‘What do you get out of this?’ I asked.
‘A home. A big sister.’ He rolled his shoulders. ‘Someone to show me how the hell to be a dad.’
‘Hey, Libby, is it true you’re bunking up with Toby Smithson nowadays?’ Sienna asked, interrupting the point I was making about water birth with a flutter of her fake eyelashes.
‘Ooh, cougar!’ someone else crowed. ‘Love it, Libby. You deserve a bit of fun!’
‘He’s more than a bit!’ a girl everyone called Tiny cackled. ‘Me and Tobes had a load of fun before Courtney came along, if you get me.’
‘Yes, we all get you, thanks, Tiny,’ Nicky called over the hoots and catcalls. She glanced at me, and to my disbelief there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.
‘This is not funny!’ I hissed at her.
‘This is not funny!’ she said to the group, trying not to laugh. ‘Libby is most definitely not bunking up with Toby, or anyone else. Toby is temporarily renting?—’
‘Permanently!’ Toby, supposedly making himself scarce, popped up at the window, brandishing a pair of pruning shears.
‘This class is confidential!’ Nicky called back.
‘Heard my name, didn’t I?’ He winked, leaning against the windowsill.
‘Ooh, Toby, are you back on the market?’ Tiny asked, sticking out her three-days-overdue bump.
‘Nah. Only one girl got my heart,’ he said, nodding to where Hazel was snoozing in her pushchair under a tree. ‘Sorry, ladies. Call me in about eighteen years.’
‘Well, I hope that clears things up,’ Nicky went on. ‘Toby is renting a room from Libby. I’m sure she’d have done the same for any of you, had you needed a place to stay.’
‘Aw, she would have done as well, wouldn’t you, Libby?’ The room buzzed with assent about how lovely and helpful I was, and how I’d do anything for anyone, including giving up my own bed if necessary.
Maybe Iwastoo nice.
‘Am I too nice?’ I asked Dad, when he dropped the kids off after school.
‘I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use,’ he said, gently.
‘What word would you use?’
‘A helpaholic,’ he said, without hesitation.
‘Wow. You’ve thought about this.’
He handed me a glass of juice. It was twenty-eight degrees outside and proving impossible to stay cool.
‘Have you ever considered whether you spend so much time doing things for other people because it provides an excuse not to tackle your own problems?’
‘I’m doing everything I can to help Isla,’ I said, a lump of humiliation in my throat. ‘What problems am I avoiding?’
He shrugged. ‘You tell me. All I know is that my daughter rarely smiles, pretty much never laughs. I can’t remember the last time she expressed being truly content, or happy.’
I almost choked on my juice. ‘I was happy and content this morning!’
I remembered that moment, sitting on the bench with a mug of tea, watching nature do its thing.
‘That’s good to hear. I hope you can find more of those moments.’
I pulled out my phone and set my alarm for six-thirty. An hour earlier than usual. That evening, while Toby cooked a pan of chilli, I scooped up the kids’ uniforms, washed what was dirty and set out what could be worn another day. I checked their school planners and made sure they had everything they needed in their bags. While I washed up, Toby helped them make lunches for tomorrow.
I then used the momentum to choose my outfit for Tuesday’s antenatal class. My nicest jeans and a silky blouse, because Brayden would be there and, while I no longer cared whetherhe found me attractive or not, I wanted him to think I wasn’t a disaster.
