rush of determination floods through my veins. ‘There’s no way I’m waiting until Easter.’
‘You’ve survived this snow, so you deserve to put some sunshine on your bucket list for sure,’ she says.
‘Thanks, Rose. Sorry if I’m upset. I suppose it was inevitable as Christmas comes closer.’
As I drive up the lane to our secluded retreat, I hope this feeling settles now that I’ve said my piece, but I’d doubt it ends there.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rose
Charlie is quiet.
I cook dinner, I make hot chocolate, I pour some wine, I stoke up the fire but no matter what I do or say, it’s like he’s slipping away from me. He feels guilty that he’s not spending Christmas with his sister, and devastated that he is away from his daughter.
There’s no dancing in the kitchen this evening. There are no Christmas carols and no snuggling up with a movie. Charlie is reading his book by the fire. I am scrolling through my phone looking at friends’ smiling faces, sharing happy family photos in which their children look fit to burst with excitement for Christmas Eve tomorrow.
In a way it’s a comfortable silence. But then I look at the frown on his face as he turns the pages and I know that nothing he is reading is being absorbed.
He is heartbroken.
‘I know this isn’t going to blow your mind or rock your world, but I’ve a very small gift for you.’
I don’t want to disturb or push him, but I feel it might be the right time to try and cheer him up, if even just a little.
‘Ah, Rose. You’re very kind.’
He puts his book down, takes his glasses off and gives me one of his million-dollar smiles.
‘It’s not much,’ I add quickly.
I wait for him to open the wrapping. As he peels back the silver paper ever so slowly, my heart flutters and my eyes well up when I realise that after Christmas I don’t know when I’m ever going to see him again. But for now, I choose to live in the moment. As a smile creeps over his gorgeous face, I know that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.
‘You never cease to amaze me, Rose,’ he says, holding out the handmade wooden picture frame which is decorated with forget-me-nots. ‘How did you get those two rascals to sit for long enough to take this picture?’
‘It was tricky, but dog treats work wonders. I had it printed yesterday when Stacy and I were out on our travels.’
‘Rose, it’s fantastic,’ he says, shaking his head in wonder. ‘I’ll never forget the memories we made here. It’s perfect.’
We both stare at the photo of Max and George on the doorstep of Seaview Cottage, the smoke billowing from the chimney, the dancing orange flames from the open fire through the front window and a white blanket of snow thick on the ground. Max has his head tilted, so full of mischief and rascality, while George has his tongue lolling out of his mouth. But best of all, up above is the most beautiful night-time Donegal sky, peppered with the stars we looked up to together.
‘OK, your turn,’ he says.
‘What?’
‘Great minds think alike,’ says Charlie, and he reaches down underneath the sofa to where he pulls out a small, neatly wrapped gift with a rose-shaped gift tag. ‘I got this for you. When I saw it, I thought of you straight away. I really hope you like it.’
