We crested the summit and stopped, and all London was spread out below us, from the North Downs that mark the southern border of the City, to the Shard and Canary Wharf to the East, and to St Paul’s Cathedral, marking our home in Smithfield.
Usually we would turn right at the top and make our way down to the string of ponds that would lead us out of the Heath, but today I indicated the lone wooden bench that waits for the weary traveller on the summit of Parliament Hill.
‘Sit down for a moment, Scout.’
She gave me a questioning look but parked herself on the bench, Stan chewing the grass between her feet to aid his digestion or maybe just because he liked the taste.
We stared at our beautiful city bathed in the haze of a blazing summer and it looked like a sweet dream that would evaporate upon waking.
‘We never sit down on a walk,’ Scout pointed out, swinging her legs, and lifting her chin in the direction of the neighbourhood that waits beyond the Heath. ‘Not until we get to Hampstead High Street. That’s how we do it.’
‘That’s true,’ I said. ‘But I’ve been thinking, Scout.’
‘OK,’ she said, as if there was a first time for everything.
‘We don’t really talk about what happened, do we? With our family. With your mother.’ I looked away from the city spread out below us and I concentrated on my daughter. ‘We never talk about it, Scout.’
‘We mostly talk about Stan.’
I smiled at her. It was true.
We did not talk about her school. We did not talk about my work. We certainly did not talk about what had happened to our family. Almost all of our conversations revolved around our dog.
‘And there are a few good reasons for that, Scout.’
‘I’m still young,’ she said, swinging her legs.
‘There’s that, angel. You’re right. But there’s other reasons too. We don’t talk about it because we’re doing all right, you and me. And we don’t talk about it because I guess we don’t know where to begin. And most of all, I think, and this is the way I see it, Scout – we don’t talk about it because it still hurts. It’s painful for us, Scout. All of it. Our family being together and then coming apart. All that time when you never saw your mum.’
‘She was very busy.’
‘That’s right. But we do need to have a bit of a talk about it now, OK?’
She nodded.
‘Your mother didn’t leave you. She left me.’
‘But you’re nice.’
‘Thanks, Scout. I appreciate that. It’s really kind of you to say so. It means a lot to me. It means the world. But here’s the thing, Scout – I know you miss her.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Oh, no, no, no.’
I ploughed on. ‘And I know you miss having your mother around. And I think you deserve a chance to be loved by her. And I think that you might like to try but you don’t want to hurt my feelings.’
Scout thought about it for a while.
Stan sighed, lifted his head to sniff her trainers, and fell asleep.
‘I’m sort of forgetting her,’ Scout said. ‘My mum. I don’t remember – really remember – when we were all together. And sometimes I don’t know if I remember a time or if I just saw a photograph of it.’ She reached down to scratch the fur of the sleeping dog. ‘Or maybe I imagined it. You know what I mean?’
My heart ached for this beautiful child who did not want to betray me.
But the forces pulling her away from me seemed irresistible.
‘I know exactly what you mean, Scout. I think you miss your mum. I think you have missed her more than either of us – you and me, I mean – want to admit.’
We were silent.
I had to find the words.
And I knew the words.
The difficult part was saying them.
‘Your mum wants you to live with her,’ I said. ‘And she wants it very much.’
‘I know.’
‘You know?’
‘She told me. And she showed me where my bed would be and where I would keep my stuff and she told me that it wouldn’t be like before. She told me that I would still see you. And that I would have all of the summer holiday before I had to think about going to a new school. And that everything would work out fine.’
I choked down something hard and bitter.
‘I will be there for you forever,’ I said. ‘Whatever happens, Scout. With me. With your mum. When you are a kid. And after you are all grown up.’ I grinned at her and she smiled back. ‘I’m not going anywhere, kiddo,’ I said. ‘I’ll always be there for you. All my life. And after my life is over. If there’s anything else, some kind of heaven, then I will be there and I will be watching out for you. Because nothing is more important to me than you, Scout. But you know all of that already, right?’
‘Right.’ She chewed her lip and scratched her sleeping dog. ‘But what about you? What would happen to you if I go? And when will I see Mia? And what about Stan? And what about all my stuff?’
She was seven years old. Scout cared about me. But she also cared about her stuff. And her friend Mia.
And her dog.
I swallowed hard and indicated the city that was spread out below us, that beautiful silver city shining in the dreaming summer sunshine.
‘Everything that you have here in London will still be here for you. Your friend – Mia. And your dog – Stan.’ I fought to find the words and felt them sting my eyes. I didn’t know how else to say it. ‘And my love, Scout,’ I said.
We stared out over London.
‘OK then,’ she said, and it was somehow all settled in that moment.
Scout would live with her mother. It was not the decision of the lawyers and the social workers and the judge. It was not even the decision of my ex-wife and me.
It was her choice.
And that was the way it had to be.
‘Shall we go?’ I said.
‘Pancakes sitting outside the Coffee Shop?’
I grinned at her.
‘Sounds good,’ I said. ‘And Scout?’
‘Yes?’
‘Nothing changes between us,’ I said. ‘Not now and not ever. And you know something else, kiddo?’
‘What?’
I touched her lightly on the shoulder.
‘I’m proud that you’re my daughter,’ I said.
28
Stan didn’t like to see you go.
Even if I was just nipping down the shops to get some bagels and milk, or if Scout was being dropped off for a sleepover, our dog would groan as if his heart was breaking into a billion tiny pieces to see part of the pack going its own way. And so Scout and I smiled at each other when he began to whimper when we parked on the street where it looked like nothing bad had ever happened.
Because seven days after we talked on Parliament Hill, with the summer and our city and her lifetime all before her, today she was really leaving.
‘Dogs don’t change, do they?’ Scout said.
‘That’s right,’ I said.
Dogs don’t change, I thought. Even when everything else changes. Dogs stay the same.
‘Oh, Stan,’ Scout said. ‘You best boy. You little red rascal. I will see you very soon.’
We left him in the car and carried her things up the path. Some of her things. Enough to get her settled, enough to remind us that the loft in Smithfield would always be there.
Anne and Oliver opened the front door as we came up the garden path. Their two small children milled at their feet.
Oliver stepped forward to help me, taking the suitcases I held and placing them in the hall. Then he shook my hand. How could I still think of him as the new guy?
This was Scout’s life now.
Scout was listening to her mother telling her about exciting times that were ahead. I didn’t catch all of it.
Pizza for dinner. A trip to the cinema to see The Angry Princess Two. All good stuff. The two children peered at Scout shyly from between their mother’s legs.