Page 46 of From Now On

In the cold light of day she questions whether she can really do that. What if she is laughed at or rejected or worse?

But… what if she isn’t?

Before she can decide either way the doorbell rings.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Charlie

Accidents happen. It’s what you do afterwards that counts.

This.

Thisis what Charlie is doing afterwards. Ringing Aunt Violet’s doorbell. Intent on telling her that he has made a huge mistake. That he wants to take Nina and Duke home where they belong, with him.

He hasn’t been here for years. There had been a distance between her and Mum once Bo moved in, a gap that Charlie didn’t understand and didn’t try to bridge.

He has spent his life not asking enough questions. Not trying to understand.

Today, now, he is making a change.

‘Charlie.’ If Violet is surprised to see him she doesn’t show it.

She invites him in and they walk towards the kitchen. The kids are sitting at the table eating breakfast. His heart lifts when he sees them. How could he have walked away from them? They are a family, bound and tethered by their own grief.

‘Charlie!’ Duke jumps down from his chair and runs straight at him, wrapping his arms around his waist. Charlie hugs him tightly.

Nina doesn’t move, appraising him over her suspended spoon of cornflakes, which drips milk back into her bowl.

‘Not in New York then?’ He can’t tell whether she is pleased or not.

‘No.’

‘Go and get ready for school,’ Violet says.

‘But I haven’t finished—’

‘Now,’ Violet cuts Duke off.

‘You complain I don’t eat breakfast and now I am—’

‘You too, Nina.’

‘Whatever.’ Nina makes a painstakingly slow exit from the room.

Violet closes the door after her and gestures for Charlie to take a seat. She doesn’t offer him a drink. His mouth is dry; his tongue feels too big for his mouth.

Perhaps he should have waited until he had rehearsed what he wants to say, how he wants to say it. Until the children were at school at the very least.

‘I’m here about Nina and Duke. I’ve come to get them. I think they should live with me. In the house.’

‘No.’

‘But I think—’

‘Youthink?’

She crosses her arms. The hope he had had that she would be pleased to relinquish the responsibility trickles away from him. Sweat prickles in his armpits. He knows the importance of language, decisiveness, he negotiates for a living for God’s sake, but there is more at stake than a publishing deal and he already feels it slipping away from him.

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