Page 24 of Love Is: Two Bodies One Soul

ChapterEight

Owenalways liked Sundays in the park, but today was exceptional. The air, coldly crisp, had a haze of blue. The mist rising from the lake looked magical. He smiled, thinking how quickly a mood could change. From suicidal on Friday to heart-bursting happiness at being alive two days later and all because he would see Emi any moment — his Emi. Impatiently checking the time, he silently thanked the Halcyons.

Bang on time, his thoughts were interrupted by a delighted squeal.

‘Daddy!’

There she was, his Emi! Her almost black curls bobbing, sparkling dark blue eyes full of joy. Emi. His daughter, Emily Kingsley. The only person he’d dared to love since his grandpa died. Emi, running towards him, followed by a super-chic blonde woman in an expensive designer suit. Margaret.

‘Daddy,’ Emily squealed again, launching herself trustingly in his direction. He stooped, arms outstretched and scooped her up.

‘Emi, my love,’ he sighed, his heart melting, laughter bubbling. Blinking at his daughter, Owen lifted her high, breathing in her baby girl smell, clean and sweet, a glorious mix of Pears soap and marshmallow. She laughed down at him, full of life and love. The joyful energy in her tiny four-year-old body filled him with the will to live forever. To be there always, for Emi.

‘Emi, my Emi,’ he murmured, hugging her close, absorbing her warmth. A surge of pure, innocent passion filled him to the brim, and he promised himself he would never forget what true love felt like.

‘Thank you.’ He mimed over Emi’s shoulder at Margaret. She returned his thanks with a scowl, not needing to speak for him to know she was fuming. Did she know she’d been tricked?

‘Can we go see the pecilans, Daddy?’ Tiny soft fingers touched his face, treating him like play dough, pushing his mouth into a pucker.

‘Pelicans,’ he corrected through pursed lips before stealing a quick kiss on one of Emi’s fingertips and adding, ‘Yes, of course, we can.’ He turned to Margaret. ‘Will you come too?’

She shook her head, thinning her precisely painted dark red mouth in distaste. ‘I’ll go to the shops. I need a few things.’ Pausing, she eyed him carefully, no doubt checking he was sober.

Emi was exploring his face again. ‘Daddy, your skin is prickly,’ she said.

‘I know, cariad. My razor’s blunt.’

‘Mummy could get you a new one when she’s at the shop, if you like.’

‘Maybe,’ Owen said, suppressing a laugh. The very thought of Margaret buying him anything at all, even something as cheap as a disposable razor, was hilarious.

Showing her irritation with a small bout of foot tapping, Margaret interrupted, ‘One hour, Owen. No more. I’ll be back in sixty minutes to collect Emily. Don’t be late.’ She turned to leave, then over her shoulder, she added, ‘And I’ll be calling my solicitor first thing in the morning about this latest trick you’ve played. Don’t go making any long-term plans.’

Oblivious of her mother and smiling happily at him, Emi explored Owen’s hair, her tiny fingers tickling his scalp.

‘You got curly hair, Daddy, just like mine.’

‘I know, sweetheart.’ Owen watched Margaret walking away towards Green Park. It seemed she had her suspicions, but he didn’t care for the moment. He had his daughter for an hour. Precious time. That thought warmed him through to the bone. If there was Emi, nothing else mattered. Tomorrow he would contact the family law expert Henry had recommended. It was time to do battle for his daughter. No matter what the cost. Possibly if he pulled himself together, cut down on the drinking, earned some decent money, then one day, he might even try for custody. His heart leapt at this new, impossible idea.

‘Come on, Emi,’ he said, turning his face to his daughter. ‘Let’s go see the birds.’

* * *

At Meadow Bank,Lexie sped into her parent’s driveway, disturbing the pristine gravel and enjoying the crunch her VW’s tyres made as she braked hard. She wouldn’t be surprised to learn her father had been raking the drive at first light, even on his wedding anniversary. She grabbed the bouquet of chrysanthemums from the passenger seat and, not bothering to fasten her coat against the frost, she hurried to the house.

‘Mum?’

‘She’s in the kitchen,’ Doctor Scott shouted from the sitting room.

‘Thanks.’ Lexie shrugged out of her coat and hung it on a peg just inside the door, adding, ‘Happy anniversary, Dad.’

‘Thank you.’

She found her mother beating the living daylights out of some eggs. Not a good sign. Elizabeth Scott, a gentle person, only ever inflicted culinary violence when angry with her husband. Something had gone wrong on their anniversary day.

‘Hi, Mum. Happy anniversary.’

‘Thank you, darling.’ Elizabeth looked up, appearing vaguely surprised to find her daughter standing in the kitchen doorway. She asked, ‘Xander not with you?’ casting a hopeful glance over Lexie’s shoulder.

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