Two’s company…

If you asked Mollie whether she struggled as a single mum, she’d have to cover her daughter’s ears before answering. Surrounded by friends, watching Esme grow into the sassiest eleven-year-old in North London, and building her name as TV chef Mollie Makes, Mollie’s never been happier. Well, that’s what she’d tell you. But as her best friends pair off, and Esme starts getting into trouble at school, Mollie wonders whether life would be different – not better…but easier – with a team mate.

Three’s a crowd?

But Esme’s dad, Jamie, would be the last man Mollie would team up with. After all, he made it clear eleven years ago that he wasn’t interested in playing the family game. So when he suddenly reappears, Mollie can’t believe her eyes. And soon, she’s got to ask herself the hardest question yet: she knows she can succeed as a single mum. But what if her daughter doesn’t want her to?

Also by A.L. Michael

Goodbye Ruby Tuesday

Nice Day for a White Wedding

The Last Word

Driving Home for Christmas

My So-Called (Love) Life

If You Don’t Know Me By Now

Praise for A.L. Michael

‘I know it’s a good book when I shut the Kindle cover and sigh with contentment. The Last Word totally did it for me.’ 4* from Angela*

‘This is a funny, funny book.’ 5* to The Last Word from Rosee**

‘Fresh, fast and … had that magical romance feeling and a bit of hotness that you just can’t help but love. Absolutely brilliant!’ 5* to The Last Word from The Book Geek Wears Pajamas

‘I LOVED THIS. I laughed, I cried, I fell in love. All of the emotions were felt in the reading of this book and it is definitely one of the best Christmas releases that I’ve read this year.’ 5* to Driving Home for Christmas from Erin’s Choice**

‘I laughed, I cried and I was left with that warm fuzzy feeling you get when you read something wonderful.’ 5* to Driving Home for Christmas from That Thing She Reads

‘The story put a huge smile on my face and it’s just a feel-good with a bit of spark, glimmer, friendship, heart, fun and love. I couldn’t put it down!!!’ 5* to My So-Called (Love) Life from Simona**

‘My So-Called (Love) Life was one of those books I just happened to read at the right time which completely lifted my mood and made me feel and smile and want to start reading again.’ 5* to My So-Called (Love) Life from Sophie*

*Review from Goodreads

**Review from Amazon

Be My Baby

The House on Camden Square

A. L. Michael

A. L. MICHAEL

is a twenty-something writer from North London, currently living in Watford. She has a BA in English Literature with Creative Writing, and an MA in Creative Entrepreneurship (both from UEA) and is studying for an MSc in Creative Writing for Therapeutic Purposes. She is not at all dependent on her student discount card. She works as a therapeutic creative facilitator, a reports writer, and is currently working on her eighth novel.

Big love to my writer friends for constantly listen to me whine, for my work friends for listening to me whine, and for all of them for recommending wine. And a huge thank you to three mama bear Mollie inspirations:

To the wonderful Sara Veal, of Huhbub, who arranged the sparkliest, most fabulous book launch a girl could ask for. And is some kind of superwoman.

A huge, big bear-hug of a thank you to Kaisha from The Writing Garnet, who has worked so hard to share this series, because she knows how much it’s meant to me. You’re a superstar, lady.

And thank you to Megan Stachini, who lent me Mollie’s name, as well as inspiring me with her amazing ability to work, succeed, dream, be a mum and kick some arse.

For those mamas, making it work no matter what. You’re warrior queens.

And for my Mama.

For so many reasons.

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Praise

Title Page

Author Bio

Acknowledgement

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Copyright

Chapter One

Well, Mollie thought as she desperately sipped her glass of Pinot Grigio, Ben was perfectly nice. But he was going to have to die.

This one was all Kit’s fault, suggesting a ‘friend’ from work. Ben was an accountant, he went to the gym every day at five a.m., he loved holidays in the south of France and would choose a good cheeseboard over a dessert, every time. Ben also chewed with his mouth open, and if she had to look at the half-masticated cow he’d been rolling around his trap whilst he’d been talking, for one moment more, Mollie thought she might vomit. Also, the man didn’t ask questions.

‘Well, I should probably get going, got a big morning tomorrow, you know,’ Mollie shrugged, signalling desperately to the waitress for the bill, and reaching for her purse.

‘Big morning?’ Ben smiled, ‘I thought you worked in the arts? Surely it’s all ten a.m. starts and parties?’Ah, so he did ask questions. Stupid questions.

‘Nope, I’ve started a company creating healthy, exciting food for kids. I’m being interviewed for a morning TV slot. Mollie Makes...’ Mollie shrugged awkwardly, ignoring the fact that, whilst that was true, that wasn’t happening tomorrow. Tomorrow morning she was taking her daughter to school. Not that he knew she had a daughter, because Ben didn’t ask questions.

‘Oh no, not more of all that “kids can eat quinoa” bollocks, is it?’ Ben laughed, slurping at his wine. The wine he’d spent ten minutes telling the waitress didn’t have a full enough body, and was incorrectly described on the menu. ‘I ate chicken nuggets and chips all the time as a kid. If those obese kiddies are fat, it’s because they’re lazy and need to get off their games consoles.’

Mollie widened her eyes, but said nothing, instead sending a look of relieved appreciation as the waitress delivered the bill. The girl caught her eye and quirked a lip, she must have seen a billion bad dates at this table. Mollie brandished her purse desperately, hoping the waitress wouldn’t leave.

‘Oh no, no, Molls, my women don’t pay,’ Ben shook his head, reaching for his wallet, ‘besides, I don’t suppose you’ve got a gold card, have you?’

‘No, I applied, but when they asked for my soul as collateral, I had to decline,’ Mollie smiled sweetly, and Ben looked at her in surprise.

‘Well look, Molls...’ he pulled out her chair as she stood, ‘let’s talk about where this is going, I’m an upfront guy, can’t afford to waste time, time is money you know. So, how many dates before I get the keys to the kingdom, so to speak?’ He raised his eyebrows in what he seemed to think was a playful manner and grinned, hands in his pockets as he shrugged.

Mollie pursed her lips as if she was thinking, ‘Ahh, I see, I mean, you’ve got out the gold card, so...’

‘Exactly! I knew you were the sort of woman who understood how the world works.’

She was that sort of woman, Mollie realised. She was a woman in her late twenties, who had successfully raised a child, who had started a business, left her crappy home town and created a brilliant life. And the only thing that was missing was someone to share it with.

But apparently, in the eleven years she had been raising a child, men had started to believe that swiping right was what their opposable thumbs were truly for. No more. If this was how the dating world worked, then the fairy tale was dead before it began. It was time to put away the politeness.

‘Right, well,’ Mollie pouted, twirling her blonde curls around her finger thoughtfully, ‘I’m afraid my vagina doesn’t come with a card chip-and-pin machine. Or contactless. But thanks though. Word of advice? Maybe try chewing with your mouth closed in future. Or just keep your mouth closed throughout the date, that would work too.’

Mollie threw her shoulders back as she walked off, and the waitress grinned at her, clapping her hands silently in applause. Well, for her first date in eleven years... that went as well as could be expected.

The girls were waiting at the studio when she got back, making use of their new ‘business purchase’ – a projector – watching The Breakfast Club against the wall, curled up on some massive cushions. They were going to start doing movie nights at the Ruby Rooms, as the evenings got darker. She was working on some posh popcorn recipes. Or she would be, when she had a moment to think beyond Mollie Makes, running the gallery, and being there for her daughter.

Evie paused, looking at her watch, frowning and looking back at Mollie. Chelsea was about to throw a handful of popcorn in her mouth, and stopped.

‘So?’ They both looked up, eyes wide and hopeful.

Mollie threw her bag on the table and pulled her heels off, collapsing into the oversized pillows next to them and reaching for the popcorn. ‘So, I’m going to murder Kit. How come he’s so lovely and he can be friends with a dickhead like that?’

Chelsea bit her lip, debating defending her fiancé’s choice in the set-up, ‘I mean, friend might be a bit strong... acquaintance, work colleague...’

‘One that he felt would be a good match for me?’ Mollie huffed, ‘Has he met me? I mean, does Kit actually like me, because that felt a lot like a punishment. Is he still annoyed about that time I shouted because he gave Esme that triple chocolate fudge cupcake before dinner?’

‘It was a sweet thought,’ Evie said fairly, handing over a bowl of Maltesers, ‘it can’t have been that bad.’

‘He asked me how many times he was going to have to pay for dinner before he got the, and I quote, “keys to the kingdom”.’

Evie raised her eyebrows and looked at Chelsea, ‘We’re going to have to talk to Kit. There was a level of trust involved here. He may need to be punished. Or he’s just not allowed to have opinions any more.’

Chelsea rolled her eyes, ‘It comes from a place of love. He just wants you to be happy.’

‘And he wants me to have a date for your wedding.’

‘Be flattered – Kit thinks you’re so wonderful he doesn’t want to deprive anyone of your company.’

Mollie wrinkled her nose, ‘Well that’s lovely, but Kit gets no say any more, and if it throws off your seating chart, I reserve the right to tell him to go to hell.’

She stole a sip of Chelsea’s wine, then shook her head, ‘I’m sorry. I just... I was actually hopeful. You guys forced me into this, but I was kind of excited, to get to do the dating thing. I mean... I’ve never dated, really. Not in an adult way.’

Evie snorted, ‘Yeah, I mean Jamie was nice and everything, but a bucket of popcorn and a movie is hardly how adults date these days.’

