Page 112 of Savage Justice

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Page 112 of Savage Justice

Lucy chews on her lower lip, a sure sign she’s thinking it through. She seems to accept his assurance and falls silent for a while.

“Did you mean it, Uncle Marlowe? About me coming to stay with you and Auntie Clemmie in Paris?”

“I certainly did. As long as your mum agrees…”

Lucy spins around to confront me. “I can go, can’t I?”

“Yes, of course. But not quite yet. You’re still too young to be travelling abroad on your own.”

Marlowe agrees. “Wait until you’re little bit older, then we’ll stroll down the Champs-Élysées together and buy ice cream in the Tuileries.”

Her eyes light up at the mention of ice cream. “What are the Twilleries?”

“A garden, in the centre of Paris,” Marlowe explains. “There’s a stall there that sells the most wonderful ice cream.”

He had her at ‘ice cream’.

“I could come now, if my mum would bring me.”

“You mum’s a bit busy just for the next few months.”

He’s referring to my four-month bump, just starting to show. Baby Isaac is due to make his appearance in just over five months time.

“Oh, that.” Lucy dismisses my pregnancy as old news. “Well, what about Daddy? He could bring me?”

Marlowe shoots me a sharp glance.

“Lucy,” I begin. Has she somehow not understood…?

“I meant Nico,” she blurts. “I’m sorry, was I not supposed to say that? I know my real daddy is here, in this graveyard, but—” Her face starts to crumple. “I didn’t mean it. I just thought… I wanted…”

This time it’s Nico who beats me to it. He steps forward to scoop her up into his arms. “Baby girl, of course I’ll be your daddy if you’ll have me. I’d be proud, just like your other daddy.”

“C-can I have more than one daddy?” She sniffles.

“You can have as many as you like, but there won’t be a vacancy for a while, not if I have any say in it.”

She wraps her arms around his neck. “Will you? Will you take me to Paris to see Uncle Marlowe and eat ice cream in the Twilleries?”

“Let’s talk about it, sweetheart. But, yes, if your mum’s happy, and Marlowe, I don’t see why not.”

“Noah can’t come. He’s too young,” she announces with a superior air, her earlier sniffles all but disappeared.

“You’re probably right,” I agree. “Best if he stays with us.”

Nico and I follow Marlowe and Lucy along the driveway leading back to the crematorium car park. She’s skipping along beside her uncle, chattering incessantly about her upcoming visit.

“It was kind of you, to say what you said to her. I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured, though. I mean, it’s big thing…”

“It certainly is. A trip to Paris, ice cream in the Twilleries.”

I nudge him with my elbow. “You know what I meant.”

“Yes, I do.”

“She sort of dropped it on you. Maybe we should—”

“No, she didn’t. We talked about this already.”




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