Page 83 of Things We Never Said
‘But they sound joyful, I think. Joyful Jim. Joyful Jake. I mean, Jack. Sorry. Anyway, enough of baby names. How are you, Dad?’
Sean pulls cups from the cupboard and drops teabags into them. ‘I’m – oh, can you drink normal tea? You can, can’t you?’ April nods, so he continues. ‘I’m fine. Busy. But that’s good.’
‘You know, you don’t talk about it much anymore,’ April says. ‘The whole Mum thing, I mean.’
‘No?’
‘No. And I’ve been struggling to know whether I should mention it or if I shouldn’t mention it. I’m just, you know, putting it out there. So you can tell me. I hate worrying about stuff like that.’
Sean nods as he pours the water into the cups. ‘I think I’m better not talking about it at the moment. If that’s OK with you?’
He thinks he has managed to sound relaxed, but that’s perhaps not the case because April replies, ‘That’s fine. But you sound angry. It’s not with me, is it?’
‘Angry?’ Sean says with surprise.
‘Yes. Angry.’
‘Oh ...’ Sean shrugs. ‘It’s one of those phases, isn’t it? Denial, numbness, whatever, and anger.’ He sighs. ‘I’m probably not doing them in the right order, though. I never was one for following instructions.’
‘OK,’ April says. ‘If that’s all it is.’
‘But, really, I’m fine. And I’m better not talking about it right now. Really, I am. But I appreciate you asking.’
‘Good. Well, that’s sorted, then.’
A silence falls over them, a silence during which the only sound in the kitchen is the gentle throb of the refrigerator and the noise of the teaspoon against the side of the cup as Sean squashes the teabag with it.
‘Right. When are we seeing this amazing flat of yours?’ April eventually asks.
‘Three o’clock,’ Sean replies, turning to look at his daughter and forcing a smile. ‘After I’ve bought you lunch down on the river.’
‘So this is 4A,’ Bonnie, the estate agent, announces breathlessly. She is visibly overweight, but has had to brave the staircase as the lift is in the process of being serviced.
‘Oh, it’s gorgeous!’ April says, stepping inside. ‘There’s so much light. And the sun’s not even out.’
Sean follows his daughter into the living area.
‘Are those ...? Those are the originals, aren’t they?’ April asks, pointing towards the kitchen units.
‘They are. And look at this.’ Sean crosses to the worktop, fiddles with a catch and pulls out a long swivelling table. ‘Gosh, it’s as-new,’ he says. ‘It looks like they never used it.’
‘Maybe no one told them it was there.’
‘Now,Ididn’t know that was there,’ Bonnie comments. ‘Have you been here before, then?’
‘Not this unit,’ Sean says. ‘But they’re all the same. At least they were, fifteen years ago.’
‘How nice,’ Bonnie says, as if she hasn’t really been listening at all. ‘Now, it’s only a one-bedroom,’ she continues as she starts to waddle towards the rear of the unit, ‘but you could perhaps put a partition in here if you wanted to make a box room for baby.’
Sean, who is suddenly feeling uncomfortable, opens his mouth to explain that April is his daughter and that she won’t be living here.
But he is beaten to it by April, who says, ‘Baby? What baby’s that then?’
Bonnie visibly pales. ‘Oh ... I’m ... um ...’ She swallows. ‘I’m sorry ... I just assumed.’
April runs one hand over her bump and shakes her head. ‘Doughnuts,’ she says. ‘I can’t get enough of them.’
‘Right,’ Bonnie says. ‘Well, I ... I certainly couldn’t fault you on that. Doughnuts are famously difficult to resist.’