Mollie’s face went blank and she pursed her lips together, not saying anything. Wrong move, mentioning Jay. They didn’t mention Jay. Ever.

The silence stretched on until moment passed, and Evie tried to carry on, ‘Anyway, it was a bad experience, the first time at anything is crap. Try, try again, right?’

‘This isn’t my world,’ Mollie tugged at her hair, ‘Online dating? Apps and setups? You guys didn’t have to do that. Is it so bad that I want a meet-cute? Do people not have meet-cutes any more?’

Chelsea frowned, ‘I don’t think people know when they’re having a meet-cute. I mean, I got chatted up by some obnoxious git at a party, and I let him carry on talking because I’d had too much wine and his eyes were pretty. And she,’ Chelsea pointed at Evie, ‘spent weeks fighting with some guy she called the devil more than once, before realising she actually wanted to fight with him in between kissing.’

‘Nothing cute there,’ Evie nodded.

Mollie flipped her hair in frustration, hiding behind the long strands and staring at her friends from behind the curtain, ‘I don’t know why I agreed to do this. Why I thought I wanted to. I don’t want to. I’m happy. We’re happy. Esme’s happy. Why do I need to date?’

‘Because you’re not avoiding it because you’re happy, you’re avoiding it because you’re scared,’ Chelsea said sagely, pouring Mollie a glass of wine, mainly so she could drink her own in peace without it being stolen every five seconds.

‘So what?’ Mollie pouted, crossing her arms.

‘When you’re more immature than your kid, it’s time to wonder about the situation,’ Evie agreed, ‘I mean, I haven’t seen you pout since you were seventeen and someone stole your art project idea.’

Mollie twitched her mouth and rolled her eyes, before smiling. ‘Okay, fine, but this was horrible. I mean, is this what dating is? You told me I had to start dating again, and I’ve shown willing. I mean, what, I’m just meant to put up with a year of dick pics, obnoxious comments about paying the bill and that up-and-down eye movement as they scan my thighs, until my Prince Charming arrives, one hand on his cock and the other on his bank card? This is not my future!’

Chelsea handed over the wine and patted Mollie’s shoulder gently, ‘Babe, you did what I asked. You put yourself out there. If you are truly telling me you don’t want to be with anyone, you don’t want to meet someone who might be a loving partner, who might see all the awesomeness that we see, and might be an amazing dad to Ez, well, then you don’t have to do it any more. But if even a tiny part of you wants the happy ever after, you’ve got to start sifting through the shit to find the gold. Dick pics and all.’

Mollie sighed, rolling her head back against the bean bag. ‘I want the happy ever after. Hell, I’ll take the happy-for-a-while.’

‘Adda girl,’ Chelsea grinned.

‘Here’s to Mollie, for being brave!’ Evie held up her glass dramatically.

‘Here’s to me, for telling that dickhead where to shove his gold card,’ she grinned, holding her drink up.

‘Hear hear!’

***

‘I’m just saying, it’s important to be able to do things for yourself,’ Ruby shrugged, brandishing the screwdriver in her left hand and the plug in her right. ‘Jamie might not always be there to do this stuff for you.’

Mollie narrowed her eyes, ‘I thought we’d been through this. He passed the stupid test. You like Jamie.’

‘I do like Jamie,’ Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘He may even be the only bloke who has a good heart, good intentions and a good smile, but I’m still saying, sometimes shit happens.’

‘Not to me and him.’

Ruby tried not to laugh, pressing her lips together, and twirled her red curls around her fingertips, head tilted in question. She waited.

Mollie laughed, ‘Okay, that was pretty pathetic, I’ll admit it.’

‘It’s okay, you’re in luuuurve,’ Ruby teased.

They sat quietly, cross-legged on Mollie’s bed as Ruby wondered how to proceed.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Ruby said, smiling as Mollie blushed, her long blonde hair falling effortlessly over her shoulders, her bright brown eyes soft and warm. ‘And people will want to do things for you because you’re beautiful. But when you let them, they expect something in return.’

‘Like those boys who give you lifts to town because you flutter your eyelashes and tell them you’d be just oh so grateful?’ Mollie raised an eyebrow.

‘You’re not me, babe.’

‘So?’

‘You’re good,’ Ruby shrugged. ‘You wouldn’t lead someone on, you’d feel guilty, you’d feel like you owed them. And an owed favour is the worst thing. It puts you at a disadvantage.’

‘Ruby Montgomery, the Godfather of Badgeley,’ Mollie snorted.

‘Look, I’m just saying, you’re going to uni, and I want to teach you how to change a fucking fuse, okay?’

Mollie rolled her eyes, ‘But what you’re really saying is – people leave. So I shouldn’t wait for Jamie to change a fuse. Because people leave.’

‘I’m saying people let you down. And that always feels worse when you’re sitting in a room in the dark because you couldn’t figure out how to fix your bloody lamp, you difficult cow!’

Mollie laughed, ‘Okay, okay, show me. But I will never believe that people always let you down.’

‘And as long as you can sort things for yourself, you don’t have to,’ Ruby said.

***

The next day, Esme sat at the breakfast bar and looked at her mother shrewdly, ‘So, you went on a date...’

Esme had never really been like a normal child, but with her light blonde hair parted into two pigtails, and her oversized glasses perched on the end of her nose, she could almost pass for your standard eleven-year-old. Except for the Led Zeppelin t-shirt and the drawn-on beauty spot. And those eyes that managed to see through to your soul and demand honesty.

‘Yes, I did,’ Mollie put down a plate in front of her. ‘Eat your toast.’

‘Did he bring you flowers? And say that you looked pretty?’

No, he told me my work was worthless but he’d still bang me.

‘Not everything’s like it is in the movies, baby,’ Mollie shrugged, stroking her daughter’s cheek.

‘So he’s not going to be my new daddy?’

Mollie whirled around and felt her jaw drop as her daughter giggled, winking at her. ‘Evie told me to say that.’

‘Tell-tale!’ came Evie’s muffled voice from her bedroom, down the hall.

‘Hate you!’ Mollie yelled to her friend.

‘No you don’t!’ came the response.

Mollie rolled her eyes and sat down on the barstool next to her daughter. ‘Okay, so you have questions? I’ll answer them. I know this must be weird for you.’

‘I think it’s great! My friend Olivia’s dad isn’t married either. Her mum left.’ Esme shrugged, ‘Apparently she was overly good friends with the gardener, that’s what Olivia says.’

Mollie snorted a little to herself, ‘Well, I’m sorry for Olivia, that must be really sad for her.’

‘Olivia says I’m really lucky that I never knew my dad, because now I don’t miss him.’

Mollie tilted her head slightly, stroking her daughter’s hair and feeling that pang in her chest, that underlying fear that she wasn’t doing a good enough job, clawing at her once again.

‘Would you rather I didn’t go out on any more dates?’ Mollie looked into her daughter’s light eyes, so unlike her own, ‘I don’t mind. I’m happy without all of that.’

‘I don’t mind, Mum, God, whatever,’ Esme rolled her eyes, ‘but can I go to Olivia’s after school tonight? She was going to teach me a dance routine.’

Mollie frowned, ‘A dance routine?’

Esme shrugged, a slight blush on her cheeks as she took a bite of the toast, ‘Yeah.’

Mollie shrugged, deciding the intended heart-to-heart had been appropriately over the top for her child and agreed, hustling her out of the house and down to school. The days were getting cooler, that smell of autumn leaves as Camden exploded into yellows and oranges. The leaves were scattered on the ground and Esme loved to crunch on them as they walked. Some days, Evie joined Mollie on the walk, and they swung Esme between them, other days it was just Mollie, taking that all important time to chat with her kid.

They stopped at the school gates, and Mollie looked past her child to the other children in the school yard, ‘Are you enjoying school Ez? If you ever want to have your friends over to the studio, we can do something, you know...’

‘Mum! I’ve got to go, okay!’ Esme huffed, ‘Whatever! Come get me from Olivia’s house. Her dad’s gonna text you the address.’

Mollie felt her chest tighten, that she was just meant to let her kid go with these people. She’d seen Olivia, at school, but hadn’t seen this mysterious green-fingered mum, or the jilted dad. But Esme had been quiet and withdrawn those first few weeks at the new school, having left all of her friends behind in Badgeley when they moved over the summer. This was the first friend she’d mentioned, and Mollie couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

‘Okay, I love you.’

Esme rolled her eyes again, briefly kissed her mum’s cheek, and ran off into the school playground. Mollie frowned as she noticed all of the badges and patches were missing from Esme’s backpack. Something wasn’t right. She felt it in the pit of her stomach. Esme was changing.

She thought about it as she walked back to the studio, making lists in her head of all the small things that had changed since the school term had started.

Esme had always been different, in the most beautiful and wonderful way. She was like a time portal. She loved music Mollie had never even introduced to her, and had a strange understanding of how people interacted. She often saw things before adults did. She saw Evie and Killian getting together from the beginning. She recognised Mollie’s relationship with her own mother, Linda, easily, constantly telling her to forgive Grandma and trust that she had the best intentions. Esme was a much better person than she was. And that was her greatest achievement as a mother.

But something didn’t sit right.

