Page 36 of Merrily Ever After
“The nougat’s from Tuscany.”
I blink. “And are you bringing us over to eat it there?”
“For an extra ten euro, you can also upgrade to a—”
“The crap goody bag is fine. Thank you.” I tap my card and glance at the boy whom I once caught trying to eat shampoo. As soon as I turn the pram toward the doors, the protest begins.
“I want to see Santa,” he insists, trying to climb out of his seat.
I should have just made a run for it while I could.
“It’s bad luck to see Santa before Christmas,” I tell him, only to get an immediate glare from the nearby parents. “If your name is Tiernan,” I add, but they don’t buy it, and neither does he as he tries again to stand up. This time I round the pram, offering him the bag.
“Do you want to try some Tuscan nougat?” I ask, unable to keep the desperation from my voice as more and more people look our way.
His eyes fill with tears as his face scrunches up.
I’m at a loss. I shouldn’t be. I should be used to this. My sister cries at everything, all the time, but it was acceptable for me to ignore her.
“We’ll see Santa at Christmas,” I promise him, but it’s not enough as he starts to cry. Of course, that starts another baby off, and there’s tongue clucking and head shaking all around as I decide to do the easiest thing and just get out of there.
“He’s a little big for a pram, don’t you think?” an elderly woman mutters as I hurriedly pack the goody bag away. I can feel the sweat dripping down my back and my arm feels like it’s on fire and for the first time in a long time I feel close to tears myself.
“Excuse me?” Our elf is back, but any hope of her offering some Christmas cheer is quickly dashed as she gestures to the doors. “You’re blocking the entrance.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You need to—”
“I’m going,” I tell her, my voice more clipped than it usually is. “Happy Christmas,” I add loudly to those still side-eyeing us. My eyes burn as Tiernan tugs at his straps and I push him through the doors and it’s raining.
It’s raining again.
I pull the rain cover over Tiernan but, unfortunately, don’t have anyone to do the same thing for me as I head out into the night. I barely take a few steps before I second-guess my plan.
Despite the weather, the streets are packed. More worrying than that, the traffic is stationary. I can already see a huddle of people waiting at the stop up ahead, and if Tiernan doesn’t get norovirus at nursery, then he’ll definitely get it while trapped on a humid, moist bus for an hour. Not to mention the fact that I’m done with everyone glaring at me today. I can only imagine what would happen if I tried to push pram privileges on a night like tonight.
I slow down, earning an annoyed huff from someone on my heel, but I ignore them as I seek shelter under a shop awning.
By now, Tiernan’s protests are over, and all I hear is a sniffle, and yeah, buddy. Hard same.
I crouch down next to him and push his hair back from his face. “I know,” I tell him. “I’m sorry. You hungry?”
He nods, tearful and tired and no doubt very, very cranky.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Me too.”
And I have a feeling nougat just won’t cut it.
Chapter Five
The fast-food place he likes is weirdly empty.
It means we have no problem getting a booth. I get Tiernan a kid’s meal, but he seems more interested in playing with the ketchup than eating his chicken nuggets. I let him. Glad just to be able to sit down.
We get a few looks, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Me, drenched with my arm in a sling. A giant teddy bear in the chair beside us.
“You’re not deprived, are you?” I ask as he plants one whole hand in a ketchup blob. “You’d tell me if you were deprived.”
