The bed is empty when he wakes. The clock blinking above the stove reads a little after six. Rain drips against the window pane. There is nothing to be concerned about; she's always been an early riser.
The click of the door rouses him from a doze a little time later. Eyes closed, he listens to her kick off her shoes, hears the harsh sounds of her breath.
"You alright, Bo?"
"Just-" she gasps. "More out of shape then I thought. I haven't run in a while -" gasp "-won't leave Winnie alone."
"I don't like the sound of that." he half rises, but she waves a hand and keeps breathing, leaning back in the chair. The gasps fade after a few minutes, and she continues exercising. It's a routine he's familiar with: sit-ups, push-ups, obliques, stretching.
"Didn't get enough of a workout last night then?" He asks.
"Just cause you're the type of bludger to lie in bed all morning-!"
It's all so normal, the sounds of her getting ready. He listens to her singing off-key in the shower, listens to the hairdryer.
"You need in?" she appears wrapped in a towel. The air that wafts out from behind her smells like coconut. That's what she's always smelled of: coconut and Shea butter.
"Yeah, thanks."
Winnie's awake when he emerges, searching for the iron. Her small legs kick at the chair as she shovels corn flakes into her mouth.
"Over in the closet," Wally directs, head between her knees, fingers working the braids the cornrows up towards her crown. "D'you want me to get it?"
"I can iron my own shirt!"
"Debatable. Winnie, say good morning to Robert."
Through a bite of cornflakes, she mumbles something that could be 'morning Robert,' but he's not exactly sure.
"All there is is cornflakes if you want something to eat."
"I'm good thanks. Don't eat breakfast."
"Yeah, I know, just thought I'd offer." she secures the last braid with a translucent band and sits up. "What?" he's grinning broadly, looking at her.
"Your hair."
She secures the loose top and braid-ends into a bun. "Fuck-off."
"Don't talk like your mum, Winnie," he warns. "No matter how nice she looks." The little girl turns to look at him, eyes widened with slight confusion.
"Shut-up, I look how I do everyday."
He shrugs, concentrating on a crease in the yoke. "You look nice everyday."
She's wearing the red-checked button-down that matches the red flush of her cheeks as she glances away.
"So, what are you reading today, then?" he jerks his head at the bookshelf.
"I dunno." she saunters over.
"Maybe this one?" the cheeky look on his face tells her what it is before he hands it to her.
"Fuck you!"
"I do believe that's the offer I wrote on the inside. Can't believe you still have that."
"Notice I do keep it hidden on the top shelf, away from most prying eyes."
"If I were you, I'd keep it in the underwear drawer." he laughs as she tries to snatch it back. "Mine now."
She gives him a solid 'thwack' with the book she had come over for: Kings and Caliphs: Islam's Presence in the Western World. It had the same 50 cent sticker of all her books, bought in a box from an estate sale.
Wally hasn't always read; she was a mediocre student, apathetic with no external drive from teachers or her parents. Once she was laid up from kitesurfing for two months, however, there wasn't much that could be done but hold a book between her knees and read. Anything really: histories, science, biographies, fiction. The words fill her head in a way she likes, and once there, they never leave.
"Come on, Win, ready to go? I'll see you at the hospital, yeah?"
He kisses her on the cheek as he secures his tie. "You want me to take her? It's still raining out."
"You sure?"
"Not if she doesn't mind."
They both turn to look at her. "Win, you want to go with Robert in the car?"
"Yes!" Winnie's face brightens, more for the fact that she won't have to ride on the bike than that she's taken a liking to Robert. She's an odd thing, all locked up inside her own head with her rag doll. Her inquisitive nature is a near silent one, giving her an almost permanently confused look as questions run past the inside of her eyes, trapped in by a silence that makes her seem hostile towards anyone but Wally. But she does like her mummy's friend: he talks like them.
"Alright then. I'd be honored."
"Thanks a mil, Robert." She shrugs on the leather jacket.
"Least I can do. That always looked better on you."
She smiles, hand on the doorknob. "Of course it does. That's why I took it."
"Happy Monday," Cameron says sardonically as Harding pushes through the door, shrugging off the jacket. She's sitting at the desk, answering emails.
"Joy, joy, joy."
"What did you do this weekend?"
"Not much. Read, took my kid to the museum."
"You have a kid?" Cameron's surprised.
"Yeah, a three year old."
"Boy or girl?"
"Girl. Winnie."
"Aw, that's sweet."
"Yeah, sometimes. Other times she's a right brat."
Cameron snorts. The clicking of keys continues for several seconds. "I always wanted kids, but my husband died before we could have any."
Death is one thing Harding has no trouble conjuring sympathy for. "I'm so sorry."
She sighs. "It is what it is."
"It's what we say to make ourselves feel better, right? I wish it were that easy."
"Did…" Cameron tries to form her question so as not to be insensitive. "Did Winnie's father...?"
"No, but my siblings. All four of them."
"Oh god. Was there an accident or-?"
"Suicide, drugs, anorexia, accident." she shrugs, brushing away the thought and the subject. "It is what it is. What d'you do this weekend, then?"
They're having a fairly animated chat about favored work-out routines when Chase enters.
"There ya go then." he tosses a white paper bag to Harding.
"Ta?"
"You sound confused."
She glances inside. "You're gonna spoil her. I feed her cornflakes for a reason."
Chase snorts. "That girl who works the front desk there-"
"Is the biggest fucking drongo, I know." She pulls the bear-claw from the bag and pulls off a piece. "She asked me the other day if an allergic reaction was contagious."
"Who's this?" Cameron asks.
"The receptionist at Winnie's daycare. She's, like, the owner's daughter or something, but is just such an airhead. I'd almost feel bad for her if she weren't so daggy."
"Fuckin' aye." Chase nods in agreement as he leans over the table and rips off a bit of the bear-claw, evoking an 'oi!' from Harding.
Cameron chuckles, pushing away from the computer. "The Australian in this room is just a little too high for me. Chase, you have clinic duty."
"Fuck." he checks his watch. "Yeah. See you all."
"Hey!" he turns, still half backing from the room. "Thanks."
"No prob, Bo. Probably owe you that one."
She snorts. "Shut-up and go help some sick people, ya bastard."