Mollie walked straight into the kitchen of the studio and got to work. There was an event she was catering, a small amount of baking for a local couple’s engagement party that weekend. That would be done easily enough. And then onto the prep for tomorrow’s segment on morning TV, thanks to Ilyaria, who lived in Camden Square and worked in television, championing their events and promoting them like no one’s business. Once she’d mentioned her new venture, Mollie Makes, fuelled by passion for healthy eating and a few too many glasses of Prosecco at a launch one night, Ilyaria hadn’t stopped until she had ten kids’ parties and an after-school club interested in what she could offer. She called last week to say they needed someone for their morning news segment. And there Mollie was, with a sudden moment of fame, and she wanted to vomit.

But first, coffee.

Killian wandered in at five past nine, the same as every day, and reached for the coffee pot. It was one of the things she liked about her working day, the fact that Evie’s boyfriend worked in the room in the back of the studio, and was always happy to have a chat and sample some of her first cookies of the day. This was part of the reason she’d been lulled into a false sense of security – Chelsea had found Kit, and Evie had found Killian. There were clearly good men out there. Men who didn’t know when to stop eating her freshly made cookies, and men who wanted to set her up with horrible obnoxious accountants, but good men. There was hope.

‘What’s that look for?’ He poured them each a cup of coffee from the pot, sliding one over to her, ‘Still grouchy about the date?’

‘Evie told you already?’ Mollie huffed. The other downside of her best friend and flatmate having a boyfriend who worked in the building.

Killian shrugged and ran a hand through his dark stubble, crossing his arms, ‘She felt guilty. Like they’d strong-armed you. She feels responsible. But, I was thinking...’

Mollie held up a finger, ‘Killian, I like you. I like that we have coffee every morning and that you’re crazy in love with my best friend. If you are about to suggest a set-up with one of your friends, I will kick your arse from here till Tuesday.’

Killian froze and then nodded, ‘Ah, that scary mama face. No wonder Esme’s an angel child.’

‘Well, that’s more what I’m worried about.’

Killian frowned, and leaned back against the cabinets, tilting his head in question.

‘I think something’s up with Esme. Do you think she seems happy?’

Killian shrugged, ‘She spent all summer at the skate park, playing with the local kids, she’s still her polite, book-obsessed self... sure, I think she’s happy.’

‘But she put her leather jacket away in the cupboard, her backpack hasn’t got any patches any more, and she’s hanging out with a girl who wants to teach her dance routines,’ Mollie frowned, ‘She hates that. It’s like when I gave her a Barbie doll and she turned the hair pink with a highlighter and cut it off.’

Killian shook his head, sipping at his coffee, ‘Molls, she’s gone into Year Six, she’s got one year to either ignore everyone and wait until secondary school, or try to make friends. It’s got to be pretty lonely, being as smart as Ez is. She lives in this awesome world where she has all these people who love her and she lives in an art centre. Her family are constantly doing these fun events, and people like me are being added gradually. She probably hasn’t got the same frame of reference as those other kids. And what you learn to do in that situation is hide the parts that are different, muffle them, just a bit. It’s survival instinct. Esme’s smart, but she’s not changing, she’s just blending in.’

Mollie tugged at her hair and sighed, ‘Yeah, you’re right, I guess. I just... she’s growing up.’

‘You’ve got years of teenage fights and drama ahead, don’t worry about it,’ Killian awkwardly patted her shoulder, ‘Focus on being freaked out about tomorrow’s on-screen debut. Do you know what time they’re coming?’

‘Six-thirty a.m.! I was gonna ask Evie to take Esme to school, if it runs over.’

‘Sure, if not, I’ll take her, I’m finishing a project tonight and then I’m free tomorrow.’

Mollie grinned, ‘I really am glad you stuck around.’

‘Didn’t have much of a choice. That Evie, she kind of gets under your skin.’ Killian drained the coffee, ‘Anyway, I’ve got a day bed to build. And seeing as there’s no cookies or baked goods to keep me from my work...’

He wiggled his eyebrows hopefully and Mollie rolled her eyes, handing him a cookie from the jar, ‘Incorrigible.’

‘That’s what they tell me,’ he laughed as he walked off back to his studio, and Mollie returned to her baking, turning her worrying from Esme’s school life to her own countdown to a national television appearance. She wasn’t sure which one was more upsetting, but one was definitely more immediate. She got out her mixing bowl.

***

‘And then what happened?’ Chelsea placed her hand on her chin, grinning as she sucked on a lollipop. Evie was pretending not to be interested, painting her nails a dark shade of purple, her fluffy socks with the pigs on rather ruining the goth-girl illusion she liked to save for the rest of the school. Ruby was sitting awkwardly, legs in her sleeping bag, tucking her knees up under her chin as she pursed her lips.

‘Chels, you don’t ask a girl for the gory details,’ Ruby raised an eyebrow.

Mollie paused, quite liking the brief moment of being the centre of attention. She paused in brushing out her long blonde hair, and winked at Chelsea, saying nothing. Mollie never got to have any of this, she was the quiet one, the shy one. Boys didn’t talk to her because they thought she was standoffish, or a ‘stuck-up princess’. But Jamie MacAllister didn’t think that.

‘He just walked me to the bus stop after the party,’ Mollie blushed, ‘It wasn’t a big deal.’

Evie snorted, ‘Yeah, it was. You look like you’re about to take flight.’

‘Well, that’s fine for you guys, you’ve all dated people and slept with people and...’

‘Hey Miss Assumptions, who do you think we’ve slept with?’ Chelsea raised an eyebrow.

‘Tommy,’ Mollie pursed her lips and watched as Chelsea’s shoulders lowered and she huffed.

‘Of course, they say anything. Molls, some advice, as nice as they seem, don’t go off alone anywhere with them for longer than ten minutes, because then they can tell all their mates you shagged them. When really, you got a half-hearted kiss, choked on the chewing gum they hadn’t thought to take out, and then let you walk home by yourself. Men are dicks.’

Ruby frowned, wriggling out of her sleeping bag and hopping up next to Mollie on her bed. Linda was out at a party of her own, and the sleepover had been planned weeks in advance. The party at Bridget’s house, then coming back early (because it would clearly be lame) and watching silly movies in their pyjamas. But it hadn’t been lame, someone had scored some beers and WKDs, there were older boys and the music was good. And there had been Jamie, Jamie who she had known since they were kids, seeing him around the playground, and then suddenly he’d transferred to their school this year, looking tanned and smiling with those perfectly white teeth, his floppy brown hair looking just so teen heartthrob.

And he’d seen her. He looked past Chelsea’s confidence, Evie’s thoughtfulness, Ruby’s beauty, and he saw her, standing at the back, as she always did, hands clasped, staring at the walls and wondering how long she had to be here until she could just go home and relax with her friends.

‘It’s Mollie, isn’t it?’ He’d said, grinning as if he was so happy to see her, ‘We went to primary school together, right? You probably don’t remember me.’

But she did, and for once, she was the girl who sat at the bench at the bottom of the garden, nursing a drink and talking to a boy who was interested in everything about her. For once, Mollie was the girl who shone, unfurling into light as someone listened. She felt important, special, cherished. And she had never experienced that feeling since.

***

Mollie was elbow-deep in wholemeal flour when her phone buzzed. A text.

Hi, this is Max, Olivia’s dad. I have your daughter. You can have her back under the following conditions. Haha. Address below.

Mollie blinked. Um, jokes about stealing kids were not a great start when you’d left your kid with a stranger. The phone buzzed again:

Obviously, I haven’t stolen your kid. Sorry. Not smart. Feel free to pick her up at seven. Max.

Mollie snorted to herself, and looked at the clock. Crap. She ran upstairs to get changed into her running gear, as Evie insisted on dragging her out every Thursday, especially tonight when she needed to de-stress before her debut tomorrow morning. Luckily, Olivia and Max only seemed to live a few streets over, and Mollie hurried.

She rang on the doorbell of the extremely impressive townhouse, the bright blue door with the stained glass windows giving her a very good impression of Olivia’s life before the door even opened.

She pulled on the old-fashioned doorbell and counted eight seconds before a man answered the door. His dark hair was slightly curly and he was almost clean shaven, with dark eyes and a warm smile. There were hints of grey in his hair, and the sleeves of his expensive white shirt were rolled up haphazardly. He looked effortlessly rich, and relaxed.

‘You must be Esme’s mum,’ he smiled, standing back from the door, ‘come on in, I’m Max, obviously.’

‘Obviously. Mollie.’ She held out a hand and he looked at her, incredulous, before taking it and shaking smoothly. ‘Hope Esme wasn’t any trouble.’

‘I doubt she’s capable of trouble. All I can tell is they’ve been practising dance routines for hours, and ate dinner before running off again. She’s a very healthy eater, she said that’s your influence.’

‘I’m setting up a healthy eating programme for kids,’ Mollie shrugged, about to explain about the news segment the next day.

Max frowned, ‘And how is it different to anything else that’s already out there? What’s your angle?’

Mollie bit her lip, ‘Um, I guess it’s not, except that I’m adapting dishes to make them healthy, so that kids can still have chocolate brownies, they’re just made with black beans instead.’

‘Ah, okay, so a hippie-dippie “make it with quinoa” approach,’ Max turned his back to her, ‘Liv, Esme’s mum is here.’

‘What is everyone’s problem with quinoa?’ Mollie mumbled to herself, waiting for her daughter to thunder down the stairs and leave this awful place with its cream carpet and the blue Persian cat staring at her from the windowsill.

