Page 57

Adam

Wren uses a stick to draw a circle around the towering sandcastle.

Actually... ‘sandcastle’ doesn’t do our creation justice!

It’s a palace with eight turrets, an inner courtyard and roomy stables for her toy unicorns.

It’s taken us an hour to construct. Wren refused to leave despite the wind and rain, so we’ve powered on with our anorak hoods up.

My glasses are dotted with drops of water and I wipe them, looking out to sea.

The tide was creeping in slowly at first but now it’s streaming rapidly towards our trench.

‘We’re running out of time!’ Wren cries. ‘The moat isn’t ready yet.’

I use the larger spade and we dig deeper and faster, as frothing water threatens.

‘It’s almost here,’ Wren says, hugging my waist. ‘My unicorns are scared. Me too!’

‘Don’t be afraid!’ I leap over the moat and shovel the sand into thick walls. ‘This is our barricade... the first line of defence.’

Wren squeals excitedly and rescues the purple plastic toys before the flood finally arrives. Water swills against my barrier, and a crack appears. It deepens and widens, before splitting open. Within seconds, our palace is overwhelmed.

‘It’s time to abandon base and retreat!’ I declare as the water surrounds us.

‘I don’t want to give up,’ Wren cries.

‘Neither do I, but we don’t have a choice.’

I reach out my hand. She grabs it and we run up the beach, bent over against the gale. Wren’s grip loosens, but I hang on tight and don’t let go. We reach higher ground, panting.

‘I wish Mummy could have seen it.’ Wren sighs. ‘And Sophie.’

‘They’d have been impressed! But we can show Sophie and Grandma the photos.’

I call up the selfie I took when we’d finished digging.

It’s the first ever successful one of the two of us.

In all my previous attempts, one of us blinked or looked away.

Wren’s face is pressed against mine as I hold my phone, crouching down.

We’re both grinning despite the weather, our palace proud and majestic in the background.

Wren presses the heel of her wellie into the sand, creating a pattern. ‘Is Sophie going to be my new mummy?’ she asks, without looking up.

I’m dumbstruck for a few seconds, and debate how to reply.

Perhaps? I hope so at some point?

Sophie doesn’t want to think beyond this week, but I can’t help visualising our future... the three of us happy and living together in Bristol.

‘Erm, well . . . It’s interesting you say that, because . . .’

‘I like Sophie a lot more than Claire,’ she interrupts.

My eyebrow shoots up. I never introduced her to my former course mate the few times she came over late at night.

‘Claire was . . .’ I begin.

‘Noisy. She had an annoying laugh. And she woke me up whenever she had a nightmare and shouted for you.’

‘That’s true!’ I say, my face reddening at the memory of Claire’s loud orgasms.

‘I’m glad she’s stopped visiting,’ Wren continues. ‘But I don’t want Sophie to leave. I want her to stay with us.’

‘Ditto.’

Wren’s candour is a way into a difficult conversation I would definitely have put off.

‘The thing is, I’ve liked Sophie ever since we were at school.’ I take her hands, which feel tiny and cold in mine. ‘Carley’s your mum, and nothing will ever change that. Sophie could never replace her.’

‘I know,’ she whispers.

‘But I want Sophie to be a part of our lives going forward, if that’s all right with you?’

‘My unicorns say okey-dokey.’ She holds up the toys and puts them to her ear. ‘They told me they love her, a teeny-weeny bit.’

I kneel beside her, not caring about the knees of my jeans dampening in the wet sand.

‘I love you , Da-Wren, but not a tiny bit... I love you 100 per cent. I want you to be poppety-pop happy more than anything else in the world.’

She falls into my arms. ‘My unicorns are poppety-pop happy, Da... Da-Adam.’

I feel a prickle of disappointment she didn’t call me Daddy or tell me she loved me back, but there’s no rush. We have plenty of time to make our relationship even stronger.

When she finally lets go, we look for our palace in the distance but only a small mound of sand remains from one of the turrets.

Then it sinks beneath the tide and disappears, leaving no trace it ever existed.

I’m fiddling with my bow tie in front of the mirror above the fireplace, while rain pounds against the window. I’m wearing contact lenses to avoid steamed-up glasses all night.

‘Let me do that for you,’ Mum says, taking over. She finishes the knot and pats it. ‘There. Very handsome. What do you think, Wren?’

‘Hmmm?’

