Four
Darkness creeps across the horizon like a spy as Kitty tiredly makes her way up to her floor, her head spinning from stacking shelves all day. She pauses outside her neighbours' door, steels herself, and knocks. Thomas opens it, and she looks away, determined not to meet his eyes.
He stands back and lets her in without a word.
"Where's Sylvie?"
"Just finishing The Lion King. Would you like a drink?"
"A glass of water would be great, thank you."
He disappears into the kitchen, and Kitty steps into their sitting room. Her daughter's dark hair sticks up from the sofa opposite the TV. Credits roll up and up the black screen. "Hello, sweetheart."
Sylvie's face appears over the back of the leather cushions. "Mummy!" she says, holding out her arms. Kitty laughs, and scoops her up and onto her hip.
"How was school?"
"Good," Sylvie nods. "We were singing, for the play, and I got to dress up in my costume."
"That's exciting," Kitty brushes a kiss to the top of Sylvie's head. "I'm really looking forward to seeing your play. How was coming home with Thomas and Miles?"
"Only Thomas picked me up," she rests her head against Kitty's shoulder. "I had a banana."
There's the sound of footsteps, then, and she turns to see Thomas standing awkwardly at her shoulder, a glass of water in his hand. "Here," he says.
"Thank you."
Sylvie begins to wriggle, and Kitty sets her on her feet. "Why don't you go and get your book-bag and coat?" she suggests.
"Okay." Sylvie disappears into the hallway in a muffled pattering of feet, and Kitty turns to Thomas.
"How was she?"
"Fine. Very chatty on the way home, and then was quite happy to sit and watch the film." He pinches the bridge of his nose as though he's in pain. "Miles says he's happy to mind her on weekends, if you like. Take her swimming and things."
"That would be great. Thank you so much for doing this."
"It's nothing."
They stand in a stiff, proper silence, Kitty still avoiding his eyes when Sylvie reappears. "Are you ready to go home, little monkey?"
"Yes."
"What do you say to Thomas?"
"Thank you," Sylvie says.
"See you tomorrow, Sylvie."
As they leave, she feels his gaze burning into her back, but she doesn't turn. She can't get herself into complications. Not now.
They settle into an odd routine. Kitty drops Sylvie off in the mornings before work, and picks her up after, takes her home where she sits and chatters like a blue-and-gold macaw as Kitty prepares dinner, and slowly, slowly, she lets her neighbours begin to chip away at her armour. If Sylvie is watching something, she'll wait in the kitchen with Thomas or Miles and a cup of tea, talk a little bit about work. It's amazing, listening to Thomas talk about what he does – his eyes light up and it's as though he's an illustration that has stepped off the page of a storybook and into real life.
Often, she has to stop him and get him to explain the words he uses without a second thought. He doesn't seem to mind, though often Miles has to jump in with an easier explanation.
December begins to dawn, and one day, Sylvie turns to her as they come into their own apartment. "Mummy…"
"Yes?"
"It's my birthday soon."
"I know."
"Can I have a party?"
"What sort of party?" Kitty hangs up her coat on the hook by the door and takes Sylvie's, the purple and pink mac sliding across her fingers.
"A princess party, because I want a princess dress for my birthday."
"I think we can manage that." Kitty smiles down at her daughter – in all honesty, she's been expecting a request like this, seeing as Sylvie's birthday present is already wrapped up and hidden away at the back of the wardrobe. "Shall I get a bit of paper and we can talk about it over dinner?"
"Yes," Sylvie says, following her through the door and climbing into her chair at the kitchen table. "Can we invite Thomas and Miles?"
"I think they might be too busy, but you can ask them if you like." Kitty washes her hands, the smooth soap gliding over the calluses that are forming from hefting crates around at the supermarket.
"Will you dress up too?"
"Of course I will. Do you want to write down who you want to come?"
He doesn't quite know what to say. Whenever his two sisters had princess parties when they were little, he'd always vacate the house or hide down at the park with one of his friends, only returning to scavenge leftovers when all of the guests had left at the end. But Sylvie stares up at him imploringly, and Miles has already agreed.
"Okay, then," he gives in, and Sylvie wraps her arms around his waist.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
He pries her off, trying not to smile.
"Do we have to dress up?" Miles asks.
Sylvie nods enthusiastically, and there is a mischievous gleam in Miles' eyes. Thomas groans. "I'm regretting agreeing to this now."
The morning of the party dawns bright and sunny, and Kitty is up with the gold-fingered dawn, baking in the kitchen. She used the discount she gets on the co-op food, and the bags of crisps and fruit are all in the cupboard. She made most of the sandwiches the night before, and now, the cake sits before her, a bare, plain sponge, surrounded by bowls of icing and sweets. The sketch is in front of her, long lines of charcoal forming the shape that she wants.
Classic FM fills the air softly, and she begins to sculpt the cake, praying that nothing will go wrong.
There is music playing through the open door, and pink balloons bobbing gently up and down outside Kitty's flat. Thomas adjusts his crown irritably. "I look ridiculous."
"No, you don't, you look perfectly dashing. You can take it off once you're inside."
