with Violet, he’d been so buzzed. But his crazy elation at Violet’s birth had quickly evaporated in the face of her unknowable needs and incessant howling.
According to Paige, he did everything wrong: fed her too quickly; changed her nappies too clumsily. When he tried to calm her cries, she always wailed louder. Violet didn’t like him, he told Paige – who said that now he was being a baby.
When Lenore was born, he’d hoped that she’d like him better than her sister did, but the same pattern was repeated.
He didn’t know where he’d gone wrong but they’d always been Paige’s girls. Now more than ever.
The truth was, he didn’t miss them.
Two buddies in his cycling club were in similar situations: divorced, living apart from their kids and doing okay. Sometimes, when they were a bit pissed, they talked about the shame they were supposed to feel.
‘I feel bad for not feeling bad,’ Dan had said, which was exactly how Liam felt.
Dutifully, once a week, he FaceTimed the girls – and those Sundays always came around so fast. He had so little to say and they had even less to say to him. (‘TBH,’ he’d told Dan, ‘if they decided they weren’t bothered about speaking to me, it’d be a relief.’
‘I hear ya.’)
‘Useless heap of junk!’ someone – TJ – yelled. The bat she’d been playing with had broken. ‘Grown-up needed over here!’ Her eyes slid right past Liam. ‘Ed,’ she called. ‘Can you help me?’
Ed had been earnestly counselling Vinnie-the-thug. Ambling over to TJ, he got down to her level.
‘Let’s take a look. Ah, right.’ He pointed at the handle. ‘See here, TJ …’
Ed had a way with children. It was all to do with how he managed his energy, Liam saw. He slowed it right down to the speed of the child. There he was, patiently explaining what had gone wrong. If it had been Liam, he’d have grabbed the bat, seen it wasn’t fixable, then impatiently urged TJ to play another game, while he shifted his attention back to something that interested him.
‘Can you fix it?’ TJ beseeched Ed.
‘I’ll give it my best shot.’
Maybe, Liam thought, because he’d been the baby in his own family, he’d never learnt how to behave with younger kids. Or maybe he was too selfish. Maybe some people just weren’t cut out to be fathers …
For much of the afternoon Nell was watchful, waiting for an opportunity for her ‘chat’ with Dilly.
Eventually it arrived when Dilly flung herself on her, looking for a hug.
‘Hey?’ Nell asked. ‘Can we have a conversation?’
Dilly squinted suspiciously. ‘A good one or a bad one?’
‘Aaaah …’ She didn’t want to traumatize Dilly and get into Jessie’s bad books. ‘An interesting one.’
‘Ooookay.’
They sat, cross-legged, on the grass. Liam joined them.
‘Liam is your godfather.’ Nell got out the envelope. ‘I’m Liam’s wife and this is from both of us. So. I haven’t known you very long but I think you’re aces.’
‘I think you’re aces!’
‘Can we tell you about a little girl called Kassandra? She’s eight years of age, the same as you. If you open the envelope, you’ll find a picture of her.’
Confused, but obedient, Dilly studied the photo. Uncertainly she said, ‘Her hair is cool.’
‘She comes from a country called Syria, where a war is going on.’
Dilly’s face formed into an expression of slightly theatrical fear.
‘It’s okay,’ Liam said, quickly. ‘She’s safe here in Ireland.’
‘But!’ Nell was not to be derailed. ‘She had to leave all her stuff behind in Syria. Her toys and her clothes and, well, everything.’
‘Can’t she buy new ones?’
‘Her mum has no money. And her dad is dead.’
Dilly flicked a fearful glance at Liam. She seemed genuinely moved.
‘She doesn’t live in her own house. She doesn’t have her own room. All their meals come from a big kitchen that feeds lots of people.’
‘So her mum doesn’t have to cook!’
Riiiight … Dead Dad was good, had impact. Mass catering not so good. Nell had better reframe this. ‘But sometimes she gets given …’ What food did Dilly hate? ‘… shepherd’s pie.’
‘Ewww!’
‘And if she doesn’t eat it, no one makes her another dinner.’ Like they would do for you. ‘So Kassandra has to stay hungry until the next morning.’
‘Oooh …’
Dilly was too privileged to understand hunger, but she knew the concept to be a tragic one.
‘So today Uncle Liam and I can give you two hundred euro. Or we can give Kassandra that money. It can be a gift from you to her.’
‘Could she buy a house?’
‘No,