Page 6 of Love at First Sight

I send back a yes! with a smiley face. I haven’t seen him as much as I used to, lately, and I miss him.

A wee daughter-and-dad brunch is just what I need.

Some him-and-me time. I’ve got loads to fill him in on, not least the business plan I finally polished off this morning for Stray Kids.

After talking to Cal about it, I’m feeling like I need to get a shimmy on and maybe, actually, finally …

go for it. Maybe that’s the reason I had to cross his path: for inspiration to follow my dream.

Perhaps that’s all the universe had in mind for me.

No. No! Cal and I are meant for more than that. We have to be! THAT CONNECTION!

Urgh. As much as I try to be rational about him, that little voice in the back of my head is determined to be heard.

On the bus home it’s busy because we’ve hit peak commuter traffic, but Henry is such a Londoner, hopping aboard and finding a spot near the doors with ease.

‘You sit,’ I tell him, when we spy there’s only one free seat. The woman at the window looks up and smiles.

‘I’m getting off at the next stop,’ she says to me, and then, turning to Henry, adds, ‘I’ll let you sit with your mum, darlin’. Excuse me.’

‘She’s not my mum,’ Henry says, cheeks flushing. We’ve had this before: he loves me, but naturally he loves his mother more. He has no patience for anybody getting my role confused.

‘I’m the nanny,’ I explain, letting the woman pass. She nods.

‘Well, he’s lucky to have you,’ she says. ‘Kids are your purpose in this world. I can tell.’

I watch the woman descend the stairs, thinking how nice it is she’d say so, and then turn my attention back to Henry.

We share AirPods and listen to Henry’s special ‘Taking the Bus’ playlist on the way home, watching the world go by on the pavements on the other side of the glass.

The Toy Story theme tune and Avengers: Endgame song wash over us as I give his little hand a squeeze.

Henry looks up at me, giving me his biggest smile and squeezing my hand in return.

Love for him courses through me. He’s special, and being his nanny is an honour.

I meant what I said: if I can’t have my own family, at least there’s this.

‘Me and Rex and Albert and Lily have decided that since ancient Egypt is so far away,’ Henry says as we walk hand in hand from the bus stop to the park, ‘we’ll have to go overnight.

We’ll go after school but then come back the next morning.

’ Henry has bartered getting twenty minutes’ play instead of going home to do reading homework immediately, since it’s nearing the end of term and this is England, so making the most of the weather is a must.

‘Right,’ I say. ‘And how long does it take to get to ancient Egypt?’

‘Four hours.’ Henry nods, matter-of-factly. ‘So ages . Can I go on the slide?’

I take his backpack off him. ‘Put this on,’ I say, handing him his cap. ‘And you can do whatever you want. I’ll be sat right here if you need me.’

Henry shoots off, running up the climbing frame and delighting in seeing another child he knows.

They engage in a spirited discussion that results in them taking their shoes off and throwing them down the slide, then going after them on their bellies to save them.

Meanwhile I perch on a rock under the shade of a sycamore tree, and pull out my phone to let Ali know where we are.

India has texted. Been thinking , it says. We need to make wanted posters for the mystery man!! If the only thing we know about him is that he shops at Whole Foods, then we need to print off a plea for him to text you, so when he’s there next he sees it!

That’s so India. There’s no way she’d do that for herself, but she’ll champion the notion to the extreme for somebody else.

I can’t put up wanted posters in Whole Foods!

Every Tom, Dick and Harry will end up reaching out – it’ll be dick pic central, and not in the nice, solicited way either.

And it’s pretty full on, too. Cal could see it and decide not to text because it’s too … too … brash.

No! I text back. ABSOLUTELY NOT!

‘Jessie, watch!’ Henry calls, showing me his super cat speed running from one end of the park to the other.

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, speedy!’ I say. ‘You went so fast then, sparks were coming off your shoes!’

‘Really?’ Henry says, proudly.

‘Don’t catch fire. Or else you’ll get a burned bum.’

‘Watch me again,’ he instructs, and he does some more fast running, which I applaud with gusto.

Every kid needs at least one person to act like the world revolves around them; one person who is totally delighted by them.

I try to be that for Henry. Ali is too, obviously, but with her being away for a few weeks a couple of times a year, and then having long days closer to home on set, I think I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t act as proxy.

‘That was even better!’ I yell.

Oh god, what am I going to do about Cal?

Are wanted posters really the best way forward?

I’m doubting myself now. India hasn’t texted back, which means either a) she has taken my word as gospel or b) she has ignored me and is pinning up posters right this second.

Maybe I should get my tarot done or something, see if somebody with a third eye or a sixth sense can read my future and tell me what to do to get what I want.

Which is, for the avoidance of any doubt, the chance to see Cal again as soon as possible, so I can put my number in his phone and have him put his number in my phone, and also to establish a date on purpose and/or potentially a plan for the rest of our lives.

No biggie.

After Henry’s twenty-eighth fast run he puts his hand on his knees and says, ‘That was hard work. Can I have an ice pop as a starter at home? For cooling me down?’

Henry has recently learned about courses in restaurants, and insists on having his tea served as starter, main and pudding. When we get home he’ll make a menu, and I have to take his order.

‘Ice pops aren’t really a traditional starter,’ I tell him. ‘But you can have one for dessert. And maybe do a glass of milk with ice for starter? To get cool that way?’

‘Good idea,’ Henry replies. ‘With a straw, though.’

‘Oh, of course,’ I say, with all the seriousness he deserves for such negotiations. ‘One glass of milk with ice and a straw, coming right up.’

We amble home, both sweaty from the early summer heat and ready to relax for a bit. Once we’re through the front door, Henry kicks off his shoes and puts away his bag, negotiating an episode of Hot Wheels to ‘help my brain relax’. I give him his iced-milk starter, and then get on with supper.

As I’m prepping, my phone lights up. Weirdly I think, Cal? But obviously it can’t be. I look at the screen. It’s Dad. I know he’s going to be cancelling brunch tomorrow, just like he aways does. I can feel it. I open up the message.

Can’t make tomorrow after all , it says, sure enough. Rain check?

I sigh and tell him sure, no worries, because I’m a coward who can’t stand up for herself.

I’ll bet his new fiancée, Simone, is back early from Cardiff, and so he’s chosen her.

Still. At least he’s let me know with some warning.

Once I sat in a restaurant for forty-five minutes waiting for him before he texted, so this is progress.

I guess. I wish I had a guy to go home and complain about him to, who could take me out instead to cheer me up. Urgh. I wish that guy was Cal.