‘And the problem with quinoa is more about how it’s causing farmers to starve in Bolivia, rather than any issues with taste or texture,’ Max answered smoothly, his lip quirking. Mollie considered the man, who was clearly ten years older than her, and spoke with an authority that suggested he was either a professor or an arsehole.

‘And what do you do?’ she asked in that way people do when they’re looking for a reason to judge you.

‘Finance.’

‘Of course,’ Mollie said simply, then called out, ‘Esme, I’m waiting here sweetheart!’

A small dark-haired head appeared at the top of the bannister, the sort of girl who would have bullied Mollie at school. She had poker straight hair and a perfect headband, wearing a t-shirt that said ‘Glamorous’ across the front. She smiled serenely.

‘Daddy, Esme and I are just tidying up my toys – perhaps Esme’s mummy would like a glass of wine while she’s waiting?’

She disappeared upstairs again to the sound of childish giggles, and Mollie was sure they were suddenly being watched.

Max quirked an eyebrow, ‘The kid’s got a point. Red or white?’

‘Sorry, I’ve arranged to go running with a friend, so I need to get Esme home,’ Mollie said, calling up the stairs, ‘Esme, I’m running with Evie this evening, please get your things together now.’

‘Oh good, you’re actually working out, I thought you might just be one of those mums who wears yoga pants everywhere, even though it’s clear they never actually work out.’

Oh god, thought Mollie, so my business idea’s unoriginal and I look like I don’t work out. Is there one man who doesn’t want to stamp all over me this week?

‘Yes, I actually run.’

The silence stretched out between them as Esme came down the stairs grumbling, letting her backpack fall from each step with a thump.

‘Pick up your bag Ez, and say thank you to Olivia’s father.’

Esme glared at her, ‘I was going to say thank you anyway. Now it looks like I wasn’t going to, and I’m rude. Thanks!’

Max intervened, ‘I would never think you were rude Esme, thanks so much for joining us today, it was a pleasure to have you. Come around again any time you like.’

Esme turned to her mother, nose held in the air, as if to say ‘see?’ but turned back to Max with a huge smile, ‘Thank you for having me. Dinner was lovely.’

Max nodded and Olivia waved from the stairs.

‘Lovely to meet you Mollie. Rain check on that glass of wine,’ Max nodded, that assurance the rich have evident on his face.

‘Definitely,’ Mollie smiled as the door closed behind them, ‘on the tenth of never!’

They walked silently for a few moments, Esme walking faster than necessary before Mollie stopped her.

‘Hey, lady, what’s with the attitude?’

Esme whirled round, ‘Why do you have to ruin everything?!’

‘I’m sorry your play date had to end early, you know I’ve got a very important morning tomorrow, I thought you were happy for me!’

‘Not about that!’ Esme shook her head, ‘Why did you have to turn up wearing that? And you’ve got flour on your nose!’

Mollie paused, ‘So I embarrassed you in front of your new friend and her dad. Well I’m sorry about that.’

Esme shot her a fierce look, like she was being dim on purpose, ‘You were supposed to have some wine with Olivia’s dad. And you were supposed to turn up looking all pretty like you always do when you pick me up. And then maybe you and Olivia’s dad would go on a date.’ She crossed her arms and huffed, ‘But you ruined it.’

Mollie smiled at the little girl with glitter on her face, her light eyes darkening as she glared at her mother, arms crossed, pout at the ready.

‘Baby, that’s very sweet of you, to want to set me up...’ Mollie crouched down and swept some hair behind her daughter’s ear, ‘… but Olivia’s mum just left, do you think maybe he might need time to be sad about that?’

‘Olivia said it happened ages ago,’ Esme shrugged, ‘and this way we’ll stay good friends and he seems nice, her dad. I’m usually right about these things.’

‘You were right about Evie and Killian,’ Mollie acknowledged, ‘I’ll give you that one, kid, but not everything works out like that.’

‘But I’m right about Tyler and Celia too,’ Esme grinned wickedly, ‘I started a bet with Killian about whether they’ll kiss before Chelsea’s wedding.’

‘Tyler is, whilst being very nice, a little bit gangster, and Kit’s sister was head girl at her school. They’re friends, that’s all. And it’s not nice to bet on people,’ Mollie sighed deeply, worrying that her daughter might be right about Chelsea’s brother. He was hanging around a lot more these days, and Celia always seemed to mysteriously turn up to events at the gallery when he was around.

‘Look, Mum,’ Esme shook her head seriously, ‘you’re not very good at this stuff, you need to trust me with it. I can find you someone really nice. Olivia said it’s really nice having a dad, someone to take you places and protect you and tell you not to go out wearing that... she said I should have one, and she doesn’t mind sharing hers. That’s nice.’

Mollie took a deep breath and tried to count to five, ‘Yes, but are you happy to share me? So I’d have to do things with Olivia, just her and me.’

‘No you wouldn’t – she already has a mum!’ Esme’s frown was deep set, and she suddenly didn’t like the idea any more. Mollie took her hand and led her over to the bench by the bus stop, sitting down side-by-side as the light started to soften into darkness.

‘Sweets, why were you really playing with Olivia today? I know you don’t like dance routines and girly stuff. What’s going on?’

Esme pressed her lips together and pulled on the sleeves of her grey hoodie, ‘She’s the only other kid who has one parent.’

‘You’re kidding,’ Mollie frowned, ‘Seriously? How is that possible?’

‘Or the only other one who admits it. Some of the other kids were asking where my dad was because they were talking about inviting their dads to some school thing. And when I said I didn’t have one, they asked about my stepdad. And when I said I didn’t have one of those they said... they said I must be horrible and that’s why I don’t have a daddy.’

Mollie fought the urge to bundle her daughter up into her arms and start ranting about what horrible tossers all those kids were, but she held back, watching as her daughter took deep breaths and set her jaw, not allowing herself to cry.

‘Oh baby, why didn’t you tell me?’ Mollie stroked Esme’s cheek, and watched as her daughter’s eyes met hers.

‘I didn’t see the point,’ Esme shrugged, ‘We must both be pretty horrible if he left both of us, but I know that’s not true because you’re lovely.’

At that point Mollie did pull her in close, squeezing her and letting her own tears fall, ‘You are not horrible. Your dad didn’t leave because of you, or me. We were just kids and he wasn’t ready to be a dad. You know how I’ve always told you girls are more grown-up than boys? Well I got pregnant with you, and I grew up so I could be a mum. But he wasn’t ready to grow up, so he didn’t become a dad. That’s all it was, baby girl. We have the loveliest life, don’t we? With Chelsea, and Evie and now Evelyn and Killian and Kit. All these people who love you and think you’re amazing. So what’s one man who couldn’t grow up?’

Esme nodded, sighing deeply and squeezing her mum’s hand, and saying, ‘Okay, but if you have to pick me up from Olivia’s again, will you say yes to the glass of wine?’

‘Maybe. Depends if you’re hanging out with Olivia because you actually like her.’

Esme shrugged as they started walking along, ‘She’s nice enough, she doesn’t read though. Which is weird.’

‘Very weird.’

They walked along in silence, Mollie stopping herself from reaching out and grabbing her daughter’s hand. She wanted to wrap her in cotton wool, keep her safe, she began to wonder why she hadn’t put herself out there earlier, whether she’d been selfish in thinking she’d been enough for her daughter. She should have started dating earlier, maybe she’d have found a suitable father figure by now.

‘Mum, don’t you miss him?’ Esme asked suddenly, looking up at her, ‘My dad, I mean?’

‘No baby, I don’t miss him. I don’t ever really think about him.’

Mollie felt her stomach clench as they carried on walking. It was the first lie she’d ever told her daughter.

Chapter Two

Mollie had barely slept that night, the fear of the next morning’s TV appearance – coupled with the overwhelming guilt that she had failed her child in offering her an alternative family – plagued her until the early morning. Evie had shrugged it off on their run, reminding Mollie of her own feelings about it as a kid, wondering who her own father was, but Mollie remembered the only reason she even wanted a dad was because she couldn’t stand her mother. Is that how her daughter saw her? As someone she wanted to escape from?

It was still dark when she got up and started putting on her make-up and her clothes, double checking her outfit and going downstairs to the studio, to await the camera team. She put the kettle on and got out the semi-healthy mini pastries she’d made the night before, putting them in the oven to puff up, gloriously brown and crispy, filled with chocolate and banana slices. She’d try to save one for Killian, especially if he was taking Esme to school that morning. It was hard to know how long the segment would run for, or what exactly they wanted. She’d set out some of her baked goods and recipes on display on the long table in the gallery, each item looking Instagram perfect and ready for the camera. Baked sweet potatoes piled high with roasted red peppers, Omelette Bites, Black Bean Brownies, Banana and Choc Chip Muffins – the whole arsenal of her healthy recipes, ready to defend what she was doing absolutely.

Max’s voice kept circling, asking what was so special about her, what was so great about what she was doing, why was she unique? She had no answer.

But there was the knock at the door, and there was the team, with them the plucky reporter – recently upgraded from weather-girl – Maureen McTavish. She smiled sweetly and her teeth gleamed, huge and white, taking up most of her face.

‘You must be Mollie! Ilyaria’s told us so much about you and the great work you’re doing! I can’t wait to see everything!’

Mollie welcomed them in, told them where to set up and passed round teas, coffees and fresh pastries to everyone. They treated her like she was an angel, fussing over the pastries and asking for the recipes.

‘Tell me about this place, Mollie, how did you end up here?’ Maureen smiled, those teeth slightly less unnerving as long as you didn’t allow the Jaws theme tune into your head.

