they lovely?” Aisling had gone misty, as she did whenever there was a baby around. Lucy sometimes wondered if she would have to lock Aisling up when she got into her teens, to stop her producing her own baby. A pity I can’t have a baby, Ash would love it and it would be good for Rob too.
“We’re working on you having a baby. At least, Mohmi is. I hope her plan works out, otherwise we’ll have to find an expert in vasectomy reversal. Don’t give up on the baby idea. Today’s the day you meet its father! I’m so excited!” Trynor did a little dance around the room, bumping into the children’s guides who laughed and pushed him away.
Lucy felt fidgety and went back upstairs to comb out her hair and try to blow dry it. She was still in her dressing gown, but thought better of it and pulled on jeans and Robbie’s sunflower tee-shirt. It felt a bit tight, but it was clean and cheerful. It would do until she had to change for the dance. Downstairs, she pulled the ironing board from the cupboard under the stairs, fetched the basket of clothes and the iron and set herself up in front of the television, so that she could chat to the children while she did her least favourite job.
Finally she finished the ironing and put the last folded little shirt on the heap in the armchair with a satisfied ‘there!’ and looked round. Robbie was looking very glum.
“Daddy isn’t coming, Mummy.”
“I’m sure he’ll be here in a minute,” Lucy lifted the heap of clothes, “He’s often a bit late.”
“But Mum,” added Aisling, “it’s after half twelve.”
“Is it?” Lucy put the ironing down and looked at her watch. Aisling was right. Martin was always late and twice had been very late. He might yet appear, all bonhomie and cheer for the children and ‘this isn’t necessary, you know,’ for Lucy, as he again told her in an undertone that he was prepared to come back and forgive her for throwing him out. He didn’t understand that she was unlikely to forgive him.
“I’ll phone your Dad, something has kept him.” Lucy dialled Colm’s number and spoke with Colm’s wife. As she listened, she sat slowly down onto the couch and when she hung up, it was very gently. She looked at Aisling and Robbie.
“Your Dad is in London. She’s not sure for how long, but probably two weeks. I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t he tell us?” Robbie was standing up, his hands clenched at his sides. “I hate you, you made him leave, he would be here now if you hadn’t.” He ran from the room, slamming the door.
“I don’t know why he didn’t tell you, Ash. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think it’s your fault that he went to London, Mum. Robbie doesn’t understand as much as me. I’m older.” Aisling was looking at Lucy through tears. Lucy put her arms around her little daughter and hugged her hard.
“You don’t have to understand, Ash. No-one should have to understand this stuff, not even me and I’m ancient. It’s all right for you to be upset with me and your Dad. We’ll do something this afternoon to try to cheer ourselves up.” She kissed Aisling on the head and then went upstairs to comfort Robbie.
David went into the kitchen to see what there was for lunch and stood despondently in front of the open fridge, looking at a small piece of red cheddar and two eggs. He shut the fridge again and looked out the window at the summer garden, the overgrown grass that he should have mown, the straggly annuals that Clare had planted in the one clear bed. There was a slight haze of blue from a patch of cornflowers. The plastic table glared in the sun. Now, if I had some lettuce and several other things, and some enthusiasm, I could make an elegant salad and eat it al fresco, he thought as he wondered what to do with the meagre offerings in the fridge. I love good food, why do I forget to buy any? Maybe I’ll skip lunch and go to that tea-dance. They do good sandwiches there.
“Dad?” A voice called from the hall and Clare brought a scent of sunshine into the room. “Lunchtime? What is it?”
“I didn’t expect you back, you said you would be out all day.”
“Yea. Change of plan. Boring story.” She opened the fridge and looked in. “We’ve let this