Has a place at the Oslo School of Architecture, is proud of how much she can recall from the conversation. See? She’s not losing her mind. Not completely, anyway. So much depends on sleep, it turns out. Tom is rubbing his face and sliding on his boots. “I don’t have the time, Aurelia,” he says, perhaps more crossly than he intended. He stops, looks up. “I’m not into . . . all that.”
“Into what?”
He rolls his eyes. “I work best on my own. If I’d wanted to teach architecture I’d have gone into bloody academia.”
“No one’s asking you to teach.”
“Maybe they’re not,” he says. “But that’s what it’ll turn into. You’re always saying I work too much. That I put my work before you and the girls—”
“Tom . . .”
There’s a tone in his voice that she doesn’t like. He’s angrier these days than she’s ever seen him. Is it exhaustion? Probably, but she’s worried it’s to do with Coco. Sometimes she actually fears he might hurt her in a moment of frustration. She’s so little, so fragile, and his anger makes him seem capable of things she would never say aloud. It was only a few weeks ago that he lay in bed behind her, his hands cradling the smooth roundness of her belly to feel each kick. He laughed each time he felt it. He positioned himself between her legs and spoke into her navel, mimicking the voice of an astronaut: “Earth to baby Coco, this is Earth calling baby Coco. Are you happy today, darling? One kick for yes, two for no.”
His slide into simmering fury has coincided with Coco’s entrance into the world, she thinks, kissing Coco’s soft, warm head. He wasn’t like this when Gaia was born. Tired, yes, but happy. Not angry. In fact, in all their years together she’s never known him to be prone to anger.
Or maybe it’s just the build. He’s frustrated by it. She’s watching him being ground down by it. And as for feeling he’s capable of hurting the baby—well, her maternal instincts are on overdrive. Still, it’s unnerving, the feeling that she would choose either one of her girls over him in a heartbeat. Maybe he can sense that, just as she can sense his anger.
He turns at the door, his face dark.
“It would mean a lot to Erik if you helped Dag,” she says softly. “No one’s asking you to give up your time. It’s just the gesture.”
A short smile, no eye contact. “Try to get some rest.”
She returns to the playroom, where Gaia is drawing at her desk.
“I wrote you a letter, Mumma,” Gaia says, holding a piece of paper aloft. “Would you like me to read it to you?”
“Oh, yes, darling. Please do.” Aurelia settles back slowly into the nursing chair while unbuttoning her shirt. No sooner has she unclipped her bra strap than Coco has lurched forward and clamped herself to the breast, suckling hungrily. Aurelia’s toes curl and she closes her eyes tightly against the pain, which quickly subsides.
Gaia stands in front of her, her posture straight, the letter held with both hands like an epistle.
“‘Dear Mumma,’” she reads. “‘I love when you spend time with me and I would like a pony, please. Can you send Coco back now as she is very noisy. Love, Gaia. Kiss, kiss, hug.’”
Aurelia grins. “That’s a lovely letter,” she says, puckering her lips for a kiss, which Gaia offers willingly. Aurelia cups Gaia’s cheek fondly. “I love spending time with you, too. Though I think Daddy would object if we got a pony.”
“What about the part about Coco?”
“You want me to send Coco back?” She gives a chuckle and looks down at her, smoothing the soft striations of downy blonde on her little head. “Oh, I think we should keep her. Don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” Gaia says in earnest. “We need to send her back.”
“Oh. Why?” Aurelia says, a little shocked by this development. Gaia had been very keen on her role as Big Sister all throughout the pregnancy. Even so, Aurelia had been mindful to buy children’s picture books about the adjustments required by a new baby, countering jealousy and so on. She thought she’d sliced up her waking hours—of which there are more than she can feasibly cope with—into neat proportions, ensuring Gaia got all the attention she needed. This letter, however, suggests Aurelia got the balance wrong somewhere along the line.
“She’s too small,” Gaia says. “And she’s too noisy.”
“I see,” Aurelia says. “You’ve