‘Oh, well this space was left to us by our childhood friend, Ruby Tuesday, the singer? This used to be her studio, and she left the lease to us, to start up an arts centre. So now we’re up and running, with community events, classes, lots of stuff for kids, and I wanted to bring my passion to the front.’

Mollie was pretty proud of herself.

‘Ah, so there’s the angle,’ the presenter grinned to herself, nodding her head, ‘I’ll be sure to mention Ruby. And you run this with a partner?’

‘No, two friends from school, Ruby brought us all back together again, and here we are.’

‘Damn I wish we were filming already, I’m not going to ask any more questions, you’re much better natural,’ Maureen smiled again, flicking her dark, silky hair and positioning herself in front of the camera.

‘Ready?’ she grinned at Mollie, ‘So I’ll ask some questions, we’ll do some shots of the food and stuff and we’re good to go.’

‘Oh, okay.’

‘So, good morning people of Britain! Have you ever thought about what your kids are eating? Well, of course you have, with childhood obesity such a big thing in today’s society, and junk food being more prevalent. We’ve got food specialist and creator of Mollie Makes... here with us today. Good morning Mollie!’

‘Hi!’ Mollie squeaked.

Maureen continued her spiel at the camera, ‘We’re here today at the Ruby Rooms in Camden Square, where Mollie and her friends have set up an arts centre in the space left for them by – wait for it – none other than musical superstar Ruby Tuesday! What do you think Ruby would say about your healthy eating programme Mollie?’

That there were worse things you could do to a kid than give them an extra-large chocolate bar, and she’d experienced most of them? Mollie sighed.

‘Um, Ruby really cared that every kid got the same opportunities, that health and hope weren’t just reserved for the kids with rich parents, which is why –’

‘Well, that’s an excellent point, so can you tell us what you want to do with Mollie Makes...?’

‘Everything is fresh, wholesome and healthy, but there are still treats kids can have. My little girl is pretty open-minded when it comes to food, but I’m pretty sure if I’d told her these chocolate brownies were made with black beans, she wouldn’t have gone near them. But she loves them,’ Mollie shrugged, ‘I’m catering birthday parties, after-school clubs and hoping to look into making lunch boxes. Our kids are suffering because parents don’t have enough time to go through the packaging on food and figure out what’s had sugar added to it, what’s unhealthy, what’s going to leave them struggling to concentrate at the end of the school day. Believe me, I know how exhausting it is to be a parent!’ Mollie smiled, ‘My aim is to make that choice simpler, by providing fresh, creative alternatives to treats.’

Maureen turned back to the camera, ‘And we can attest to how delicious these treats are, folks! So Mollie, what’s next?’

Mollie tugged on her blonde ponytail and looked anxiously at the camera, ‘Well, I’m running a parents-and-kids cooking class, focusing on some of the nicest treats, and easiest dinner options, so kids and parents can connect through cooking healthy food together. The course starts in a couple of weeks and is run here, at the Ruby Rooms.’

‘Well that’s all we have time for, but thanks Mollie, for talking to us about your wonderful treats, and feeding us some of them! Look on the Morning AM website for Mollie’s Black Bean Chocolate Brownie recipe and for more information on the workshops.’

Mollie wasn’t sure whether to say ‘thank you’ or not, so she just smiled inanely until the little red light on the camera went off.

‘The guys will just get some shots of all of the food. Our team will email you for the recipe – it’s a good way to promote!’ Maureen smiled, ‘And I like that you didn’t feel you had to overplay the “I’m a mum” card, showing a bit of skin, I liked it.’

Maureen nodded at Mollie’s shirt. She looked down and noticed the severe amount of cleavage on show and almost fell over, ‘Oh, Maureen, sorry, do you think we could do it again? I didn’t realise...’ she gestured at her top and the woman simply smiled knowingly.

‘Oh, you’re very good. I really do wish you the best Mollie, I think what you’re doing is great, and you obviously know how to sell it.’

‘Oh no, it wasn’t –’

‘You’ll go far, Mollie,’ Maureen winked, ‘I think we’ll be hearing from you again.’

The team left soon after, the cameramen grinning at her, thanking her for the food, and Mollie collapsed onto the sofa, wondering how she always managed to make a fool of herself.

In Crouch End, not far from the studios, a man sat aimlessly watching morning television. He hadn’t slept that night, or the night before, and the mindless chatter of the television kept enough of his attention to stop his mind wandering. There were things he didn’t want to think about. He was back on leave from the army, and he knew the routine – it would take another two weeks before he could properly sleep.

But god, morning television was asinine. Top ten tips to your winter wardrobe, let’s chat to this nineties pop star who is now in a West End musical... why weren’t they talking about war, about politics? Why did no one know about the horrible things happening in other countries and what he’d been fighting for? That said, a bit much to watch whilst chomping away on your Weetabix.

He needed something to keep his mind active, he knew. He needed a distraction, a reason for hope. A new hobby, maybe he could volunteer at a charity or something. That’s what his counsellor said. He wouldn’t be confirmed ready to return to active duty unless he got his head in order.

He often felt that this wasn’t meant to be his life, that if he could follow it back to the root, that moment when everything changed, he might be living in a different place, doing something different. Instead, he had started a life of misguided gut instincts and limited choices, and here he was. A damaged soldier in a dark room, with no one to visit.

‘We’re here today at the Ruby Rooms in Camden Square...’ the perky news reporter with the scary teeth started and the man blinked at the screen, leaning forward and turning on the light so that he could see more clearly. Ruby Tuesday, they definitely said Ruby Tuesday. Which meant... that was really Mollie on screen. His Mollie.

She looked beautiful but awkward, her long blonde hair the same as it had always been, curling slightly at the ends, and her face had softened. She was wearing subtle make-up, and a smart white shirt with black trousers that made her look a little like a waitress for a catering company. Her eyes were still piercing, dark against her light hair. That shirt showed off how her figure had developed since they were teenagers, she looked womanly, warm and soft and strong. She was still as beautiful as he remembered.

He listened intently as she spoke, laughing awkwardly and looking into the camera at certain moments. It made sense she’d go into healthy cooking, her mum was terrible at feeding her. She said she’d once survived for two weeks on turkey dinosaurs for dinner, because her mum got eighteen boxes for a pound when the corner shop freezer broke. Suddenly all those memories started returning, all those moments with Mollie that he hadn’t forgotten, but stored away somewhere safe.

She had a kid, she was a mum. Well, that wasn’t surprising. She always wanted that, eventually. It was a timing thing, that was the only problem with them, back in the day. He was glad their issues hadn’t stopped her. The man ran a hand through the rough stubble on his chin and thought about it – well, he’d been the hurt party, she was the one who’d disappeared without a backwards glance or a telephone number. And if he was over it, why shouldn’t he stop by, see an old school friend? Especially when she was only down the road?

It felt like a sign. He’d been asking for a reason, a reason to turn on the lights, to leave the house, to engage his brain in any way. For the first time in the two weeks since he’d been back in the UK, Jamie MacAllister got up and actually smiled.

***

‘You know, Mollie would never have to know,’ Ruby fluttered her eyelashes and leaned in towards Jamie, her lips pouting.

Jamie snorted, taking a step back, ‘Rubes, either you’re a shit friend to Mollie, which I know isn’t true, or you’re testing me, which is a bit shit too, to be honest. So, what’s going on?’

Ruby leaned back and grinned, ‘Good. You passed. None of Evie’s or Chelsea’s boyfriends have ever passed.’

‘You kissed their boyfriends and they didn’t pull your hair out or give you a black eye?’ Jamie shook his head, ‘Girls are weird.’

Mollie walked over, frowning, ‘I told you not to do that shit any more.’

Ruby smiled, shrugging, her red curls bouncing on her shoulders, the school jumper wrapped around her waist. ‘He passed. He’s a good one. You have my blessing!’ Ruby waltzed off, grinning.

Jamie and Mollie were left leaning against the school fence, his arm around her shoulder.

‘I didn’t need your blessing, bitch!’ Mollie yelled after her, but she was laughing.

‘You know she’s kind of crazy?’

‘She’s protective,’ Mollie shrugged, leaning into him, closing her eyes as she rested her head against his neck. ‘But you’re in the good books now, so we won’t have any more problems.’

‘In life?’ Jamie grinned, stroking her arms, ‘So we’re not talking about what happens when we go to uni?’

Mollie looked up at him, her dark eyes boring into his, ‘What are you saying?’

He squeezed her, ‘I’m saying that we need a plan. If you’re in Bristol and I’m in York, we’re going to have to work hard to stay together. Even though, I could easily do my course at Bristol...’

‘And I told you I didn’t want you to make decisions based on me.’ Mollie pursed her lips, ‘You do you, and we’ll work the rest out.’

‘Why can’t I just be where you are? I can learn anywhere, but being with you makes me happy.’

‘Boys are so much younger than girls.’ Mollie rolled her eyes, ‘What if we’re still together, and you go to get a job that you’re turned down for, because you didn’t do the course you needed in York? I don’t want you to resent me, I want you to be happy, to miss me whilst we’re apart and be excited to see me.’

‘Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen. Oh, you sly woman,’ Jamie held her to him, laughing as he kissed her, wrapping his arms around her, ‘you’re going to destroy me.’

***

Mollie couldn’t spend too much time worrying about the interview, she’d gone back to bed for a brief half an hour, before getting Esme’s lunch packed and insistently kissing her goodbye before Evie took her to school.

