I shake my head sadly. She asked the same question last week. I even called her social worker to see if we could, but was told there was to be no contact. Allegra is still at risk, and though Daisy has been released from hospital, knowing Darren is still at large makes me agree with them. “How about we go to the cinema?” I suggest. “You can choose the film. We can share a bucket of popcorn.” I bump her with my hip, but there’s no sign of a smile.
“I miss her.” A wobble of her bottom lip. “When will I get to go home?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart.”
Daisy isn’t able to look after herself right now, let alone her daughter. Her bruises may have faded, but she’s so anxious and highly strung she can’t sit still for more than a few minutes. When we met for coffee two days ago she could barely light her cigarette, her hands were shaking so badly. Darren really did a number on her.
“I don’t like it at the home. Can I come and live with you instead?” Allegra grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly. “I’ll be really good and I’ll do whatever you tell me. I promise I won’t make a mess.”
Tears sting at my eyes. How do I explain to an eight-year-old that my husband wouldn’t let her stay? That my marriage is in crisis and she’d probably be unhappier at my house than at the group home. “Why don’t you like it?”
“The other kids are mean. One of them threw my book in the toilet.” She takes a shaky breath. “They told me I’ll have to live there until I’m eighteen because my mum doesn’t love me.”
I crouch down until our faces are on the same level, and reach out to hold her. “You know that’s not true, right? She loves you so much. She’s just not well enough to take care of you at the moment. But she’s trying to get better, and she told me she misses you. So much.”
“You’ve seen her?”
I nod, aware of the unfairness of it all. That I can see them both but they can’t see each other.
“Will you tell her I love her, too?”
I hug her close, as much to hide my tears as to give her comfort. “Of course I will.”
* * *
It’s nearly six by the time we finish clearing the room. The kids took Impressionism seriously, mixing a myriad of colours together until they all blended into a muddy brown mess, spilling paint onto the desks and floors. After I put the mop and bucket back in the cupboard and Niall places the last few containers of paint on the shelves, we turn out the lights and walk into the lobby. I’m in no real hurry to go home to an empty house, and Niall seems to be of a similar mind. We lean against the wall and chat as if we have all the time in the world.
“Are you okay?” He rubs his chin. “You seemed a bit upset earlier. Allegra did too.”
I don’t know whether I’m surprised that he noticed, or shocked that he’s said anything. “She misses her mum. And poor Daisy misses her, too. But they’re not allowed to see each other. Not until Daisy’s back on her feet and able to prove she’s responsible.”
“Even though she’s her ma?”
“She’s a drug addict who got beaten up so seriously she was in hospital for over a week. I don’t even want to think what could have happened to Allegra if she’d been there.”
“Jesus.” He looks as though I’ve just kicked him in the stomach. “That poor kid. She doesn’t really stand a chance, does she?”
“No.” I stop talking because more tears start to threaten and I’m so sick of feeling like this. As if I’m walking on a knife edge, inching my way along, frightened of falling.
“She’s got you on her side, though. That has to count for something.” Niall reaches out and lifts my chin up with his fingers until I’m looking right at him. “Don’t forget that.” He’s still holding me, his fingers cupping my face, and it makes my pulse speed.
“I won’t.”
We’re still staring at each other. My skin tingles. Every time he gets this close I have the same reaction. It’s not conscious, but the strength of my response still surprises me. I want to reach out and trace his bottom lip, touch the part where soft skin becomes moist mouth. I want to feel his teeth digging into my thumb as I push it inside, before he closes his lips around me.
More than anything, I want him to pull me close, meld his body to mine and kiss me like he used to. As if he had no choice.
But I’m married.
I’m married, I’m married, and I’m married.
If I think it enough times maybe my body will listen.
“Have you got anything nice planned for the weekend?” I change the subject, making my voice breezy and light. When I take half a step back his hand falls from my face.
“My ma is visiting for the weekend. A few days with me then she travels north to visit her sister.” His face turns almost comical when he adds, “I’ve been cleaning all week.”
I burst out laughing and it’s such a relief. Niall grins as if he’s accomplished something.