She’s kneeling on an armchair, the top half of her body hidden behind the curtains as she stares out of the window.

‘Never mind!’ Mum cries. ‘Have you seen any lightning yet?’

Wren ducks beneath the fabric, her eyes saucer-like. ‘No! Will there be?’

‘Probably. Thunder too. It’ll be quite the storm.’

‘Ooh!’ she gasps. ‘Sophie’s put lightning strikes in our quilt. She sent Da... Da-Adam a picture. I hope we see lots later.’

I’m less excited about the crappy weather; the roads could flood.

Staying in with Wren for a movie marathon probably is a better idea.

Sophie has never been keen to go to the party and the driving conditions will be even worse later.

On the way to Plymouth this afternoon, I passed an overturned caravan.

It had been blown over by the high winds, hitting the car behind.

My journey was without drama, but flying debris just missed me when I stepped out of the jewellery shop where Wren bought her gemstones.

I pat my dinner jacket pocket for the hundredth time, feeling for the hard outline of the small boxes.

‘Got everything?’ Mum asks.

‘Hmmm. Think so. I’m wondering if tonight . . .’

The doorbell rings, interrupting my nagging doubts.

‘That must be Sophie!’ Wren cries.

She scrambles off the chair and shoots out of the room.

I give my bow tie one last tug in the mirror, feeling ridiculously nervous as Sophie chats to Wren in the hall.

My palms are damp. My stomach swoops as Sophie appears in the doorway.

I stare at her, open-mouthed. She’s wearing a long green dress with a plunging neckline and has never looked more gorgeous, despite her worried expression.

She’s checked in regularly today, anxious about my Plymouth journey and beach trip with Wren.

I breathe out slowly. ‘Wow!’

‘Sophie looks like a fairy princess.’ Wren nods approvingly, balancing on one leg.

‘She certainly does.’ Mum walks over and kisses her on the cheek. ‘You look beautiful, dear.’

‘Thank you!’ She lifts the damp hem of her dress. ‘But I’m a bedraggled princess after running from my van to the front door.’

‘Was that thunder?’ Wren hurdles on to the chair and peers between the curtains.

‘Hopefully not.’ Sophie shivers, turning to me. ‘I’m glad you got to Plymouth okay. The roads are pretty bad.’

‘It was fine. No problems.’ I lower my voice. ‘Do you want to pass on tonight? The cab should be here soon, but we could cancel if you’re worried?’

‘No!’ Wren cries, leaning against the cushions. ‘The princess must go to the ball!’

‘You have exceptionally good hearing when you shouldn’t be “leaves dropping”,’ Mum says. ‘Cinderella and Prince Charming will get wet feet. Talking of which, I have to let the dogs out in the garden, and you need to stop bouncing on my chair.’

Wren slithers down but jumps back up as soon as Mum leaves the room.

I turn to Sophie, continuing Wren and Mum’s ball theme. ‘We might have problems finding a pumpkin to turn into a carriage if the roads flood. We could give it a miss if you’d prefer to stay in?’

Sophie frowns. ‘But I thought you wanted this?’

‘I did. I still do... but I don’t need to if you’re feeling apprehensive. It could be tricky getting a taxi back.’

I’ve given her a way out, but to my surprise she doesn’t seize it.

‘I’m willing to give it a shot, if you are?’ she says. ‘I think it’s important we’re both there – we talked about what we want to do.’

Toast Lily. Say goodbye. Leave the past behind us and start afresh.

‘True. In that case, you can’t go like that. You’re missing something.’ I pretend to look worried and rub my brow.

Sophie feels for her dangly earrings, checking they’re in her lobes.

‘What do you think she needs, Wren?’ I ask.

She reappears from beneath the curtains. ‘A unicorn?’

‘Good point, but I was thinking this.’

Sophie’s brow wrinkles with surprise as I whip out a black velvet box from my pocket.

‘Adam!’ she breathes. ‘What are you doing?’

Wren slides down the chair and runs over. ‘What is it?’

‘Wait and see!’ I reply.

Sophie opens the box. She lets out a small gasp as she pulls out a gold necklace with a Mobius strip symbol.

‘It’s to replace the one we lost,’ I tell her. ‘I know how much it meant to you.’

Sophie gulps, her eyes misty.

‘D-d-don’t you like it? I had it made specially, like before.’

‘I love it,’ she says. ‘Can you help me?’