Mollie couldn’t whine, she had stuff to get sorted. Chelsea had arranged for a crate of free wine from a local bar to be delivered, in return for some advertising, some walk-ins had asked for information about renting the space for their daughter’s christening, and a couple of the neighbours had stopped by to congratulate Mollie on her TV debut. It had been non-stop – exciting, but exhausting. Add on the fact that the studio had an event that evening and Evie had been standing on a ladder, fiddling with a lightbulb for twenty minutes, and Mollie was not in the mood for things to start going wrong.

‘Couldn’t you just call Ty?’ Mollie sighed. Chelsea’s brother had discovered a talent for lighting, and had created a beautiful lighting set for their latest series, a collection of photographs from the Camden History Society, opening with a play that evening. Called ‘Our Town’, it was something that the local community were invested in – they were finally on their side, no longer questioning Ruby Tuesday’s rock’n’ roll influence, or dwelling on the drama of the opening. The Ruby Rooms was Camden, and everyone wanted to see what they were going to do next. Which was actually more terrifying than defending every move they made.

‘Ty doesn’t live in London, smarty pants. And I’m not calling him to change an effing light bulb. Electrician course, remember?’ Evie groaned, reaching up on her tiptoes, ‘I can do it.’

‘Did Esme seem okay this morning? We had words last night,’ Mollie leaned on the doorframe of the kitchen, watching her friend’s dark curls shake as she wobbled on the ladder.

‘She wants you to date her friend’s dad.’

‘She said the other kids are being mean because she doesn’t have a dad, do you think I need to report it to the school or something?’

Evie twitched her lips, ‘Um... not really qualified to give an opinion here, babe. I mean, in Badgeley maybe ten kids in the year had their dads on the scene. You’d be more likely to be bullied for having one.’

‘So, I should let my kid be bullied because I wasn’t quick enough to go out and get her a stepdad?’ Mollie winced, shaking her head.

‘Oh leave off, you are joking? You have raised that kid in spite of Linda, in spite of your age, your situation and being alone. You have done an amazing job. Esme is stronger than any of that bullshit. I think maybe she just wants to make sure you’re happy. She wants you to have your happy ending, it’s simple as that.’

‘Yeah,’ Mollie shrugged, ‘maybe.’

‘Definitely.’

Mollie took a deep breath, tightened her ponytail and clapped her hands, ‘So, today, what’s the timescale?’

‘You’re in the kitchen, being awesome. By the way, I made sure your flyers for the Mollie Makes... workshop were sped up, they’ll be here this afternoon, so you can put them out on the sides. Hopefully we’ll get some interest from your TV performance this morning. The photographer from the Journal will be here about five, then the drama group. Kick off around seven.’

‘I love that you’re more organised than you look.’

‘Heart surgery looks like murder halfway through. Plus, the timeline is on the whiteboard in the conservatory. Just remember to take the delivery for the flyers, they never seem to find the entrance, no matter how much I explain the massive red door.’

‘I’ll leave it open, probably better whilst I’m making hundreds of canapes anyway,’ Mollie nodded.

‘And Killian’s going to pick up Esme in the van today, then drop her off before heading off to deliver his day bed.’

Mollie nodded, suddenly so grateful for all these people and how they had become involved in her and her daughter’s life. She hadn’t done this alone at all. She had more support than a nuclear family. She couldn’t be bitter. She could just be pissed off at those dickhead eleven-year-olds.

And maybe have a glass of wine with Max. Obnoxious, older, but slightly alluring Max. But all of that could wait until the pastry cases were fully cooked.

Mollie had her cooking habits, her creative habits, the same as the others. Some weeks Chelsea didn’t say anything, she just turned up at the studio, walked into the conservatory and put on some jazzy hip hop. Mollie would sometimes watch her dance from the kitchen, how her friend seemed to suddenly take up so much more space, she stretched and breathed life back into herself. Evie blared eighties rock from the back room before launching herself at a canvas like it was a lifeline, moving desperately and angrily until she let out whatever was inside. And Mollie was different again. She went into a zen state, smooth and simple with the Beatles playing on the speaker system, a little dance as she moved from the trays in the kitchen, back to the oven.

Time passed in a way it didn’t with anything else, when Mollie was cooking. She felt like everything else stopped and all that mattered were shapes, temperatures, smells, textures... things that could be seen and felt and tasted. Things that were obvious. The Beatles sang ‘Here comes the sun’ and she heard herself singing along, believing them as they said, ‘It’s all right...’

‘Hello?’

A voice echoed from the studio front door, and Mollie yelped, turning down the music. The poster delivery guy.

‘In here, door’s open!’

She wiped off her hands, but the buzzer started going for the mini quiches, so she grabbed her polka dot oven mitts and grabbed the tray, poking her head around the door to catch the delivery guy.

It was at that moment, wearing her Wonder Woman apron, with flour smeared on her cheeks, that Mollie dropped a tray of mini quiches, and realised she was staring at Jamie MacAllister.

***

‘Look, nothing has to change for you,’ Mollie said resolutely, hand on Jamie’s arm. His face was pale and he seemed to look past her, his eyes glassy and vacant. She scanned his features for anger, sadness, indifference. He was blank, but for the shock. Perhaps just the littlest bit of wonder creeping in around the edges. But maybe she was just being hopeful.

‘What?’

‘Your life can go on. I won’t resent you. It’s my choice. Go to uni, come back at weekends... if you want to, I mean... I’m just saying, this doesn’t have to be your problem. This can be my problem.’

His eyes widened and he saw her fully then. She recognised that emotion, definitely. Anger.

‘Molls, how long have we known each other?’

‘Since Year Four when you poured that PVA glue over my head and the teacher had to cut some of my hair off.’ She blinked, ‘So?’

‘You’ve known me longer than most people and you still had me down as the drop-out deadbeat dad? The weekender? Come on babe, that hurts. Thought you were better than that.’

‘You shouldn’t have to–’

‘Be responsible for you? For us? For what we’ve done and what we do?’ Jamie tugged at his hair desperately, shaking his head, ‘Why do you have to be responsible? Why don’t you get the choice?’

His jaw was clenched and she watched as he physically stilled himself to hear her answer. Mollie looked down at the rickety park bench that had been there forever, the middle slat missing, and the clear etchings of ‘J Luvs M’ on the back, top left, just part of the scenery.

‘I do get the choice,’ Mollie said simply, ‘that’s the point. I choose whether I keep it. I choose what happens to my body, and what lives in it. And I make the sacrifices that come with that choice. Because I’m going on gut instinct. I can’t defend it. I know it’s not the smart choice, it’s not the choice either of us need to make right now, and I’m making our lives more complicated FOREVER. But I feel... pulled, like a magnet. And you don’t get to have a choice – I’m having this baby. So I’m saying I get that it’s not fair and you shouldn’t be forced into anything.’

Jamie growled, frustrated, and crouched on the floor, looking up at Mollie on the bench, desperately trying to catch her eye, even though she was refusing to look at him. Her bottom lip was trembling and she didn’t look up.

‘Molls, if there’s a little person in this world with your eyes and smile, and my stupid hair and loud laugh, I can’t not know them. I can’t not be there. So don’t ask me again.’

His eyes were soft, light as he swivelled even further, trying to catch her eye and eventually succeeding. He smiled, stroked her cheek and Mollie promptly burst into tears.

‘Why are you always so bloody NICE, you bastard!’ Mollie howled, burying her face in her hands, ‘It’s not fair! Whenever I plan for things, you never do what I expect!’

‘You expected me to go, “Nice one Molls, know I knocked you up and everything, but I really need to try out drinking eight pints of Snakebite at freshers’ week and learning about the French Revolution a bit more. Sorry, catch ya later”? Come on. You didn’t really think it would go down like that.’

Mollie wiped her eyes and laughed, ‘No, but... you’ve got this big life. You’ve got these amazing things you’re meant to do.’

‘So do you,’ He sat back up on the bench next to her, waiting for her to curl into his side and rest her head on his shoulder as she always did. He counted to five before he felt her move, the warmth from her helping him to breathe a little easier, ‘We’ll do amazing things together. With an amazing little person, who’ll be part of us.’

Mollie sighed, ‘I just... I know you’re trying to be helpful and supportive, but I just...’

He squeezed her hand, ‘What do you need from me?’

Her dark eyes met his fully, and her nails dug into his palm as she squeezed the hand holding hers.

‘I need you to tell me you’re scared.’

Jamie laughed, that big honking laugh, his head back against the bench as the bright summer sky mocked them both, ‘You’re pregnant, we don’t have jobs and we’ve got to tell our parents we’re quitting uni to raise a kid! I’ve never been so fucking terrified in all my life! But we can be terrified together, right? That’s the one good thing about this, Moll – if we’ve got to do something hard and crazy and amazing, I’m glad you’re with me.’

***

Mollie stared at the ghost of the boy she’d once loved, the tray clattering to the floor as her hands shook. She looked at the floor, the mini quiches scattered everywhere, simply mumbling, ‘I’ll get a broom.’

She ran back through into the kitchen and doubled over, her hands clasping the side of the kitchen counter, exhaling shaky breaths desperately.

‘You can deal with this, you can deal with anything,’ Mollie mumbled to herself, over and over until it became something more than words, a hum in time with the beating of her heart.

