Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“You can’t just say you don’t feel like it.” I shrug.
“You mean, I can just not go to school?”
“You could get a job, I suppose.”
“You’ve got to go to school. It’s the law. Uncle Raif said so.”
“Did he? He’s probably right.”
“He usually is.”
“Would you like to talk to him?”
Her gaze darts away. “He can’t help.”
“I bet he can. He’s very resourceful.”
“He can’t. And neither can you.”
Oof. Harsh.
“Then tell me who can help, and we’ll take it from there.”
“My dad,” she whispers, her brows pulling down to make a little shelf above her eyes. “He can help, but I know he won’t.”
“How do you know unless you ask?”
“B-b-because he doesn’t even like me!” she cries as she bursts into a flood of tears.
“Darling Daisy,” I say, pulling her into my lap. “Of course he does.”
“He doesn’t. I know it.”
“Ah, my lovely. Come on. We can sort this out.”
After the little love spills her heart, I leave Daisy in Primrose’s tender care and sneak out the back door. It would be easier to ask Leo exactly where he takes Daisy when she visits her father, but I don’t want to alert Raif to my intentions.
It won’t be a hard fix (I hope). I’m just going to appeal to Daisy’s father’s better nature. If he has one. I’ll just explain that his daughter needs his help. And that he needs to give it. Or else I’ll tamper with the brakes of his car.
Or something similar.
I think of a suitable threat in the Uber on the way over, I decide, pulling out my phone.
ME: Daisy’s had a tough day at school. Movie date after work & Prim is down for it. That okay with you?
I’m not lying exactly. Primrose is taking her. I’ve just been a bit vague regarding my own non-attendance.
RAIF: Thanks for looking out for her, princess. I’ll ask Sam to postpone dinner.
ME: We might grab a cheeky Nando’s. Will let you know.
The latter I add as a just in case scenario. It’s not that I won’t tell him what I’ve been up to. I will. After the fact.
Daisy’s class has a theme for the term with lots of their lessons centering around the topic of what people do for work. Because of this, some parents have been popping into class at allotted time slots to hold a little talk on what they do for a living, why they chose that job, what they do on a day-to-day basis. Stuff like that.
Personally, I think seven is a little young for career advice, but who am I to say so? I’m not a parent, though I am very protective of the children who belong to my family, Daisy included. I can’t help but feel protective of my husband, too. And that’s why I’m keeping this a secret for now. I’m trying to protect his feelings.
Long story short, some weeks ago, Daisy signed her father up for a career visit. The way she explained it, she was worried about being the odd one out of her little friend group by not signing her daddy up. The fees are probably astronomical for Daisy's posh prep school, and who knows? Maybe the demographics skew a little more to a family unit made of a mummy, a daddy, and 2.2 kids, but I doubt it. I have a feeling the issue is a little more about Daisy’s perception of how she thinks things should be versus how things actually are in her friend’s lives. My guess is she feels different and doesn’t want to.
On the sofa, we’d talked about how families come in all shapes and sizes. How some children have one parent, and others live in blended families with multiples. How it’s perfectly fine and ordinary for a child to have two mummies or two daddies, or any combination of those. We discussed how sad it is that some children have no one to look after them, and we talked about how your family isn’t just the people you were born to but the people you choose and those who choose you. We talked about that at length—how special that makes things.
It’s unlikely all Daisy’s classmates come from generic backgrounds, but when I’d suggested how Uncle Raif would probably love to step in, the poor love sobbed and sobbed. The stigma of being parentless, I suppose. And that’s why I chose to sneak out the back door. I know what it is to feel different. To perceive you’re different. I know loss, and I know heartache, and yes, it’s all a part of life, but I just want to see that little girl smile. And spare Raif the sorrow of not being Daisy’s first choice today.
As I pull out my phone to call an Uber, I notice a black cab trundling toward me. If that’s not a sign that I’m doing the right thing, then I don’t know what is.