Even when Willow squealed and ran to give her a typically squeezy hug, Lilly barely responded. I set her up on the sofa with a blanket and her favourite soft toy.
Verity watched on with a wry expression, as if Lilly getting sick was somehow my fault.
I thought Verity would be rushing out the door as soon as I was back, muttering words about impositions and work commitments.
She didn’t.
Instead, she showed all signs of lodging here for a long time. She’d nested in the sunroom, making a bed out of the futon, surrounding herself with various exercisers, salt lamps and devices. I later learned that a couple of those devices were an ionizer and sleep apnea machine. She seemed to need a great deal of contraptions to get by in this world.
Willow and Lilly’s bedrooms smelled of strong bleach. Whatever germs and creeping mould had dared exist within those walls had been exterminated. I wasn’t going to let the girls sleep in their bedrooms tonight. I’d drag their mattresses downstairs and make out like it was an adventure to sleep in the living room. I’d sleep on the sofa, to keep an eye on Lilly.
“Want a coffee, Gray?” Verity called from the kitchen.
“Sure. Thanks.” Stepping into the kitchen, I parked myself on a stool.
While the kettle boiled, Verity straightened the mess of kids’ drawings that were fixed to the fridge. Her nose wrinkled beneath the bridge of her glasses as she plucked one of Willow’s drawings out and studied it. It was a drawing of her sister and herself, labelled with her tall, shaky lettering. “Lord knows why Eveline had to butcher Lilly’s name and spell it with two Ls instead of one.”
“She wanted it to match with Willow’s name, I think.” I’d never given the spelling of my daughter’s name any thought. And why Verity thought it important to bring it up right now, I couldn’t guess. “Hey, thanks for being here for them. It’s been a bit of a slog the last few days.”
She smiled. “They’re lovely girls.”
“Yes, they are.” Closing my eyes for a moment, I rested my head on my hands. In the space of a few days, my life had turned upside down and emptied out its entrails.
My eyes opened to Verity studying me while she poured hot water into two cups. “I thought she’d leave you one day, Gray.”
She’d caught me unawares. Being unawares with Verity was never a wise thing. She’d kick the chair out from under you when you weren’t looking.
“She left the girls behind, too,” I commented.
“She never was any good with responsibilities. That’s why I thought she’d take off. Too flighty.”
Did Verity know Evie better than I did? I’d fooled myself into thinking that I held that honour. I’d always thought she was completely wrong about her daughter.
“Well, maybe I’m just finding that out,” I answered. “Anyway, she’s made her choice. Now I need to concentrate on getting Lilly better.”
But her eyes sharpened. She wasn’t finished injecting her particular brand of Verity into the room. Not yet. “Perhaps Eveline couldn’t cope with Lilly being sick all the time.”
I stalled on my reply, not wanting to admit to Verity that Evie had been short-tempered lately with the girls. She’d seemed to have a constant short fuse. Their noise and squabbles annoyed her in a way they hadn’t before.
“It’s been tough for Evie,” I finally conceded.
“Well, she’s going to have to harden the fuck up when she gets herself back here.” She pushed the coffee across to me.
I’d forgotten how much Verity liked to swear. She was someone who actually enjoyed swearing, rolling the words off her tongue like favourite delicacies. It was one of the few things I liked about her. When she’d had a few drinks, her harder side tended to soften, and she’d swear like a sailor. Unfortunately, she rarely drank.
“I’m pretty worn out, to be honest,” I told her. “I don’t really want to get into this.”
Her expression adjusted. “Go have a rest. I’ll get dinner sorted and watch the girls.”
“Appreciate it.” I headed upstairs and sank into my bed. I really did appreciate someone coming in here and making dinner and taking care of the girls. I just wished that person didn’t have to be Verity.
I eyed Evie’s things around the room. Her hoodies and jeans still hung over the chair where she’d left them. A family photo montage was lying half done on top of a tallboy.
I flipped back to thinking Verity was wrong about Evie. Whatever had gone off-track with Evie had happened recently. She wasn’t restless and flighty. She’d always been the patient one, calmly breaking up the bitter death-matches between Willow and Lilly, instructing Lilly on using the potty for the hundredth time and somehow finding a core of strength when Lilly’s night-time waking had her up all night. She’d been patient with me, too. When I’d had a shit day at the office with Lyle and his cronies, I’d sometimes download my frustration onto Evie, snapping at her. She’d tell me that she was going to walk away until I remembered that she was my wife.