Page 87 of The Truth About You and Me
‘That’s right. You just can’t touch people. Jackson sent us all a voice note with strict instructions not to hug you. Shame. You look huggable.’
‘I do?’
‘Yeah. I want to give you a squeeze.’ I cast a glance in Jack’s direction, eyebrows raised, his expression reading:I warned you they can be a lot.‘Jackson, do you think you can stop looking at her like a puppy in need of a belly rub for five seconds and give me a hand? George will be here soon, with thenews.’
‘Anyone know what the news is?’ Jack asks, making his way to the kitchen island. Charl passes him a bag of limes.
‘Oh, darling,’ Jack’s mum, Gillian, begins. ‘It could be anything. Last time he had news, it was that he was thinking of getting a puppy.’
Tom leans forward but not close enough to touch me. ‘Gilly hasbaked.’ He grimaces. ‘Best stay away from the shortbread.’
‘I heard that!’ She bats his arm away.
‘Uncle Jaaaaack!!’ There is a stampede of feet as two waist-high girls in a variety of feather boas and hats run into the room wrapping arms around his waist. He discards the bag of limes. The youngest is wearing just a feather boa and a luminous lace tutu, wild candy-floss-thin blonde hair, which is standing up like she’s electrically charged. Jack immediately swings them beneath his arms.
‘Take a seat, Maggie.’ Gilly gestures to a seat at the end of the table.
‘It’s—’ God I have no idea how to navigate this conversation. Words are forming in my head, like a script for an actress but without a director to steer her in the right direction. ‘Lovely to meet you all.’ I smile over at her, trying not to cringe at the plummy accent I seem to have adopted.
‘We’ve heard alotabout you over the past few weeks.’ She smiles but it’s guarded. Not unfriendly but more… appraising.
‘All good I hope,’ I ask not quite meeting her eyes.
‘I hear you’ve been helping Jackson sort out the shop?’
‘I… yes.’
My attention goes back to Jack who is dragging the children around pretending to look for them, one hanging onto his leg, the other with her arm around his neck.
‘I’m on your back, Uncle Jack!’
He’s a natural with them. He casts a quick glance back at me. I give him a little nod in reassurance, and he returns his attention back to the kids hanging off him.
He’s good with children. Of course he is.
I don’t know why this hits me so hard. I suppose it’s because having kids has always been such a foreign concept to me. Luke and I had never discussed it; it was too early in our relationship. I guess deep down I’m afraid. Afraid of something happening to me and the kid being left in the care system. If Hellie hadn’t come along, who knows how long I would have been bouncing around foster care and children’s homes. And then there is the issue of being able to constantly hear their thoughts. I mean, there are times I’m sure that would be helpful, but what about while I’m pregnant? What would I hear then? Seeing Jack like this though, with one girl hanging off his leg, the other on his back…
Something feels like it breaks inside my chest.
Tom pulls the newspaper towards him. His glasses are perched on his nose.
‘Coffee?’ Gillian asks.
‘Yes, please, thank you.’ She reaches for the coffee pot.
Pleaseandthank you?
‘Sugar, Maggie?’ she asks.
Tom reads out a clue from the crossword, ‘Six down, four letters…’
‘Um, yes… please.’ My head is spinning as I try to untangle the riot of activity around me. Jack’s face is lit up as he chases the girls around the large kitchen. ‘Two, please.’
‘Control your kids!’ Jack shouts at his sister.
‘Nope, you started it,’ she responds, opening plastic cartons of food.
‘Milk?’ Gilly asks, eyes back on the task.
