Page 90 of Into the Dark
He nods. “There’s a boy at my nursery called Alex.”
“Oh, I see. And is he your friend, this Alex?” I ask.
“No,” he says firmly. “He bit me.”
I look at Jake in horror, and he nods, eyes a shade darker.
“What? When?” I ask Jake.
“A few weeks back. I’ve honestly no clue what these places do half the time. The last one was just as bad. This is supposed to be one of the best in London, and it’s still sh—ambolic. No flipping clue what I’m paying them for,” he growls.
I nod gravely and look back at Caleb, giving him a quick visual once-over. Thankfully, his slightly golden skin seems unmarred by any bite marks that I can see. “Well, I suppose you’re right. Some boys are called Alex, but there are lots of names that both boys and girls can have,” I explain.
Caleb looks doubtful, like this might be the biggest lot of rubbish he’s ever heard in his whole three years on earth. “Like what?” he asks.
“Well, Alex, obviously, and there’s Frankie and Charlie, Geri and Jamie…” I look up at Jake for help. He seems to be thinking hard, but then he shrugs and shakes his head at me.
“Can boys have girls’ names too?” Caleb asks.
Impressed by his train of thought, I nod. “Of course. Boys and girls are almost the same anyway.”
“How?” He frowns, confused.
I think about how on earth to explain this to a three-year-old. “Um, well, imagine that boys and girls are made up of lots and lots of jigsaw pieces. Well, the jigsaw pieces that go together to make the boy and the jigsaw pieces that go together to make the girl are exactly the same.” I glance up at Jake to find him smiling an amused, lopsided smile at me. “It’s only when you go to put the very last piece in that we know whether it’s a boy or a girl. So, since they’re almost the same, it makes sense that boys can have girls’ names and girls can have boys’ names. “
Caleb looks at me suspiciously for a few long moments before turning to Jake, who widens his eyes. When Caleb looks back to me he still looks confused. I’ve completely lost him. Of course I have, because you don’t explain biology and chromosome definition to a toddler. I’m an idiot.
“But, do you want to know the most interesting part?” I plow on, determined to rescue this.
“What?” His eyes are wide now.
“Your dad decided on the very last piece of the puzzle. So he decided that instead of a little girl, he wanted you.”
Caleb’s mouth drops open. “You picked me?”
Jake doesn’t miss a beat. He wraps an arm around Caleb and pulls him close. “Course I did, mate—look at you. You’re my little lion man.”
Something inside me melts, and I feel a little relieved I’ve managed to pull it off.
Caleb beams up at his dad before turning promptly back to me. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing at the picnic basket.
“Lots of things.” I open the top of the basket, pull out the blanket first, and hand it to Jake. “Food and drinks for us and food to feed the ducks with.”
“Daddy said weren’t allowed to feed the ducks!” Caleb exclaims. “Dad said the ducks could die if we feeded them.” His eyes are wide and filled with fear.
Not wanting to contradict his father, I look up at Jake in question and bite my lip, not sure what to say next.
Jake kneels down and puts a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “Yeah, mate, I know. But Alex is a doctor, and so she knows what these ducks can eat and what they can’t. If she says it’s okay, then it’s okay.” He nods, throwing me a look that tells me he winged his rather convincing explanation.
Biting back a smile at him, I look at Caleb and give his wide-eyed stare a small nod that matches his father’s. “Yep. This is special duck food,” I tell him. Which is true—it’s the offcuts of some lettuces I picked from the garden, some frozen peas that were in the freezer for way too long, and some cut-up grapes that were bruised and had fallen from the bunch I packed into the picnic. Not a Brussels sprout in sight either. “This won’t hurt them, I promise. Will you help me give it to them?”
He nods eagerly, looking excited now, and reaches out to take one of the small bags from me. He immediately turns toward the pond, where a family of ducks floats aimlessly just out from the edge. He starts toward it then stops, looking back at me, waiting. I stand, wipe off my knees, and lift the remaining feed bag of broken bits from the basket. Taking a few steps toward him, I reach my hand out for him to take. If he doesn’t take it, then what? Casually pretend I was looking at my nails?
Thankfully, my pride remains intact when Caleb shoves his small hand into mine and practically drags me off in the direction of the pond. When I look back over my shoulder, Jake has a faint “I told you so” smile on his face. Despite my own delight and relief that Caleb doesn’t seem to be allergic to me, Jake clearly isn’t shocked or surprised by how things seem to be going.
When we reach the pond, Caleb crouches down on his haunches by the edge, and the bottom almost drops out of my stomach. I move closer to him, standing behind him to hold onto his shoulders as he tries to entice the ducks to come and say hello to him with the promise of his handful of green cuttings. It works, and they soon float over to him and busy themselves with his offerings as he chats away to them like he might do a dog or a cat or any other house pet.
“And do you have any pets at home? Dogs or cats or ducks?” I ask him, still gripping tightly onto his shoulders.