‘Still working all hours?’ Sarah asked.
Kiko nodded. ‘But how can I complain when he’s saving the world?’ She grimaced at me. ‘He manages a charity that rescues people from trafficking. Young women, kids, people working as slaves. It’s horrific. I understand why he finds it hard to stop. And you can’t just clock off in the middle of saving someone. Our life is very dull and safe in comparison. I’m very dull in comparison. And I feel shallow and selfish complaining about any of it. So I don’t.’
Sarah huffed. ‘He chose to get married and have kids. He’s got a responsibility to you, too.’
Kiko looked at us nervously, her face pinched with tension. ‘I’m starting to wonder if it would be best if we weren’t together. The kids would probably see him more if we had custody visits like Edison and Sean. And I wouldn’t spend my life feeling a disappointing second best.’
‘Do you still love each other?’ I asked, after a moment’s silence.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t think we even know each other any more. I want to stay married. I never, ever thought I’d consider breaking up my family. And my parents would be devastated – they still consider divorce to be shameful, and that a man must work hard to provide for his family. But I can’t keep going by myself. I can’t keep having my heart stomped on every single day.’ She gulped back a sob, and Sarah and I both put an arm around her.
‘Come next Friday.’ Sarah said.
Kiko nodded, a tiny smile flickering at the corner of her mouth. ‘I’ll ask Adam if he will watch the kids.’
‘No, you won’t!’ Sarah snapped. ‘You’re not asking, you’re telling him. Phone right now.’
Kiko paled. ‘No, his mum’s babysitting. Adam’s working late tonight. I can’t call unless it’s an emergency.’
‘His marriageisan emergency. Call him.’
She called, eyes widening in surprise when he answered. In a hesitant voice, she told him she was going out the following Friday, too. After some humming and haa-ing, Adam agreed to be home. Kiko wiped the sweat off her forehead and let out a shaky laugh. ‘Right. I’ll see you then.’
‘Too right,’ Sarah said, slamming a cupboard door shut. ‘We’ve got a lot of work to do.’
* * *
I muddled through the weekend, working at the café and filling more bags with rubbish. I had a vague plan about borrowing someone’s laptop (and Internet connection) to get some of the less-abysmal Hoard up for sale online, to supplement the tiny pile of wages I’d brought home the previous Thursday. In the meantime, I carried on sorting and cleaning, constantly on the lookout for further titbits about my family.
It was soon Monday morning. The kids and I slowly grew more used to each other through the week, spending most afternoons in a blanket fort we built (and continually rebuilt, extended, redesigned and smashed to bits), while I revealed my appalling lack of knowledge about military matters. On Wednesday Maddie had a meltdown about a specimen being knocked over during the battle of Bannockburn, but we soothed her grief with a burial ceremony for the mould, ‘a worthy comrade, who fell valiantly upon the battlefield, and whose sacrifice shall not be forgotten’.
Thursday dinner-time, when nobody’d even asked me to stay, simply laying an extra place at the table as if I’d always been there, Dawson announced his pleasure that tomorrow was Friday, and, ‘Shewon’t be here, messing everything up and making us late.’
‘Dawson!’ Will put down his fork. ‘That was unacceptable. Jenny is doing a great job for her second week.’
No, Jenny isn’t.
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘Of course, you want your mum there, instead of me.’
‘No. I just don’t want you there. I don’t care who else does it.’
‘That’s enough,’ Will said. ‘You’d better think very carefully about what to say to Jenny now.’
‘Sorry,’ Dawson muttered. ‘I’m not hungry. Can I go?’ He dumped his plate, still half-full, on the counter-top above the dishwasher and stomped upstairs.
The rest of the kids, plates emptied, soon followed him.
‘I am so sorry about Dawson,’ Ellen said, frowning. ‘I think something’s going on, but I can’t get him to talk about it. Please don’t take it personally.’
I took a large gulp of water, and carefully set the glass down on my coaster. ‘The thing is, he’s right.’ I forced myself to look up at my employers. ‘We’ve been late to school every day this week. A couple of days by a lot. Today, I was late picking up from drama club because Billy hid after I told him off for chopping up a library book, and it took twenty minutes before Jonno – not me – found him. Things feel chaotic and messy. Theyarechaotic and messy. I’m making a lot of mistakes, and I’m finding coping with all five of them really challenging. I think maybe you need a professional to do this job.’
Ellen grinned. ‘Was he in the wood-box?’
I nodded.
‘He always goes there. Next time you’ll find him straight away. I probably should have put it on the list.’
‘But I’m saying I don’t think thereshouldbe a next time. Your house is being destroyed one broken picture frame and smashed toy at a time. I’m worried I’m not good for your kids.’
