‘Dad forgot to get her a straw, so she started crying, and that got on my nerves, so I sort of accidentally hit her over the head with mine, and, well, you know.’
I did know.
‘What did Dad do?’ I scooched up beside him on the bed.
‘He made me sit on a different chair and then just kept telling her it was okay. But it didn’t work.’
‘Did he get cross?’ Brayden didn’t have much of a temper, but I couldn’t imagine him keeping calm in that situation.
‘No.’ Finn’s narrow shoulders shrugged underneath his football-covered duvet. ‘But his eyes went big and his hand was shaking. He kept looking about as if someone else would come and help while Isla got louder and louder, screaming for you.’
‘Oh, honey. That must have been stressful.’
His solemn nod made my throat tighten. There was no point berating him for hitting Isla with a paper straw. The look on his face showed how bad he felt. I hated the thought of Isla being in so much distress when I wasn’t there. Screaming for me but instead getting Brayden flailing around, clueless. I couldn’t bear to think of my precious boy having to sit there feeling terrible as he watched his father unable to cope.
My anger at Brayden buzzed like a bees’ nest kicked by a cow.
‘Well, it was at first, but then I told Dad he should try that game on his phone, the pony one. We took our food to the car, and he drove around for a bit while I held the phone and pressed the buttons for her, and in the end she stopped.’
‘Sounds like you saved the day. Why didn’t you tell me about it?’
He yawned. ‘Dad bought us an ice cream and said he was really sorry, it was his fault for forgetting the straw and he was the dad so he shouldn’t have got stressed, then I said sorry too, so he said we could forget it happened. Then he made a joke, so Isla started laughing and it was okay. It’s not that big a deal, Mum.’
No big deal?
Sitting downstairs, thinking about Isla screaming for me in the café, Brayden pointlessly pleading with her to be quiet, Finn feeling terrible, I grew increasingly irate. Why didn’t he call me? Why didn’t hetellme? If he’d been a proper dad, the kind who showed up for meetings about their daughter’s emotional health, who was around enough to know what she was going through and how to help her manage it…
I had to settle for a torrent of one-sided, imaginary arguments with my ex-husband that evening because he didn’t answer or return my calls. When he pulled into the drive the next morning as if he’d not even bothered to listen to the brusque message on his voicemail, I stepped outside to talk.
‘Is there a problem?’ He folded his arms across his chest. ‘If it’s about the antenatal classes, then?—’
‘I’m not going to start a professional discussion when you’re here to pick up your children, Brayden.’
‘It’s Brayve.’
‘You really want me to call you that?’
He glanced to the side before looking back at me, shoulders drooping. ‘No. Brayden’s fine.’ He paused. ‘As long as Silva’s not around.’
‘Right. Anyway, Finn told me what happened at Café Fried Chicken.’
‘What?’ He had the audacity to look momentarily baffled before realisation suddenly dawned on his face. ‘You mean Isla getting upset?’
‘Yes,’ I ground out, making every effort to keep my voice down.
‘It was nothing. I forgot her straw. We sorted it.’
‘And bywe, you mean my eight-year-old son?’
‘Ourson. Who initially didn’t help before he showed me the game she likes. The place was heaving, so the sensory overload didn’t help, but once we’d moved to the car she soon settled. No harm done.’
‘No harm done?’I retorted. ‘You don’t think they found it upsetting, Isla screaming for me? Finn seeing you clueless?’
‘I wasn’t clueless!’
I narrowed my eyes.
‘Okay. So I did panic a bit. I’ve not seen her like that before. But we handled it.’
