Page 194 of Unspoken Words
She’ll stop Sugar McCoffee Head.
“How ‘bout that?” I asked Christina. “Do you like Mummy’s song?”
My baby girl squealed again, and this time, she smiled just like her mother: twinkly eyes and plush cheeks.
Hopping off my stool, I squatted down and picked her up, sitting her on my hip and lightly supporting her neck. She wasn’t quite at that milestone yet, but she was getting there.
I guess we both were.
As each day went by, Ellie’s absence grew thick and, yet, her presence was almost palpable. At night, when the house was silent, I was certain I could hear her breathing, a soft lullaby that helped me drift to sleep. I felt her when the breeze blew the leaves on the trees, when the sun broke through the clouds, and when a rainbow arced into the sky. Every time I saw a bow, a stick, pizza, and Madonna, she was right there beside me.
Ellie was everywhere, and I knew she always would be.
*
Six months on,I steppedonto the tour bus and was pleasantly surprised by its space and lavish fittings. There were two tables flanked by black velvet seats together with a kitchenette and television, and past that was a door that led to a bunked sleeping area and a bathroom. At the rear of the bus would be my room, which had a single bed and a cot.
“Wow! It’s a hell of a lot bigger than I thought it would be,” I said to Jackson, who was following my guided steps through the vehicle.
“Not bad, eh?” He flexed his brows, boasting a rather satisfied grin. “So, are you in?”
The bus, suitable for an eight-month-old baby, was supposed to be the icing on a nationwide tour cake worth several million dollars, but I’d been hesitant to accept the offer. Christina was still so small, and it meant I would be away from Max for weeks on end.
But I’d made a promise to Ellie to resume the tour I’d started nearly a year ago. Except, the support act tour I’d postponed was now a tour of my own. ‘Ever After’, my debut album, had gone platinum in the year since its release, selling in excess of a million copies worldwide. Saxon Reed was hot property, and focussing on him and my music was the perfect remedy to help me move forward.
“Yeah, all right. I’m in.”
“Excellent!” Jackson slapped my back. “We’ll make this work. You have my word.” He flicked through the paperwork on his clipboard and tapped a particular page. “One other thing …”
I raised an eyebrow in anticipation.
“I need you to approve the tour nanny.”
“The tour what?”
“Tour nanny, to assist you with Christina.”
I chuckled. “I don’t need assistance.”
“You will. You can’t take her on stage, mate.”
Uncertainty twisted my stomach. “I know that.”
“Good. Then you’ll also know that someone will need to care for her when you’re occupied.”
“I do. I just assumed it would be you.”
“ME?”
“Yeah. You’re great with her.”
Jackson laughed dismissively and pushed the door-open button on the microwave before peeking inside and closing it again. “Maybe for a quick hug and hello. Beyond that, my experience with babies is about as extensive as it is with baboons.”
I took a seat on the lounge that lined the left side of the bus and moved the curtain aside to look out the window at the car park at Sony Records. “I don’t know, mate. I don’t like the idea of a stranger taking care of my girl.”
“She comes highly recommended, and if you meet her and spend some time with her before we leave, she won’t be a stranger.”
Letting go of the curtain, I ran my hands through my hair and rested them there.
