Page 9 of A Castle in the Sky: Fern & Connor
He pulled out a sleeveless dress—soft cotton; pale yellow with tiny flowers. His throat felt like a giant hand held him in a chokehold. It would be easier for her to get her arm through, he thought, and the bandages wouldn't snag. He swallowed hard and folded it carefully, tucking it into the bag, along with underwear and a couple of loose dresses. Then, her favourite pyjamas and blanket. Her drawing supplies and Oggie the bear. At the last minute, he grabbed the drawing and folded it carefully before tucking it into his pocket.
Next, he went to their bedroom and hesitated outside the door. Fern's side of the wardrobe was half open, clothes hanging neatly, her perfume still lingering in the air. He grabbed one of her jumpers, then leggings, a change of underwear, then stopped and pressed his palm to his face.
He wanted to see her. To tell her.
He could still fix this if he could just explain why he'd gone back to help Matilda, why he couldn't say no to his mother, why guilt had ruled every decision since the day they'd come back to Whitley Bay. And even before that.
But the truth was ugly, and he was a coward. He wanted Fern to keep looking at him like he was worth something.
He had chosen silence over honesty, his comfort over the inevitable confrontation. And now it may have cost him the two people who were the shining stars in his sky. He was the architect of his own destruction.
Connor zipped the bag and slung it over his shoulder.
He needed to talk to the doctor, to find out how bad Coral's burns really were. He needed to see his daughter awake, to tell her he was sorry, even if she wouldn't look at him. Coral understood more than she let on, though she preferred not to speak unless she had to.
And Fern…
He swallowed the thought before it could finish. She was leaving. This was not the first time she had screamed those words at him, but this time she meant it. She had said it, and this time, he believed her.
He locked the door behind him and drove back to the hospital, the rising sun glaring off the windscreen, the world around him carrying on though his world had turned upside down.
The call came just as he turned onto High Street. A woman's voice spoke in his ear. "Mr. Ashbourne? This is Ms. Renshaw from children's services. Your wife gave me your number. I need to meet with you as soon as possible."
His heart jolted. "Is Coral all right?"
"She's stable, as far as I am aware," the professional voice said. "We just need to talk through the safeguarding assessment."
He pressed his foot to the pedal.
***
Ms. Renshaw met him in one of the family consultation rooms. A woman in her fifties, she was tall, almost his height, with her pepper hair pulled into a tidy plait. Her posture that could have belonged to a magistrate. Her eyes were a clear grey, and the calm way she watched him made him feel like he was twelve again.
Connor tried to speak first, his words tumbling over each other. "Please—whatever you need. I'll do anything. I just need to see my daughter."
She nodded but didn't soften. "I understand you're distressed. For now, I need to confirm a few details before that happens. Would you mind if I take notes?"
She walked him through each stage of the child protection assessment: how Coral had been injured, who was responsible for her care at the time, whether he and Fern were living together. Every question burned like a brand, like she was dissecting his entire life.
Connor's hands shook where he had clasped them on his lap where she couldn’t see. He told the truth about Matilda's call, about his mother agreeing to collect Coral, about how everything had flipped while he'd been at the rugby match. His voice shook halfway through.
Ms. Renshaw's expression didn't change, but she pushed a box of tissues across the table as she watched his eyes glaze with tears. "I can see that you love your daughter and these assessments are designed to make sure Coral is safe. We are here to help you, not separate youfrom your child. But you must know the person who needs protection the most is Coraline. You cooperating helps that. The hospital's paediatric team will liaise with us, and you'll both receive a written plan."
He nodded, wiping his face. "Can I see her now?"
"Once we've spoken with Mrs. Ashbourne and the medical staff," she said gently. "We're not here to punish you, Mr. Ashbourne, but Coraline has had a serious injury which may require a prolonged stay at the hospital, possibly even surgery. We have to be sure this won't happen again."
He nodded again, though the words lodged somewhere in his chest.
At her request, he had agreed to drive her to his mother's place. Kayla opened the door, her smile already in place.
“Oh—Connor, I was just—”
The wide smile faltered.
Her eyes flicked past him.
“…And who is this?" she asked.
