‘She must do. Are you sure you want to come?’ Doubt filled her voice. ‘We’re going to catch a bus and get ordinary cinema seats and... This isn’t like it was in Milan. This is Jodie’s world and...’
‘I get it. Don’t worry.’ There it was again—a sudden desire to tug her into his arms and kiss away that worried crease on her forehead.
‘And you have to let me pay. We’re staying with you and it’s important to me.’
He blinked, saw that she really meant it, and nodded.
‘And thank you for Jodie’s presents, and for making us feel so welcome—it’s really kind of you.’
‘No problem.’
‘Also...’ Now the worried crease returned in full. ‘I haven’t told Jodie that my dad is staying with Mum. I’ve just told her it’s an old friend. I don’t want to get her hopes up.’
‘Got it.’
Another example of the level of complications that came with familial territory—a reminder that his own chosen path was the optimal one.
Twenty minutes later they were on the top level of a double decker bus, with Jodie chattering excitedly, Sarah laughing. He couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to have that sort of bond. Complicated. And terrifying, he decided as they alighted from the bus and Jodie slipped her hand into Sarah’s. That level of responsibility, trust and love. The pain of losing that, as his mother had, would be horrific.
As they headed for the cinema Jodie asked, ‘Mum, which friend is coming to stay with Grandma?’
Ben saw tension enter Sarah’s neck and shoulders, but her voice was calm.
‘An old friend, sweetheart.’
‘Do you know him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Shall we visit him?’
‘Maybe when he’s feeling a bit better. But to start with it’s best to see what Grandma thinks.’
‘We could help him.’ Jodie turned to face Ben. ‘I’ve got a stethoscope and I think I may be a doctor when I grow up. I want to help people who are sick because of—’
‘Oh, look. Here’s the cinema! Popcorn for everyone?’
Sarah had practically leapt into the conversation and Ben wondered why. Perhaps to steer the conversation away from the sick ‘friend’? And yet instinct told him it was something else...
They entered the foyer, and as Sarah purchased tickets and popcorn the novelty of someone paying for him struck him, causing an odd sensation of discomfort. One that deepened as they made their way into the darkened cinema and handed their tickets over.
It occurred to him that they must look like a family. A unit. A couple with their daughter on a weekend outing. This was not his milieu, and for a daft second panic threatened—until common sense came to his aid. This was a one-off. Best to focus on the film—a clever animated story that appealed to all ages and taught a good lesson without being preachy.
‘Did you enjoy it?’ Jodie asked as they exited.
‘I really did,’ Ben said.
‘Who was your favourite character?’
‘I liked the supposedly wicked witch because she turned out to be good.’
‘And she had red hair,’ Jodie said with evident satisfaction. And she was strong and clever. And it was pretty good that she could do ballet and karate. I’m going to start ballet, and Mummy said maybe next year I’ll be able to do tae...’
‘Taekwondo,’ Sarah supplied. ‘So, are you ready for pizza now?’
‘Yes.’
Once seated in the high street pizzeria, redolent with the scent of simmering tomato sauce and pizza dough, and busy with families crammed round the tables, Jodie settled down with the supplied crayons and children’s activity booklet. Ben turned to Sarah, jolted anew by her fresh beauty. Her hair was tied back, as always, but pulled up in a clip so that tendrils of red fell to frame her face.