"Good," he grumbles.
"Tom, cheer up. It's Sylvie's birthday."
"I know, I know."
"Just make an appearance. Then you can go and sulk."
"I am not sulking. I'm working."
"Work, sulk, what's the difference? Come on, we're going to be late."
Miles steps forward and knocks on the doorjamb. A door opens somewhere in the house, and then Sylvie is squealing down the hall towards them, a flounced, purple and gold princess dress bouncing out behind her. "Miles! Tom! Do you like my dress?"
"Hello, Sylvie," Miles says, crouching down to her level and handing her the wrapped present. "It's beautiful. Did Mum get it for you?"
"Yes," Sylvie grabs his hand and reaches out to take Thomas' too. "Julia's here, and Mathilde, and Caitlin and Poppy. Come on!"
She drags them happily into the sitting room, where several other little girls sporting dresses in different colours dance to the music blaring from an IPod docking station. Miles is immediately pulled into the middle of the circle, and Thomas stifles a laugh as Sylvie bosses him about.
The door the kitchen hangs slightly ajar, and as the strains of 'Let it Go' begin to play, he makes his escape, closing the door behind him. Kitty is standing at the sink, and he stops dead. She turns, freezes.
Gone are the faded jeans, carefully buttoned shirts; the look of professional 'mum' that she wears so well. A dark red dress, lace at the top, cascades to the floor in layers of fabric that float as she relaxes, takes a step towards him. A silver children's tiara glitters against her dark hair. "Hi."
"Hi." He pauses, trying to form a coherent thought in his head, trying to supress the urge to pull her close and kiss her senseless. "You look incredible."
She blushes. "Thank you. I like the crown."
He pulls it off, puts it on the side. "Miles."
"I guessed."
He folds his hands awkwardly behind his back. "Is there anything you need help with?"
She frowns, surveying the table that is set with pink plates and glasses, food spread out, foil platters piled high with sandwiches, and packets of crisps crinkling in their bowls. "I think that's everything. I was just going to start the party games. Where's Miles?"
"Sylvie kidnapped him."
"Okay. Well, do you want to control the music and I can play with the girls?"
"Okay." He manages a smile, and she reaches past him to open the door.
Three other girls have arrived, and he hastily beats a path to the chair by the IPod, settling into it and stopping the music. They work their way through musical bumps, musical statues and musical chairs, and he cannot take his eyes off Kitty, bright eyed and beaming in the red dress that swooshes to the floor as she laughs with the children that cluster around her.
Eventually, Kitty announces that dinner is ready, and there is stampede of glitter and crowns as the seven little girls crowd into the small kitchen, sitting at the table and snatching at the food, chattering away happily. He stands by the sink, glass of water in hand, watching as Miles pours out pink lemonade and Kitty hovers with a camera hanging around her neck, taking pictures of the girls smiling.
When there's only fifteen minutes left of the party, she comes over to him. "Do you mind turning out the lights?"
He nods, and then she's gone and the room is dark, only lit by candles that Sylvie blows out enthusiastically. He switches the lights back on, and Sylvie is cooing over her cake, a round, pink carriage with swirling white wheels and a mouse coachman.
"Where did you get it?" Miles asks, curiously.
"I made it," Kitty says.
"You made it?"
Two spots of embarrassment burn high on her cheeks. "I like doing that sort of thing."
"Kitty, it's amazing! You could set up a business in cake-decorating!"
"Thank you," she bites her lip, turns away to pick up the cake and bring it over to the side where a knife lies, its sharp edge glinting in the light flickering from the bulb overhead. The doorbell rings, then, and she turns to Thomas. "Will you get that please?"
He nods, and pads down the hallway, draws back the bolt and opens the door. A stern-faced, blonde woman waits there – a stern-faced blonde woman that he recognises all too well. "Hello, Matron Singh."
"Dr Gillan, what are you doing here?" she asks, confusion furrowing lines into her forehead.
"I live next door, babysit Sylvie sometimes. She invited me and my flatmate to help her mum."
"Okay," she says, and he shuts the door behind her, leading the way into the kitchen where Kitty is carefully cutting up the cake. At the sound of their footsteps, she turns, her dress rustling.
"Grace," she says, managing a smile. "Always on time."
Matron Singh crosses the room to her side. "This is a wonderful cake – wherever did you learn how to decorate like that?"
Kitty flushes again. "I just taught myself, I guess."
Matron Singh shakes her head. "Julia's cakes always turn out a little on the sloppy side – my husband and I have never quite got the hang of it."
"I could maybe do one for Julia's birthday? It's at the end of January, isn't it?"
"Would you? I'd pay for the ingredients and things."
"Of course. She's in the other room if you want to go and fetch her."
"I'll go," Thomas says, and Kitty smiles brightly, directly at him, before turning back to Matron Singh. Why can't he control his feelings?
Why?
A/N Well, hello again. Another update. What do you think of Grace being Grace Singh in this story? And Sylvie's princess party? I'm putting a photoset on my blog to show my inspiration for this chapter, so feel free to look at it over on Tumblr. I'd love, love, love to hear from you all - next update is Wednesday morning! N xxx