26. Louise

I sat on the floor beside Clara’s bed and waited. She sobbed her heart out, her breathing ragged as she tapped her fingers together over and over again.

I knew saying anything or trying to touch her would only make it worse. I was an expert on meltdowns. The room had to be quiet, the lighting low, and I had to stay still and silent until she’d worn herself out.

I wondered for the millionth time if introducing her to Marco was the right thing to do. When I’d first told her, she’d seemed happy. She’d been fine until now. They’d had a good few short conversations on FaceTime – I’d kept them to five minutes. They’d also texted a bit and Clara seemed to be connecting well with him, but I knew it was too good to be true. It was a big deal and a breakdown had to come. Marco was arriving tomorrow and, suddenly, the reality of it all was overwhelming her.

After about fifteen minutes her sobs began to subside. She hiccuped and her fingers stopped tapping. I stood up and looked down at her red, swollen eyes.

‘Will I get you some water?’ I asked gently.

She nodded.

I came back with a glass and some Calpol. ‘Do you have a bad headache?’

‘Really bad, Mummy.’

‘Okay, sweetheart, have a spoonful of this. It’ll help.’

Clara took the medicine and lay down again, rubbing the corner of her blanket between her fingers. She’d need a long sleep to recuperate from the meltdown. They always left her exhausted, physically and mentally.

‘You know that you don’t have to meet Marco tomorrow. We can put it off for a while if you want or for ever. You only do what you want to do. Okay?’

She nodded. ‘I do want to see him. I just want him to like me. What if he thinks I’m weird or a freak, like the kids in school do?’

I tried not to cry. How dare those little shits make my beautiful angel feel insecure?

‘Marco will fall in love with you the way we all have. He already thinks you’re wonderful after your chats on FaceTime. I’ve told him all about you and how amazing you are, and Julie, Sophie and Granddad told him how fantastic you are too.’

My daughter’s pale face gazed up at me. ‘Do you really think he’ll like me?’

‘I one hundred million per cent know he will.’

Clara frowned. ‘It’s one hundred per cent, Mummy, not one hundred million per cent.’

I smiled down at her. ‘Yes, you clever girl, it is.’

‘I think it’s good that we’ve learned some Italian too.’

‘It is, and Marco’s English has improved a lot. He’s making a huge effort for you.’

‘I’m scared he’ll meet me and not want to be my daddy.’

I took a risk and held her hand. She didn’t pull away.

‘Clara, Marco is over the moon to know he has you as a daughter. He will adore you because you are the most incredible girl in the world.’

She began to fidget. I needed to keep her calm and for her to sleep. Knowing exactly what was going to happen always helped calm her down.

‘For now, you need to have a big sleep. Tomorrow I’ll wake you up at nine. We’ll have breakfast. Then we’ll go for a short walk to the bakery and buy some scones and be back home by ten thirty. We’ll set the table and fill the kettle and switch on the coffee machine. Marco will arrive at eleven and we’ll have tea and coffee and scones in the kitchen and then, if you want, you can show him your bedroom and we can have a chat or watch a movie, or you can read your bird book to him, or play music … whatever you feel like doing. Okay?’

She nodded. ‘Does he like plain scones or fruit ones or the ones with berries in them?’

‘Plain,’ I lied. I had no idea, but Clara needed firm answers.

‘Like me. Then we’ll get two plain scones and a berry one for you.’

‘Yes, pet.’

‘And we can use the white plates and the blue napkins because they’re my favourite. And I want Marco to have the orange mug that says “Smile”, and I’ll have the blue mug that says “Best Daughter” and you’ll have the yellow mug that says “World’s Best Mum”.’

I smiled. ‘Yes, darling, that’s a good idea.’

Clara’s hands relaxed and her eyelids began to droop. She was ready for sleep.

‘You go to sleep now. Will I turn the lights down lower or do you want them as they are?’

‘Lower, please.’

I leaned over and kissed her forehead. ‘I love you, Clara, and I don’t want you to worry about anything. We’ll only ever do what you want to do. Sleep well, my love.’

She rolled over and closed her eyes. As I gently pulled the door three-quarters closed, the way she liked it, I heard her whisper, ‘I love you, Mummy, and I hope I love Marco too.’

Clara stared out of the window as I watched the clock. I’d told Marco he had to be on time. Not one minute late.

At exactly eleven o’clock I heard Clara shout, ‘He’s here.’

‘Are you ready?’

She nodded.

‘Okay then. Let’s open the door.’

My heart was thumping and I felt as if I might pass out. This was such a huge moment in Clara’s life. Please, God, may it go well.

Clara followed me out to the front door, holding Luna to her chest as a shield. As I opened the door, Clara moved behind me.

Marco stood at the door, as I had told him to, not rushing in, not making a fuss and not going directly to Clara.

‘Hello, Louisa,’ he said calmly, although the flowers in his hands were shaking. Then, without looking at Clara directly, as instructed, he said, ‘I am Marco. I am so, so happy to meet you, Clara, and also leetle Luna.’

I took the flowers from his hands and stood back, so he could see his daughter properly. Clara stared down at Luna and petted her.

Silence. Marco looked to me for direction. I indicated that he stay still.