When she finally stood straight, her shoulders back and her head held high, Mollie was ready to re-enter the room. Well, she wasn’t ready, but as long as she didn’t think, beyond ‘it’s Jamie, it’s Jamie, it’s Jamie,’ things weren’t too bad.

He looked different, she thought as she peered around the door, seeing him on his knees, picking up the pieces of pastry and throwing them back onto the fallen tray. But not that different. His light brown hair was cut short, harshly so, as though he was afraid of the curl that would arise if he let it grow. She remembered plunging her hand through that hair, soft and childlike. So like Esme’s hair when she was little. He was tanned, in that solid, even way that seemed weathered, like he’d been working in fields or outdoors. He’d never seemed like that sort, always a boffin, going off to study history. Or at least, that’s what she assumed had happened, in the end.

He looked up at her, eyes a particularly bright blue that seemed even more vibrant against his tanned skin, and smiled. Mollie almost had to catch her breath, it physically hurt to see him smile like that.

‘It’s really good to see you Molls,’ his voice was deep, a little rough like he hadn’t spoken in a while, but he sounded more well-spoken than he’d ever been. More clipped edges to his words. Why wouldn’t he stop smiling at her? Mollie thought she was going to be sick. She gripped the edge of the doorframe tighter.

‘You look exactly the same,’ he went on, standing up slowly, taking her in, ‘I saw you on the telly this morning, with your baking and that. I heard about Ruby, so I tuned in, and there you were, looking just the same...’ He trailed off, the smile freezing on his face. ‘I mean, I know things ended... well, it wasn’t great, but I was hoping, well... I just wanted to see a friendly face, I’m only back on leave for a little while, and there you were, you know? It felt, sort of... like I had to come. Maybe it was Ruby, sending a sign.’

Mollie stood there, opening her mouth every few moments, and finding nothing there. She looked at him, frustrated with herself for her silence, and then shook her head.

‘Jamie,’ she said softly, ‘Jamie. How, why? I can’t...’

Mollie felt herself crumble, as much as she wanted to remain strong, as much as that voice in her head screamed that he didn’t deserve her tears and that she was so much better than this, all she could hear was, ‘He left. He left you with a child. He promised he’d come back and he left. And now he swans in to see you because he’s lonely. The bastard! The bastard.’

‘Molls, what’s–’

The concern and surprise on his face was real, and he moved towards her, crowding her space as she struggled to breathe and the tears squeaked from her, tracking her face with marks from all that make-up she put on for the interview. She covered her eyes so that she couldn’t see the kindness in his, so much more infuriating.

‘Aren’t you going to ask about her?’ Mollie screeched suddenly, shocking herself. She watched as Jamie retreated, blinking. ‘Aren’t you even going to ask anything about her?’

He frowned, but before he could answer, the door opened once again.

‘Mum! Killian has gone to deliver some furniture, do we have... are you crying?’ Esme rushed over, her arms around her mother’s waist, ‘Are you okay? You never cry!’

Mollie wiped her face and took a deep breath, bending down so that she was face-level with her daughter, ‘That’s not true, baby, remember the beginning of Up? I cried a lot.’

‘Yeah but not...’ Esme turned to face the source of her mother’s discomfort, ‘Look, I don’t know who you are, but you’ve made my mum cry and I don’t like it, so go away!’

Jamie stepped back, but didn’t take his eyes from her, tracing the outline of her blonde hair, the curve of her lip, the vibrancy of those perfect blue eyes as she glared at him, daring him to question her.

‘How... how old are you?’ Jamie asked, his eyes not daring to move to Mollie’s.

‘Eleven,’ Esme huffed. ‘Are you listening to me? I said you need to go now, and don’t come back!’

‘Eleven?’ he whispered to himself, searching for Mollie’s eyes and holding them once she looked at him, ‘Eleven.’

‘Go! Now!’ Esme roared, and Jamie nodded numbly, moving like a marionette, falling from the studios and out into the light.

Mollie took a deep breath and shook her head. That was not the look of a man who had abandoned his girlfriend and unborn child all those years ago. That was the look of a man who never realised he had a child at all.

Chapter Three

‘So... he just stood there? Like an arsehole?’ Killian frowned as Mollie told the story.

‘What did Esme do?’ Chelsea filled up Mollie’s wine glass, then sat back down. They were sat in the conservatory, with the leftover bottles from the event that evening.

‘She told him that people don’t make her mother cry, and screamed at him to leave,’ Mollie arched an eyebrow and sucked down half the glass in two gulps, holding out for a refill.

‘So he didn’t tell her, or anything?’ Evie frowned, ‘Weird.’

Mollie hesitated, ‘I... I think he didn’t know. The way he looked at her, when he did the maths... I mean, she looks so much like him, those eyes...’

‘The cheekbones and the nose too,’ Evie added, then noticed a pained look on Mollie’s face, ‘Sorry.’

‘Hold on, how could he not know?’ Chelsea rolled her eyes, ‘I call bullshit. He was there when he got you pregnant, he was there when you told him you were pregnant, he was there when he told his parents he wasn’t going to uni, because he was going to raise this kid... did the man get hit in the head with a shovel or what?’

‘I don’t know,’ Mollie shrugged, ‘But I know what I saw. Pure shock. The way I must have looked seeing him, he looked when he saw Esme. There’s no way he knew.’

Evie ruffled her dark curls and looked at Killian, then back at her friend. ‘Molls, I don’t mean this in... I mean... do you think it’s just that you want that to be true? I mean, we all liked Jamie, he always seemed like the good guy, but... you know, here we are... he left without saying anything.’

‘He did say something, didn’t he?’ Chelsea added softly, wincing.

‘He sent me a note, it just said, “I’m sorry,” so...’ Mollie felt her cheeks burn at the humiliation, ‘Look, it’s been a long day, and I really don’t want to talk about the past any more. I just want to sleep.’

She knew as she said it that there would be no sleep for her that night, only memories that would be raked over finely, in detail, rewound and replayed to give a hint of a story, to create an alternative to the story she had so readily agreed to – that he was a bad guy who had left her. The question now, she assumed, was whether or not he would come back.

***

‘He’s staying with me,’ Mollie said staunchly, arms crossed, chin jutted, ‘We’re going to do this together.’

‘Oh baby girl,’ her mum laughed, hollow and throaty as she poured herself another gin and tonic, heavy on the gin, ‘I thought you were smarter than that. You were the one who was going to university. They don’t stay.’

‘He will, Jamie will. He’s good. He’s promised me.’

Linda laughed again, shaking her head, ‘You don’t sound old enough to raise a baby. You sound like one of those silly princesses from those kids’ stories. This is real life, angel. He’s not your Prince Charming, this isn’t your happy ever after – it’s going to be hard, you know. You don’t know how hard it is.’

‘I know it’s going to be hard, that’s why we’re doing it together. Why do you have to tear everything down and make it awful?’ Mollie pressed her lips together, willing herself not to cry in front of her mother, whose blasé attitude since she’d announced her pregnancy was making her crazy. She was sure, in that moment, she actually hated her mother; goading her, taunting her, where was the love and support other people got? Surely, even if she’d screamed at her, shown that she cared in some way, it would have been better.

‘Where is he now, Mollie, huh? Why isn’t he standing here with you?’ Linda’s dark eyes met hers and held them, a small smile in place as she knew the answer.

‘He’s gone on a final trip with his TA mates. He’s saying goodbye before everyone goes off to uni. He’s coming back, why aren’t you hearing me?’

‘Because thousands of girls have said the same thing over the years, and they’ve all been disappointed.’ Linda rolled her eyes, ‘Besides, who needs ‘em? Your dad walked as soon as the line appeared on the pregnancy test, and you turned out all right, didn’t you?’

‘It won’t be like that for us,’ Mollie insisted, ‘This baby can have two parents, who both love it, who can support each other and work hard. It’s possible.’

‘It doesn’t matter baby girl, he’s already gone.’

***

He arrived at ten a.m., shuffling and awkward, ringing the doorbell this time, as the door wasn’t open. Mollie peered from the window above, and wondered if she should pretend that no one was home.

‘You go let him in!’ she hissed at Evie, who stared blankly.

‘I can’t do that.’

‘Why?’

Evie widened her eyes, ‘Because it changes the conversation, we chat about what the other has been up to, and you don’t need that.’

Mollie deflated, and her friend squeezed her hand. ‘You’re the bravest person I know. You go get your answers. I mean, the fact that he’s here is a good start, right?’

‘Right,’ Mollie took a deep breath and thundered down the stairs, not letting her brain form thoughts. She was going to be zen, and calm, and let the answers come to her.

When she opened the door, he was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, head back. He opened his eyes as the door creaked open, and it was suddenly clear that Jamie hadn’t had any sleep that night either. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and he looked desperate.

‘You’d better come in then,’ Mollie said, standing back from the doorway, avoiding looking into those eyes that seemed to crave something; understanding, forgiveness... something.

He didn’t move.

‘I didn’t ask her name,’ Jamie said, his voice rough and dry, ‘I left and I didn’t even ask her name. And it’s been plaguing me, all night. Why didn’t I ask? I mean, she looks just... I should have asked. And I tried to see if you were on social media, if there was any way of finding her there, but you’re not and–’

Mollie cut him off, ‘Her name is Esme. Esme Louisa Williams.’

Jamie’s face crumpled, ‘Louisa was my grandmother’s name. The only family member I liked.’

‘I remember,’ Mollie said shortly. ‘Are you coming in or not?’

