eyebrows somewhere beneath his hair.
“They’ve been doing it at school,” Mina said. “Ice caps, single-use plastic, that sort of thing.” There was an apology in her voice we all understood.
“I’m in charge of recycling for the whole school.”
“And she’s persuaded the milkshake shop to switch to biodegradable straws.”
Three pairs of eyes stared at Sophia. We were used to this. Proud of it, I suppose, as though we were entirely responsible for the genes that gave our daughter the intellectual capacity of someone twice her age. And if sometimes the looks were more wary than awestruck? We could handle that too. We loved Sophia because of her quirkiness, not in spite of it.
“Well,” Rowan said suddenly, a fist on the table adding an exclamation mark to the word, “I, for one, think it’s remarkable.” He looked at Cesca and Derek, gathering their enthusiasm. “Five years old—”
“Nearly six,” Sophia said.
“Nearly six years old and already bringing about change.”
“Brava, Sophia!” Derek added. “Future pilot, police officer, and environmentalist!” We raised our glasses for the second time that evening, before Sophia was dispatched to brush her teeth.
“Will you read me a story—”
Mina had put down her glass in readiness.
“—Daddy?”
I’d been unable to hide the joy I felt, and I scrutinized Mina’s face for signs of jealousy as Sophia was saying good night to our guests. I knew what it felt like, after all, to play second fiddle. But there was nothing. As the weeks passed, I realized I’d had it all wrong. I’d been looking for fairness—for equal love, equal attention, equal status from my daughter. I’d been thinking about what I needed from her instead of what she needed from me. From both of us. Sometimes Sophia wants me to read to her; sometimes she wants Mina. Sometimes she reaches for my hand; other times, she pulls away, not wanting me near. Attachment disorder isn’t cured overnight, but slowly we’re making progress.
That first dinner turned into monthly get-togethers, and by the following summer, the occasional spontaneous game of rounders or sunny pub lunch. It was hard for outsiders to understand a tenth of what we’d been through, so much easier to not have to say it. It was good, too, for Sophia to see how we’d all come through it, and that adults, too, had the occasional setback. I liked to see her deep in conversation with Cesca or Rowan and watch her burst into laughter as the serious turned into the absurd. It was good for us all, I realized.
We walk away from the Old Bailey now, an awkward group on a too-narrow pavement, and retrieve our phones from the travel agent that acts as a left-luggage center for the court. Sophia is talking to Cesca, pointing to each of the signs in the window in turn.
“Athens. That’s in Greece. Rome is in Italy. Barbados is…Africa?”
“The Caribbean.”
Sophia frowns, although whether at Cesca or her own mistake, it isn’t clear.
“Bright kid, that one,” Rowan says.
“Runs rings around me.” I grin. “Did Mina tell you she wrote to our MP last month? All on her own. Got a letter back and everything.”
“Incredible. I’d put money on her going into politics, wouldn’t you?”
Rowan’s expression is guileless, but nevertheless I tense. “Ah, I’m not a betting man,” I say lightly. I don’t know if Mina told the others about my gambling problem. I don’t want to know. I still go to meetings, and apart from a tiny slip when we learned the extent of the fire damage, I haven’t placed a bet in almost three years. The odds of the three of us escaping with our lives had been as low as they could go—I won’t be throwing down any more chips.
We part ways on the corner, Cesca running for a train, Derek off to meet his editor in town. Sophia ends the earnest conversation she’s been having with Rowan, pulling a paper bag out of her rucksack.
“These are for you.”
Rowan looks inside. “Biscuits? Thank you.”
“She spent all weekend baking,” Mina says. “Honestly, I’m going to end up the size of a house.”
I’m about to tell Mina she looks pretty fabulous when Rowan tuts at her joke. “You’re beautiful,” he says, and I force a smile. Saying anything now would sound like an afterthought.
“Bye, then,” I say to Rowan. Mina raises an eyebrow at me, but Rowan shakes my hand and takes no apparent offense at my abrupt farewell. I wonder where he’ll go now—who he’ll share the verdict with. Despite his close friendship with Mina—and,