Breakfast In Bed (Fully English Sequel)

Chapter 16

To my surprise, social services don't come storming in to take my daughter. My leaving Wren becomes Reece and I's little secret that hangs over me like a coconut from a low branch, wet with rain. Every once in a while, a reminder will drip onto me in the form of a look or warning gesture. When our arguments reach full capacity, Reece will leave me drenched with fear and sweating from my own orifices – nose, skin and every pit – fearing disclosure of my crazy ways. Even my eyes would begin dripping though I was never sure whether they were tears.

Lying in bed fatigued, it's been months since the incident and I am struggling to sleep. Not because of nightmares but rather a general restlessness. Today is different though, I manage to sleep through the night. Both Wren and I in fact. Ever since she'd begun teething two months ago, she'd awake at two to three hour intervals screaming her little head off. This occasion was fortunately different. Sun high in the sky, my eyes don't peek open until an hour before midday and I realise that I've slept a full stretch of eleven hours.

Swinging my body from the bed and walking up to Wren to check on her, I see she is sound asleep. I smile victoriously and bow down to get a better look at her. She looks fresh... washed even. I scowl with confusion, touch her skin with the back of my hand and feel she is warm with heat, skin supple with moisture, warm with internal heat.

I turn around and see her bath bag is where it usually is – on the cupboard. But next to it is something I don't expect to see: an empty bottle of still frothy on the inside with milk. Puzzlement unhinges my smile. It didn't make sense: Wren was still suckling from my breast, I hadn't even attempted to start weaning yet. The occasions where I'd pumped had been few and far between and I hadn't attempted so in the past few months.

I look at my phone accusingly and switch it on to see over a dozen missed calls from Reece – from 7am onwards to just over an hour ago. Clearly he wanted to get an urgent hold of me.

I tentatively give him a ring back and remember mid-way that he told me not to ring his mobile for emergencies – shoot him a text first – new boundary. If he didn't get back to me within five minutes, I was to call his office number and ask for him.

As per instruction, I count down the agreed five minutes with my eyes and lips patiently for a response. Thirty seconds past the third minute my phone lights up with a call from his number and I answer it with caution. Even though I've accepted the call I don't get the opportunity to speak because his voice fills the room first on speakerphone.

"How is Wren?"

She stirs as if she can hear her name.

I return to where I stood above my daughter's cot and take another look.

"She's fine, she's asleep."

"Oh thank God," he expels with relief. I imagine his hand deflating with his chest as he says it.

"Why do you sound so relieved?"

"She was crying all night."

I scoff. "Was she?"

My sleep was smooth and uninterrupted – the most seamless I'd had in a while. I even still felt heavy from the fatigue still in my bones. Every muscle I moved felt like lugging a heavy suitcase with no wheels.

"Yes, she cried through the night, right up until dawn."

"No she couldn't have," I deny and look at the clock.

"She did."

"I would have woken up," I insist.

"Well you didn't," he tells me. "I did. I held her, soothed her, bopped her, washed her, changed her and fed her, everything... anything to stop her crying."