Page 115 of The Last Train Home
I held her yesterday, I want to remind Abbie, but I can’t actually articulate that sentence. ‘Yep.’Why is my voice doing this?
I pick the baby up, support her head, hold her in my arms, stare down into her little face. My guts rip in half again. ‘Hi there,’ I say to the sleeping baby, my eyes locked on her face.
‘Dad?’ Teddy prompts. He’s already got his arms out, as if he’s holding her.
‘Yep,’ I say and move towards Teddy, place the baby into his little arms and then keep my hands firmly around the newborn.
‘Hello, baby,’ Teddy says.
I cast a glance at Abbie as Teddy witters away to the baby about his day. He’s almost whispering to her, so I can barely hear what he’s saying.
Abbie smiles as she watches my son create a bond with her daughter. The baby slowly opens her eyes, locks on to Teddy and stares at him silently as he chats away at her. I regret not being able to give Teddy a sibling. There’s notmuch I can do about that now. He’ll have to suffer being an only child, as I was.
‘Sorry,’ I mouth at Abbie.
‘It’s fine,’ she mouths back at me.
‘Andy’s on a book deadline, so he couldn’t take Teddy. He’s put Oliver on a late pick-up and it’s full, so I couldn’t put Teddy there. I left it a bit late to think about it.’
‘It’s fine,’ Abbie reiterates warmly. ‘It’s nice to see you both. I’ve missed you.’
‘Have you?’
She nods. I’m not sure what to make of that.
‘Teddy and I went shopping. We bought some things for the baby.’
‘Can I show her, Dad?’ Teddy tries to wriggle off the chair and I lift the baby up to my chest, standing up, as he goes to the crib and extracts the giraffe and elephant.
‘Look, baby,’ he says and waves them around at her.
‘Hold them still,’ I say, ‘then she can see them.’
‘They’re lovely,’ Abbie says. ‘They’re her very first toys. Thank you, Teddy. And thank you for buying all those other bits. You really didn’t have to, but I’m so glad you did. I’ve got barely anything.’
‘Why isn’t she taking them?’ Teddy asks.
‘She can’t reach out for things yet,’ Abbie says apologetically. ‘She can only cry and suck down milk at the moment.’
‘That’s a bit boring,’ Teddy decides.
Abbie laughs. ‘Yes, it is a bit, actually.’
‘She’ll give you a run for your money soon enough,’ I say. ‘I remember when Teddy first started walking. We were on holiday when he began, and I thought,Oh no, this is it. Freedom has ended. And, sure enough, I spent the rest of theholiday running around with Teddy as he decided he needed to run and fall over absolutely everywhere. Now you hate walking. Always want to be carried.’
Teddy nods wisely. ‘Daddy gives the best piggybacks, so I don’t need to walk.’
‘You’re a victim of your own success,’ Abbie tells me.
I smile at her and she smiles at me, and Teddy holds the giraffe up in the baby’s eyeline and this moment – here, like this – is so perfect I never want it to end.
‘I’m going home tomorrow,’ Abbie says, heralding the end of perfection. In less than twenty-four hours’ time we’ll each go back to our lives, and that will be it.
‘That’s great,’ I lie.
‘We’regoing home tomorrow,’ Abbie corrects herself. ‘Not just me. I forget we’re a duo now. A team.’
‘You and baby-no-name?’ I tease.
