The Ghostwriter by Sarah Sheridan

Author:Sarah Sheridan [Sheridan, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books

Chapter Twenty-One

The weekend was not the happy two days that it usually was when Danny and I were alone together. I felt stressed, trying to pack a travel bag with all the essentials that I’d need for a few days, while attempting not to let my worries filter through to my son. What should I bring with me? I wondered, distracted by the whole thing. Phone charger, underwear, shampoo, laptop. What about food? Would we eat out every evening? I certainly couldn’t afford to do that. Maybe we’d stop and get some essential bits on the way there?

I presented the idea of Danny going to his grandad’s for the following week as a great adventure, an opportunity for him to not only carry on exploring the ‘jungle’ outside, but also to find all the hidden nooks and crannies in the house. I regaled him with stories of when Marie and I were little, and how we used to play hide and seek – making Dad’s house sound as exciting as humanly possible. My son was soon sold on the idea, and seemed absolutely fine about the prospect of spending a few days apart from me. Which was great, a weight off my mind. But I couldn’t say I was feeling as calm as him about the whole thing.

Dad was old now, and not as mobile as he used to be. He’d also started to forget the odd thing, like where he’d put something that he’d bought, or where he’d left his spectacles. What if he forgot to pick Danny up from school one day? I kept thinking. What if he found it annoying, having a busy and boisterous little boy around for so long? I knew that Dad loved his grandson very much, but it was one thing enjoying a child’s company for the odd hour-long visit, and quite another keeping your patience with the same bouncy, active child for several consecutive days in a row, without any other adult to help take the pressure off you. I knew this all too well, from experience. And when I’d been young, Dad hadn’t been as chilled as he now was. I could remember him shouting at Marie and I if we made too much noise when he was tired after a long day at work. Mum and Dad had quite a traditional sort of relationship; she’d been the caregiver, the compassionate one who’d cuddled us if we fell over, and he’d been the hard-working disciplinarian. Danny wasn’t used to people shouting at him. Maybe I should have a word with Dad about it…

Christ, Polly, I gave myself a talking to while I hastily folded a pair of jeans and shoved them into my bag. Stop being a helicopter parent. Give your son some room to breathe. He’ll be fine. Dad will be fine. You’ll be fine in Wales. Just relax. Stop being such an over-worrier. An image of my mum, smiling at me, came into my mind. I’d be panicking about

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