Then, Clara quietly said, ‘ Buongiorno , Marco, and Luna says hello too.’

Marco’s voice dripped with emotion: ‘ Buongiorno, bellissima Clara and bellissima Luna.’

Clara turned and said over her shoulder, ‘Come into the kitchen. We have scones.’

Marco looked at me. ‘Is okay?’

‘Yes, you’re doing well. Keep really calm and don’t reach out. Let her come to you.’

‘I want to hold her so much.’ His eyes filled with tears.

‘I know, but you mustn’t. Take a deep breath. You have to be calm.’

He exhaled. ‘I understand.’

We followed Clara into the kitchen. She put Luna down and busied herself placing scones on our plates and telling Marco where to sit, which mug to use.

Marco petted Luna and sat down.

‘Do you like cats?’ Clara asked.

‘I love cats. I have four in my farm.’

‘On my farm,’ Clara corrected him. ‘What are their names?’

‘Rivera, Rossi, Zoff and Baggio. All Italian football players.’

‘Are the cats all boys?’

‘No, two boys and two girls.’

‘Then why did you give the girl cats boys’ names?’

‘The names are not the first name. The names are the second name. Like I am Marco Romano. You are Clara Devlin. I call my cat Devlin if a boy or a girl. No?’

‘Oh,’ Clara said, finally looking at Marco directly. ‘I see. They’re surnames.’

‘Yes, surname.’ Marco smiled. ‘My English is not so good.’

‘ Tuo inglese è buono ,’ Clara encouraged him.

‘ Grazie .’ Marco beamed. ‘You are very clever girl already speaking Italian. You are intelligent like your mother.’

‘Yes, Mummy is very clever. Are you clever? Did you get top marks in school?’

Marco laughed. ‘Not clever in school. Marco bad in school but good with the nature. I growing beautiful olives.’

‘I hate olives,’ Clara told him.

Marco shrugged. ‘You have not tasted Marco’s olives. I think you will like.’

Clara sighed. ‘No, I won’t. I hate the taste. It makes me want to vomit.’

Thankfully, I had warned Marco about Clara’s lack of filter. He was unfazed.

‘Do you like dogs?’ he asked.

‘Only small ones. Only quiet ones. I hate dogs that jump on you or bark loudly.’

There was a pause in conversation. I tried to think of something neutral to say. I didn’t get the chance.

‘Do you want to be my daddy?’ Clara blurted out.

My hand flew up to my mouth.

Marco’s eyes welled up. ‘I want to be your daddy verrrrrry much.’

Clara fiddled with her napkin. ‘I’m not like other kids. I’m different.’

‘I like different.’

‘Some people think I’m weird.’

‘What is weird?’

‘It’s, like, strange.’

‘I like strange. Normal is boring. Strange is good. Marco is also strange. Peoples think I am strange because I live with my mother. I love my mother and I love my olives so I am happy. I do what makes me happy.’

‘I don’t think it’s strange that you live with your mother. I live with my mummy and I want to live with her for ever.’

Marco smiled. ‘See? We the same.’

‘Well, we have one thing in common.’ Clara was going to make Marco work for her love and I was proud of her.

I was watching her carefully and she was calm. Marco was handling this first meeting really well. He had kept his emotions in check and allowed Clara to lead the conversation.

‘We have the same nose. I can really see it now you’re here in front of me. Granny always used to say I had a beautiful nose,’ Clara said.

‘Your granny was right. It is beautiful nose. Marco has no hair so it’s good that Romano nose is beautiful.’ He grinned.

‘I have Mummy’s eyes.’

‘Yes, beautiful blue eyes. You are bella, bella .’ Marco blew her a kiss. ‘You will have every Italian boy wanting marry you.’

Clara looked horrified. ‘I’m never marrying anyone. I’m staying with Mummy and Luna.’

Marco looked panic-stricken at having said the wrong thing. He needed a bit of help. ‘Marco is only trying to say how beautiful you are. You don’t have to marry anyone, pet. That’s your choice.’

‘Marco not marry any more and Louisa not marry anyone so Clara not marry anyone. We all not married and happy. Okay?’ He was trying desperately to smooth things over.

Clara’s eyes widened. ‘I’m glad you’re not married. I don’t want a stepmother or a stepfather.’

‘Just Mummy and also maybe Daddy, yes?’

Clara nodded slowly, and then she stood up. I thought she might leave and take some quiet time out for herself, but then she said, ‘Marco, would you like to see my bedroom?’

I had told Marco that if Clara allowed him into her bedroom he had won her over. It was her sacred sanctuary and not many people were allowed in.

Marco’s hand went to his chest. ‘It would be an honour,’ he said, his voice cracking at the significance of this moment.

I laid my hand on his arm. ‘ Calma ,’ I whispered.

He knew what he had to do. To be fair, he was playing a blinder. I watched as my little girl led the way, followed by her father, a man she had only just met. It was a wonderful start, but a small part of me broke. Clara had always been mine, all mine. Now it looked like I was going to have to share her with Marco. I wasn’t sure how ready I was to do that. I knew she deserved to have her father in her life, but she was my everything. Was this what parenting was – sacrificing your happiness for theirs?