Page 75 of Take Me Away

I straighten, sober my face. Look up at Kit and Maisie to find them both watching me with their mouths open. ‘Sorry, I haven’t laughed like that in ages.’

Kit’s eyebrows rise into arches. ‘And what was funny?’

My face still feels damp. I swipe at it, relishing how freeing it feels not to worry about smearing makeup and mascara. ‘It’s silly.’

‘I like silly,’ Maisie assures me.

‘You are silly,’ Kit fires back, knocking her softly on the shoulder.

They both turn their expectant gazes to me.

‘I was working with a famous actor. Very famous.’ I pause, trying to quell a fresh build-up of giggles. ‘And he had to kiss me, and the director was shouting out, on loudspeaker, “Why does it look like Isla is kissing a cold fish?”, and since then, every time someone says, “cold fish”, I just imagine, well, a carp about to be hooked and reeled in.’ I open and close my mouth like a fish. It’s silly and stupid.

‘How famous?’ Kit asks, gaze indecipherable.

I raise my eyebrows. ‘Very.’

He shrugs and scoops up some peas, shovelling them in, chewing as he watches me.

I take a bite and can’t hold back a groan of appreciation. ‘These are good.’

‘Garlicky, right,’ Maisie says around a mouthful.

‘Don’t talk with your mouth full.’ Kit waves his fork at her and I hide my grin behind a forkful of, yes, very garlicky mashed peas.

Our eyes meet across the table. For a moment, I glimpse an alternate reality – one where I stayed, where this is our kitchen, our child, our life together.

The thought sits in my chest like a warm stone, heavy but not unpleasant.

‘I like your house,’ I say, desperate to break the moment. ‘It’s lovely.’

‘Dad did most of it,’ Maisie volunteers. ‘The floors and the painting and the fireplace. Mum picked the colours, though. She liked blue.’

I glance at Kit. His expression gives nothing away as he butters his toast.

‘Blue is a good choice,’ I say finally. ‘It’s calming.’

‘That’s what Mum said too.’ Maisie seems pleased by the agreement. ‘Dad wanted everything white but Mum said that was boring.’

‘Your mum was right,’ I tell her, earning a mock-offended look from Kit.

‘White is classic,’ he defends himself. ‘Timeless.’

‘Boring,’ I echo, grinning when he narrows his eyes at me. ‘Is that why your bedroom is white?’

Maisie nibbles on her lip, gaze dropping down to the table for a moment. ‘No, he did that after Mum died. It was pink before.’

My throat is suddenly thick.

‘Maisie,’ Kit interrupts, ‘didn’t you want to get your shell collection ready to show Isla?’

‘Oh yeah!’ She jumps up from her half-eaten dinner. ‘I’ll be right back.’

She thunders up the stairs, leaving a sudden silence in her wake.

I take a sip of tea, hyperaware of Kit across the table, of the weight of his gaze on me.

‘She’s wonderful,’ I tell him honestly. ‘You’ve done an amazing job with her, Kit.’