afterwards.
‘Back when I was a young foolish girl of twenty with a head full of marshmallows and fluff, Harry seemed like the most exciting man in the world,’ Jacqui continued. ‘I soon learned that exciting men don’t make good husbands. But still, if I hadn’t married Harry, I wouldn’t have had Charlotte, so I’m glad I did. And I’m sure that’s exactly how your father feels about your mother, isn’t it?’
Melody nodded, not because she knew for sure that that was the case, but because she’d seen no evidence to the contrary.
‘You see, children are the most precious thing in all the world, more precious and important than anything, and even though your mummy and daddy aren’t friends any more, they’ll always be glad they used to be, because it meant that they made you. And I happen to know for a fact that your daddy adores you. And, you know, it’s really important to your dad that you’re happy. And sometimes he worries about how you are when you’re not with him. Because he knows you’re a brave little girl and you don’t always want to worry anyone with your thoughts. So it would be great if I could tell him that I’d had a little chat with you and that you were OK with everything.’
‘I am,’ Melody said. ‘I am OK with everything.’
‘At home? With your mum? Is everything OK there?’
Melody shrugged and nodded.
‘So it’s a kind of commune , is it?’
Melody smiled nervously. ‘I don’t know,’ she said.
‘A commune,’ Jacqui said, ‘is a house where lots of different people who aren’t necessarily related to each other live together. Is that what it’s like where you live?’
Melody thought about the big, sparsely furnished house by the sea, about Ken and Grace and Seth and Matty, and the fact that Matty wasn’t Ken’s son and Matty’s dad lived in London and so did her dad, and decided that no, although it wasn’t a normal house, it certainly wasn’t whatever that word was that Jacqui had just used.
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, ‘it’s just a house. It’s Ken’s house.’
‘And this Ken – is he a friend of your mum’s?’
Melody nodded. ‘Yes. He talked to us on the street, when we went to get my shoes, and he said that Mum looked sad, and then Mum had a big row with Aunt Susie and Ken said we could live in his house.’
‘And Ken, is he married?’
‘Yes, he’s married to Grace, and she’s a lot older than him and she’s got a son called Matty, who’s ten, and they’ve got a little baby called Seth, who’s eight months old.’
‘So Ken’s not … your mum’s boyfriend?’
‘No!’ Melody laughed.
‘So they don’t … hold hands, or anything like that?’
‘No!’ she laughed again.
‘Oh,’ said Jacqui, ‘that’s interesting to know. And does Ken have a job? Does he go out to work?’
‘I think so,’ Melody replied. ‘I think he writes books. But not books about stories, but books about … feelings .’
‘Goodness,’ said Jacqui, ‘that sounds interesting. What sort of feelings?’
‘I don’t really know,’ Melody said. ‘Happy feelings, I think.’
‘Well, I suppose they must be very good books if he can afford to have a big house by the seaside and pay for lots of people to live there.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Melody, ‘they must be brilliant.’
Melody felt like Jacqui was trying to make her say more words than she was able to say. She had a look on her face like someone who wants another slice of cake but is feeling too shy to ask.
There was a short silence until Jacqui sighed, and said, ‘Anyway – I really hope that as the years go by, you’ll feel more and more comfortable with the way things have turned out. And that we can all kind of think of each other as one big, unusual, happy family. Because,’ she leaned in towards Melody’s ear and whispered, ‘I love your daddy so much I ache and all I want is for us all to be happy. For ever.’ Then she leaned over and kissed Melody on
‘Back when I was a young foolish girl of twenty with a head full of marshmallows and fluff, Harry seemed like the most exciting man in the world,’ Jacqui continued. ‘I soon learned that exciting men don’t make good husbands. But still, if I hadn’t married Harry, I wouldn’t have had Charlotte, so I’m glad I did. And I’m sure that’s exactly how your father feels about your mother, isn’t it?’
Melody nodded, not because she knew for sure that that was the case, but because she’d seen no evidence to the contrary.
‘You see, children are the most precious thing in all the world, more precious and important than anything, and even though your mummy and daddy aren’t friends any more, they’ll always be glad they used to be, because it meant that they made you. And I happen to know for a fact that your daddy adores you. And, you know, it’s really important to your dad that you’re happy. And sometimes he worries about how you are when you’re not with him. Because he knows you’re a brave little girl and you don’t always want to worry anyone with your thoughts. So it would be great if I could tell him that I’d had a little chat with you and that you were OK with everything.’
‘I am,’ Melody said. ‘I am OK with everything.’
‘At home? With your mum? Is everything OK there?’
Melody shrugged and nodded.
‘So it’s a kind of commune , is it?’
Melody smiled nervously. ‘I don’t know,’ she said.
‘A commune,’ Jacqui said, ‘is a house where lots of different people who aren’t necessarily related to each other live together. Is that what it’s like where you live?’
Melody thought about the big, sparsely furnished house by the sea, about Ken and Grace and Seth and Matty, and the fact that Matty wasn’t Ken’s son and Matty’s dad lived in London and so did her dad, and decided that no, although it wasn’t a normal house, it certainly wasn’t whatever that word was that Jacqui had just used.
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, ‘it’s just a house. It’s Ken’s house.’
‘And this Ken – is he a friend of your mum’s?’
Melody nodded. ‘Yes. He talked to us on the street, when we went to get my shoes, and he said that Mum looked sad, and then Mum had a big row with Aunt Susie and Ken said we could live in his house.’
‘And Ken, is he married?’
‘Yes, he’s married to Grace, and she’s a lot older than him and she’s got a son called Matty, who’s ten, and they’ve got a little baby called Seth, who’s eight months old.’
‘So Ken’s not … your mum’s boyfriend?’
‘No!’ Melody laughed.
‘So they don’t … hold hands, or anything like that?’
‘No!’ she laughed again.
‘Oh,’ said Jacqui, ‘that’s interesting to know. And does Ken have a job? Does he go out to work?’
‘I think so,’ Melody replied. ‘I think he writes books. But not books about stories, but books about … feelings .’
‘Goodness,’ said Jacqui, ‘that sounds interesting. What sort of feelings?’
‘I don’t really know,’ Melody said. ‘Happy feelings, I think.’
‘Well, I suppose they must be very good books if he can afford to have a big house by the seaside and pay for lots of people to live there.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Melody, ‘they must be brilliant.’
Melody felt like Jacqui was trying to make her say more words than she was able to say. She had a look on her face like someone who wants another slice of cake but is feeling too shy to ask.
There was a short silence until Jacqui sighed, and said, ‘Anyway – I really hope that as the years go by, you’ll feel more and more comfortable with the way things have turned out. And that we can all kind of think of each other as one big, unusual, happy family. Because,’ she leaned in towards Melody’s ear and whispered, ‘I love your daddy so much I ache and all I want is for us all to be happy. For ever.’ Then she leaned over and kissed Melody on
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