If I Let You Go

“I made a picnic lunch for us. You love picnics.”

“I don’t want to go!”

She wriggled around, kicking her feet as if I’d asked her to do something unspeakable like … tidy her room, and I gently put my arm over her to calm her down. “Okay, we don’t have to go. But can you please come out from under there so I can see you?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere! I want to stay here!”

I got the feeling she was talking about much more than not going to Battersea, but I had no intention of bringing that up yet. At nine in the morning, I’d only had one coffee, and I’d hoped it would be at least a couple of hours before anything difficult cropped up again.

“Tilly, please come out from there. Let’s have some breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Her eating habits concerned me. She always ate breakfast, but she’d been picking at her evening meals, leaving half of it on the plate before saying she’d had enough.

“I’ll make you some pancakes,” I offered.

“No!”

“Fine. You don’t have to eat now, but I want you to get out of bed and get dressed.”

“No!”

“Matilda Rose Hartley,” I said, firmly. “Get out of that bed right now and look at me please.”

The use of her full name caught her attention, and she peered out from underneath the covers. So much rage in her eyes, but upset or not, I refused to let her act like a brat.

“Thank you,” I said, more softly. “Now, let’s get dressed and we can work out what to do today.”

“I don’t want to go out.”

“Then we’ll stay here. But you still have to get dressed and come out of your room.”

She threw the duvet aside, and shuffled off the bed to make her way to her

wardrobe. “I’ll see you in the kitchen in ten minutes,” I told her. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

To her credit, she did as I asked. She still had her sulky face on when she sat opposite me at the kitchen table and she hadn’t brushed her hair, but I’d nagged her enough for one morning.

“I had an idea about what we could do today,” I told her. “But, we can only do it if you promise to help me clean up afterwards.”

Tilly sat up a little straighter in her chair. “What are we going to do?”

“Nah-uh,” I said, smiling. “You have to promise to help with the tidying first.”

“Okay. I promise.”

“Good girl. I thought we could do some blow painting.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll show you, but we will need to run to the shops to get some things first. Would that be alright?”

Tilly tilted her head to one side, mulling it over. I could almost see her weighing up the pros and cons of going out to get supplies versus staying at home as she’d wanted.