She lifts her hair and I fasten the catch, inhaling the scent of fresh flowers. Lilies. Turning around, she looks down, touching the knot. Her chest rises and falls rapidly.

‘It’s perfect, Adam. Thank you.’

I pull out another gift from my pocket and face Wren, hiding it behind my back.

‘I have something for you. Which hand?’

She taps my right arm. ‘Correct!’

I produce the box and she snaps open the lid, squealing with excitement.

‘Oooh, a bracelet that matches Sophie’s!’

I help put it on her wrist.

‘It has the same mathematical symbol... a Mobius strip. Look at this.’ I run my finger over the curved silver loop. ‘Do you see how I’m back to where I began? It means that Mummy’s love for you never ends. It goes on forever even though she’s not here anymore.’

Wren’s eyes fill with tears. ‘I’ve been thinking about Mummy a lot today. I miss and love her so much.’

‘I know. But she’s still with you in your heart and memories.’ I put my arms around her. ‘And I love you too, Wren. Like the pattern in the bracelet. That won’t end either.’

She lifts her chin and manages a watery smile.

‘It’s time for my presents,’ Sophie says. ‘Wait one minute.’

She leaves the room and returns with a bag, handing it to Wren. She dives in and pulls out gifts, unwrapping them in a frenzy.

‘Look at this, Da-Adam. It’s you and me!’ Wren grins and holds up framed pictures of us from the zoo and a photobook.

‘They’re fantastic.’ I’m about to flick through the pictures when Sophie darts into the hall.

‘And now for the big one,’ she says, reappearing. ‘You both have to close your eyes and put your hands out. No peeping – I mean it.’

‘Fine!’ I put the book down and stand behind Wren, stretching my arms over her. Sophie places something soft and heavy in our palms.

‘You can open them now,’ she says.

I look down at the brightly coloured fabric.

‘Mummy’s quilt!’ Wren exclaims. ‘You finished it!’

I stare in amazement at the joyous shape of our lives: Carley’s, Wren’s and mine. Finally, I see the bigger picture: from my chaos, upheaval and confusion, Sophie found order, beauty and love. So many colourful fragments of memories make up the happy pattern.

‘Here’s the giraffe from the zoo,’ Wren cries, pointing to the light-tan and dark-brown patches.

‘And this is the pink T-shirt Mummy wore when we went there together.’ Her fingers trail across the material, resting on a bluish-green patch.

‘Mummy’s dress! She had it on for my Christmas show, and this is her lucky green blouse that helped me win at swimming. ’

Wren’s excitement mounts as she discovers the embroidered panels. ‘The red panda and Mummy’s cupcakes! That’s her thunder and lightning.’

Sophie has stitched Wren’s favourite animal and represented Carley’s sweet tooth in the centre of log cabin blocks.

They’re close to coal-black storm clouds and jagged yellow slashes, stitched in glittery gold threads.

I recognise Carley’s Stanford sweatshirt as well as Wren’s unicorns and tiny gemstones.

My gaze rests on the tunnel that represents my love of maths.

It’s intricate and must have taken Sophie hours to stitch.

The numbers 13, 7, 3, 24, and 112 are being sucked towards a shimmering white pinprick of light, getting smaller and smaller.

At the centre of the quilt are embroidered versions of Carley’s squiggles, surrounded by triangles and love hearts, and Sophie’s unique geometric shapes, which Wren and I sewed together.

I touch the 13-sided outlines. I don’t feel the slightest pang of regret about not taking the research forward. I’m emailing Dr Hunt with my decision first thing Monday morning and will tell Mum afterwards, out of Wren’s earshot.

‘What do you think?’ Sophie asks.

‘I’m speechless! It’s amazing! Everything I want to say ends in an exclamation mark!’

‘Me too!’ Wren throws it over her shoulders, cape-like. ‘I love, love, love it! It feels like Mummy’s giving me a hug. She’s here with us tonight, loving our quilt and the storm. She’ll have her own giant firework display later!’

She pirouettes around the sitting room. I laugh, my heart swelling with joy. I’m expecting Sophie to be thrilled with our reactions, but she looks on the brink of tears.

‘You’ve done a brilliant job,’ I say, taking her hand. ‘It goes far beyond what we were both imagining.’

Her fingers are cold and trembling, and there’s a pained look in her eyes as if she’s been given terrible news, not unconditional praise.

‘It’s perfect,’ I add. ‘We’ll both treasure it forever.’