The Reunion

comfort, words of love. She kissed her head and her face, she talked about the first time they met, the camping trip to Saint-Malo, the summer they went to Ibiza and Nat lost her bikini bottoms in the sea. Lilah laughed. And eventually, Lilah slept.
    Jen went downstairs. Dan had fallen asleep on the sofa, Isabelle on his chest. It was just after four in the morning, a tinge of grey just starting to seep from the horizon into the inky black sky. The room was cold; they hadn’t had a fire yet, but Jen felt it wouldn’t be long now until they needed one. Wouldn’t be long now. She wanted to take the baby, to lift her into her arms and hold her sweet, soft warmth against her chest, but she didn’t want to wake her, so instead she sat in the armchair watching them sleep, holding a blanket over her mouth so they wouldn’t hear her sob.
    Isabelle stirred a little before five. Jen lifted her gently away from Dan’s body, but the withdrawal of her warmth woke him straight away.
    ‘Is she…?’
    ‘Still sleeping. I think. She was an hour ago. I haven’t been up since.’
    He went upstairs while Jen fed the baby, came down after a few minutes.
    ‘Still sleeping,’ he said with a nod. ‘Can I make you a tea?’ he asked her.
    Jen shook her head and held her hand out to him. He knelt down at her side.
    ‘I didn’t thank you. For looking after her yesterday while we were at the beach.’
    ‘You didn’t need to,’ he said. ‘I would look after her every day if I had the chance.’
    ‘Is that really what you want?’ Jen asked him. ‘Another man’s child?’
    Dan sat back on his heels, he gave a little sigh. ‘But she isn’t. She isn’t another man’s child. She’s your child.’ He got to his feet. ‘Sure you don’t want tea?’ She shook her head.
    ‘I do love you, you know,’ she said softly as he walked to the kitchen, but he didn’t turn around.
    Dan rang Zac at half past five, but the phone went straight to voicemail.
    Lilah was a little better when she woke just after six. She sat up in bed and asked for water. She asked if she could see Isabelle, so Jen brought the baby to her.
    ‘I probably shouldn’t hold her,’ she croaked. ‘In case I throw up.’
    ‘She’s thrown up on you enough times,’ Jen replied with a small smile. ‘She could hardly complain.’
    ‘I might have a seizure,’ Lilah said, so Jen clambered onto the bed beside her and held Isabelle for her, up against her body, so she could smell her, feel her warmth. There were tears sliding down her face as she said, ‘He isn’t here, is he? Zac isn’t here.’
    They arrived at midday. Zac didn’t stop to talk to anyone, he didn’t even look at them, he sprinted straight from the taxi into the house and up the stairs to Lilah’s bedroom, leaving Andrew standing on the lawn, looking up at the house, as though he were too afraid to go inside.
    ‘He was knocked off his bike yesterday,’ Andrew explained as Jen ushered him into the house. ‘He smashed his phone and had to go for stitches in his head. He didn’t get back home till the early hours, but we managed to get him on the flight.’
    Natalie appeared, shuffling down the stairs in filthy tracksuit bottoms, her hair lank about her face. Her face was a dirty shade of grey, like dish water, the circles beneath her eyes the colour of fresh bruises.
    ‘Jesus, Nat,’ was all Andrew could say as he went to her. Jen left them there, at the foot of the stairs, embracing. She could hear Natalie crying softly and her husband repeating, ‘I should never have left you, I’m so sorry, my love, I should never have left you.’
    Jen couldn’t believe that just hours ago she’d been thinking of lighting a fire. It was stiflingly hot, humid and close, the air heavy with moisture. She and Dan were in the kitchen, passing Isabelle back and forth to one another. The baby was angry, fractious, she refused to settle. She cried and cried and cried. Jen poured cold water on the back of her neck and tried to soothe her with a cold flannel, but nothing worked; her face became redder and redder, her furious screams tearing the air. Jen drank glasses of ice-cold water, wishing she could have gin and lime and bitter tonic, something to take away the taste in her mouth; she didn’t know what it was but no amount of brushing would get rid of it. She had never in all her life wanted so much to be oblivious.
    When Isabelle finally, finally fell asleep, Jen loaded a tray with glasses and a