Page 104 of Special Delivery
‘Ideally yes.’
‘So, what? You’re going to raise this kid by yourself?’
‘That’s exactly what I have been doing, Patrick, so yes, I think that’s a safe assumption.’
‘And what happens when she goes to school and realises all the other kids have dads and she wants to find hers?’
‘Then I will tell her that her father and I have not spoken since that time he rocked up to my house and called me a whingeing bitch.’
‘You know that’s not what I meant.’
‘I actually don’t care what you meant, Patrick. I just want you to leave.’
Patrick slammed his hand on the kitchen bench. ‘Jesus, Poppy! You’re being an idiot!’
‘Get out, Patrick.’
‘Fine!’ He balled his hands into fists and walked to the door. As he turned the handle, he spun back to face her. ‘You’ll regret this Poppy. Your daughter will hate you for doing this.’
‘Her name is Maeve, Patrick. And somehow I don’t think she will.’
‘Don’t come crying to me when everything turns to shit and you need help.’
‘Trust me, I won’t.’
He yanked the door open and Poppy watched him stomp back to his Tesla. At her front gate he turned to look at her again, his features contorted in an ugly rage. ‘And another thing,’ he spat. ‘Blueberry Gatorade tastes like shit.’
Poppy smiled with grim satisfaction. ‘I know, Patrick.’
She closed the door.
In the lounge room, Maeve was still sitting on her play mat, passing the rattle between her chubby hands. At the sight of her mother, Maeve’s face broke into a wide smile and Poppy’s heart lifted. She would never know for sure if she’d made the right decision, but at this moment, her gut told her she had. Patrick didn’t belong here. He was too impetuous, too self-centred, too frenetic and too vain. He needed everything to be orbiting him, as though he was the star and everyone else a member of the supporting cast.
Poppy’s life now was not uncomplicated, but it was slower and more predictable in a way that nourished her. And that was what she and Maeve needed at the moment: predictability.
Poppy sat down opposite her daughter. Afternoons like this, sitting on a play mat watching her daughter’s eyes sparkle as she tinkered with her dollar-shop rattle, were what she wanted. She picked up the rattle and shook it at Maeve. Her daughter reached her arms towards it happily. With a tumbling motion, she fell forward and raised herself on her hands and knees. With a giggle, she lurched herself forward and crawled straight into Poppy’s lap, seizing the rattle between her chubby fingers.
Poppy gasped. ‘Maevey, you crawled!’ She picked up her daughter and laughed into her neck, smothering her with kisses. ‘My clever, clever girl! I am so proud of you, Maevey!’
She scooped Maeve up and ran outside with the timid hope of the morning blossoming again in her chest. James would be so happy to hear the news. ‘James!’ she called across the hedge. ‘James! You’ll never guess what just happened!’
Mary’s front door opened and James came outside quickly. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m fine! Everything’s good!’ Poppy rounded the fence and walked up Mary’s front path. He was so close now she could almost reach out and touch him. They were together again—geographically, if nothing else. She could apologise properly and things could go back to how they were before. She beamed at him, radiant with hope.
James turned to look at the closed door, his forehead creased. ‘Mum’s inside packing up. She’s pretty distraught.’
‘Oh …’ Poppy faltered. Fuck.
James gazed back at her, expressionless, and a tiny bead of fear crept into Poppy’s stomach. She wanted to reach for him but it was as though he was standing purposely just out of her grasp.
‘I wanted to tell you …’ It seemed so stupid now. Why would he care about this when his grandma had just died? What sociopath would think a crawling baby trumped that? Poppy looked at the ground. ‘Nothing, it’s just, um … Maeve crawled for the first time.’
The corners of James’s mouth tilted ever so slightly upwards for a second and then straightened. ‘That’s great, Poppy.’ He sounded tired and, worse than that, he sounded sad.
‘I’m sorry, James,’ Poppy said abruptly. She needed to get this out before he could stop her or get away. ‘I’m so sorry for that night after the races. I shouldn’t have let Henry comehome with me but I promise it wasn’t what you think, and nothing happened. And I would never want it to, because’—she swallowed—‘I only want to be with you.’
There, she’d said it. He couldn’t unhear it now. She may as well have offered herself up naked on a sushi platter.