‘Why would you, if you thought... why would you give her that name?’

Mollie took a deep breath and met his eyes, ‘Jamie, we both have a lot of questions we need to ask each other, and you blubbering on my doorstep is not helping. Now can you come inside so we can be British and awkward and talk about it over tea, please?’

He nodded, and followed her through to the kitchen, hovering in silence as she put the kettle on and clattered with mugs. Mollie focused on her breathing, on the ritual of tea-making. She set out a tray, filled a pot, got out the red polka dot mugs she’d found at a car boot sale and a tray of biscuits that she’d made a few days before. Peach snaps. Something to crunch on so she didn’t say everything that was rolling around inside her head.

‘I’ll take it,’ Jamie said quietly, and picked up the tray, waiting for her to tell him where to go. She led him through to the conservatory.

They sat in silence as she poured the tea, her hands trembling just a little as she pushed the mug over to him. Mollie took this time to look at him, truly look at him, the sad man staring into his tea, his sharper features removing any softness that was once there. He wasn’t the same. The old Jamie fidgeted endlessly, he was always moving, always making noise. This man looked like he could impersonate a statue. The only way she could tell he was impatient was the little movements his mouth was making, like he wanted to talk and had to keep stopping himself.

‘I don’t even know where to start,’ Mollie said suddenly.

‘We could ask a question each?’ he offered, smiling hesitantly. The smile was the same. When he smiled he looked like a boy again. The same boy who promised her he would quit university and raise a child with her. She looked away.

‘So... Esme’s mine,’ Jamie started.

‘Is that meant to be your question?’ Mollie rolled her eyes, ‘It’s pretty bloody obvious, I mean, you saw her. She looks like you.’

‘She looks a lot like you too,’ he smiled. ‘All that blonde hair.’

‘Well, biology,’ Mollie shrugged, trying to keep her guard up, ‘So you’re saying you didn’t know she existed?’

‘Is that meant to be your question?’ Jamie copied her tone, ‘Do I look like someone who knew he had an eleven-year-old daughter?’

‘No,’ Mollie conceded. ‘Do I get another question now?’

Jamie shrugged, clearly not pleased about how this was going.

‘How could you be surprised? How could you be shocked that you had a daughter, when on the day we found out, you held my hand and told me our life would be amazing? How could you possibly not know you had a daughter when we made a plan to raise her together? You let me down.’

‘So that’s why you left?’ Jamie’s voice was thick.

‘I left?’

They sat in silence, staring at each other.

‘I feel like we’re having two different conversations,’ Jamie mumbled, rubbing a tired face with his hand.

‘Two different worlds.’

They sipped their tea, letting the quiet settle around them once again.

‘I called my parents last night, wondering if they knew I had a daughter. My mother told me to stop being so ridiculous, that surely I would know about it. There was something in her voice... she knew. She knew this whole time.’

His voice dripped bitterness.

‘Did they not stay in Badgeley? They would have seen me, seen Ez around town, wouldn’t they?’ Mollie frowned, trying to put it together. ‘I tried... I went there once but... the house was empty...’

‘Ez,’ Jamie smiled briefly, before shaking his head. ‘No, they left not long after I did. They were just waiting for the final kid to leave before they could move. They live in Kent. Did you... did you stay in Badgeley?’

Mollie made a face, ‘Where else was I going to go with a kid to raise?’

‘I thought you’d gone to Bristol, to uni, like the original plan.’

She shrugged, ‘I suppose if I’d looked into the possibilities of university life with a baby, maybe I would have. But it seemed too difficult. I stayed at home. And then, after Ruby died, she left us this place, and so we moved, me and Evie and Esme. To build a new home.’

He looked around, ‘It seems like you’re doing amazing things.’

‘Have you got other kids? A family?’ Mollie heard herself ask, and pretended it was just for Esme’s sake, a question that needed to be asked.

‘No, nothing like that,’ he shrugged, slurping his tea, more relaxed now that they were talking, ‘I’m in the army. Just got back from a tour in Afghanistan. I was out there longer than usual, so I’ve been encouraged to take a little more time on leave, get my head straight before I hear about my next assignment.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh?’ Jamie smiled, ‘Not what you were expecting?’

‘No, I thought you’d be a history lecturer or something, working at a museum, something... you know, boring,’ Mollie allowed herself a small smile, annoyed at herself, but it was hard to stop it, especially looking at the man in front of her, so unexpected, so different from that boy who loved books and the past. He’d made it as a cool kid, though, Jamie. Maybe because he was a good fighter, but mainly because he wasn’t afraid to laugh at himself. And because he’d been kind.

‘I studied history,’ Jamie sighed, nodding, ‘not at York, but... yeah, anyway, it didn’t seem... I don’t know. I carried on with the TA, joined the army. And here I am.’

Mollie frowned, ‘That’s the last thing I’d ever expect from you.’

‘Yeah, wasn’t where I thought I’d end up either,’ his smile faded.

The silence settled once again, and this time it bugged Mollie, ‘If you’re going to ask, just ask.’

Jamie didn’t even question what she meant, ‘I want to meet her. I want to know her, and know about her life and I want her to know me. I want to apologise to her for not being there. I want to be with her as much as I can...’

‘...before you fly back out to god knows where.’ Mollie finished, pointedly. ‘Do you think that’s fair on a child? She’s done well without a father for all these years. You want to offer her one, but then you want to disappear again in two months?’

‘I don’t want to disappear at all! It might be longer than two months, I’ve got to work with a shrink and they’ll assess when I’m ready to go back.’

‘So now you’re in therapy... you’re giving me more reasons to say no, Jamie,’ Mollie shrugged, ‘Look, I don’t know you. Esme doesn’t know you. You want to turn up and play dad, well, that’s not really how parenting works. Trust me, I’ve been doing it for a while.’

‘It’s not my fault she doesn’t know me!’ Jamie frowned, ‘If I’d known...’

‘If you’d known...’ Mollie frowned, her hand gripping the edge of the table. ‘Whose fault is it? What do you think happened, Jay? What made you leave and go off and live your life, if you didn’t suddenly decide it was too much sacrifice?’

‘You lost the baby!’ Jamie yelled, ‘That’s what she said. You’d lost it whilst I was away at that TA thing, and it was horrible and stressful for you, but you just wanted a clean break. You wanted a fresh start in Bristol, and if I loved you at all, I would give you that. You didn’t want to see me, it was too painful. That’s what they told me.’

‘Who? Who told you that?’

‘Your mum,’ Jamie shrugged, ‘and Ruby.’

Mollie wasn’t sure which betrayal was worse.

She looked at him, incredulous.

‘And you believed them? You just trotted back home, nodding your head, thinking “sure, that’s the opposite of everything Mollie has ever said to me, but whatever” right?’ Mollie felt her voice growing hoarse as she yelled, clutching the handle of her mug so hard she was scared it would snap. She felt the warm ceramic beneath her fingertips, her only lifeline.

‘I was broken, Molls, I... I’d dropped out of my uni applications, I’d made plans for us, my parents were angry...’

‘Oh, well if they were angry...’ Mollie rolled her eyes, gritting her teeth, ‘Why would you listen to them? And Ruby? Why would Ruby, of all people, the person who was helping me, supporting me...’

‘Because she told me I had to pass the stupid test!’ Jamie erupted, putting the mug down on the table, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘She said I’d passed the boyfriend test, but if I really loved you, I’d think about what was best for you, for your pain, not my pain. That I’d let you go, that I’d let you live the best life you could. She said I made you weak. That you’d care more about how I felt than yourself.’ Jamie looked up, ‘And she’s right. You were that person. You loved me more than you loved yourself. You would have given up everything for me. It was the right thing to do.’

Mollie felt her stomach collapse, wrenching around her torso, looking at him with pure rage, ‘This is my fault? I loved you too much? I was too selfless?’ Mollie put her hand to her forehead, ‘You were MY WORLD! And you thought that if I’d lost our child, I’D WANT TO BE ALONE? ARE YOU A MORON? DID YOU KNOW ME AT ALL?’

Jamie looked up at her as she towered over him, hands clenched, face red and puffy.

‘I guess not.’

***

‘You got another parcel,’ her mother threw it on the bed and trundled back down the hallway, a trail of smoke following her.

‘I’ve told you not to smoke in here!’

‘And I’ve told you to get your own place if you don’t like it!’ Linda replied, slamming the door.

The baby started crying, a high pitched wail that made Mollie want to cry with her. She was so little, the littlest, most perfect thing Mollie had ever seen. She held her daughter close to her, staring into those light blue eyes and desperately hoping they’d change as she got older, that they wouldn’t look so much like his. It hurt to look at those eyes sometimes.

‘Esme! We’ve got post! Shall we see who it’s from?’ She jiggled the baby between arms so she could settle on the bed and tear open the package. At times like this, she held her breath, allowing a brief moment of hope, that maybe it was Jay, that he’d sent her a letter explaining, apologising. That there was some sort of explanation that left him blameless, that he would come back for her and they could be a family. It was a lot of dreaming to fit into the three seconds before she opened the parcel.

It was Ruby. Ruby was the only one who sent her things, because she was the only one who knew she was still at home. Chelsea was sucked into Oxford life the minute she left, and Evie had tried hard, but eventually, she’d given up too, and Mollie couldn’t blame her. She didn’t give anything back, didn’t ask questions about club nights and societies, because she was more focused on her daughter’s sleep pattern. Not that she said any of that.

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