Unveiled
Page 97

Looking down out of the corner of my eye, I catch my boy regarding the pile of material with utter disgust. ‘I see,’ I muse.
‘Mr Hart, this really is becoming quite an issue.’
‘I’m being intuitive here,’ I begin thoughtfully, ripping my eyes away from Harry’s twisted face. ‘And I’m going to suggest you mean that it’s becoming a nuisance.’
‘Yes.’ She nods decisively, looking down at my boy. I’m not surprised when her frustration drifts into a tender smile as she regards him. ‘Harry, darling, it’s not nice to steal the other children’s socks.’
Harry’s face takes on an edge of sulkiness, but I intervene before he’s forced to explain himself . . . again. He has one compulsion. Just one. Matching socks. My relief that there’s not so many more refuses to let me take that away from him. It’s his thing. I had nothing to fear. Olivia’s beautiful soul really has eclipsed all of my darkness.
‘Ms Phillips, Harry likes matching socks. I’ve told you before and despite hating repeating myself, I’ll make an exception this one time. Ask their parents to do the decent thing and put their children in a matching pair. It’s not hard. And why they’re happy to let them leave the house in odd socks is a mystery, anyway. Problem solved.’
‘Mr Hart, I’m in no position to dictate what the parents of my children dress them in.’
‘No, but you’re happy to dictate to me what my son should endure during his school day.’
‘But—’
‘I’m not finished,’ I cut her off with my harsh words and the appearance of a silencing finger. ‘Everyone is overthinking this. Matching socks. It’s that simple.’ I wrap my arm around Harry’s shoulder and lead him away. ‘And we’ll be leaving that line of conversation just there.’
‘I concur,’ Harry adds, coiling his little arm around the backs of my thighs and hugging into my side. ‘Thank you, Daddy.’
‘Never thank me, sweet boy,’ I say quietly, wondering if Harry’s little thing is now becoming my obsession. I often find myself checking out people’s ankles on my son’s behalf, even when he’s not with me. The world needs ridding of odd socks.
 
‘Where’s my boy?’ Josephine’s happy voice creeps down the hallway as I let us in, and I immediately take a glimpse at Harry, seeing him removing his Converse and placing them neatly by the coat stand.
‘I’m here, Great-Nana!’ he replies, laying his rucksack beside his shoes.
Josephine appears, wiping her hands on a tea towel, her lovely face a joy to see. ‘Good evening, Josephine,’ I greet, slipping out of my jacket and hanging it on the peg, smoothing it down neatly before returning my attention to Olivia’s wonderful grandmother. She grabs my cheeks and assaults me with her lips while Harry waits alongside for his turn.
‘How many today?’ she asks.
‘Five.’
‘Five.’ She gasps, and I nod my confirmation, making her mutter something about it being a disgrace. She’s right. ‘I do love it when you’re here.’ She finishes up, leaving me with a damp face, and turns her old navy eyes onto Harry. He always has a smile for his great-nana. ‘And how’s my gorgeous boy?’
‘Fine and dandy, thank you.’ He steps into her open arms and cuddles her fiercely. ‘You look exceptionally lovely today, Nana.’
‘Oh, you dreamboat.’ She laughs, taking Harry’s cheeks and squeezing. ‘You beautiful, beautiful boy.’
Harry maintains his smile as Josephine takes his hand and starts leading him to the kitchen. ‘I’ve made your favourite cake,’ she tells him.
‘Pineapple upside-down?’ Harry’s beside himself, and it’s quite apparent in his hopeful tone.
‘Yes, darling, but it’s Uncle George’s favourite, too, so you’ll have to share.’
I follow behind, smiling like crazy on the inside as she shows Harry to a chair. ‘Hello, George,’ Harry says, plunging his finger into the side of the cake. I’m not the only one who winces. George looks horrified.
The old boy places his paper down and looks at Josephine, who shrugs it off. She’ll let him get away with murder. So I step in. ‘Harry, that’s rude,’ I scold, but find it difficult when his tongue is lapping at his cute little fingers.
‘Sorry, Daddy.’ He drops his head in shame.
‘I’ve been looking at this cake for twenty minutes.’ George takes the serving knife and sets about dishing up a slice for each of them. ‘Nana Josephine tells me off, too, if I finger-dip.’
‘But it’s so yummy! Would you like some, Daddy?’ Harry asks me, accepting the plate that’s slid across the table. He then lays his napkin across his lap, and his gorgeous blue eyes find mine. He smiles.
I take a seat next to him, gently ruffling his hair. ‘I’d love some.’
‘Daddy would like some please, George.’
‘You’ve got it, little man.’
I watch as George serves me a slice of Josephine’s famous pineapple upside-down cake and accept my plate, resting it in front of me. I tweak its position, just a little, despite my determination not to. It’s habit. I can’t help it. Looking up to my sweet boy, I find him smiling brightly at me as I lay my napkin across my lap, too.
He’s perfect.
My boy is advanced in every aspect of his young life. He’s smart, and he has no OCD traits beyond his sock compulsion, but everyone is allowed a thing. Harry’s is matching socks. I couldn’t be anything but proud of him. I’m so fucking proud of him. I throw him a little wink and burst with happiness when he giggles and attempts to wink back, blinking both eyes instead of one. OK, maybe not advanced in everything.
‘So, my handsome young man.’ Josephine settles next to Harry and pushes his spoon towards him in a gesture to tuck in, but she immediately slaps her own wrist when he scowls and puts it back in its rightful place.
‘Nana Josie!’ he tsks. ‘Daddy doesn’t like it there!’
‘I’m sorry!’ Josephine casts guilty eyes over to me, and I shrug, thinking she should know better by now. ‘I was doing so well.’
‘It’s fine, mate.’ I placate Harry, trying to calm him. ‘Daddy’s good with the fork there.’
‘You sure?’
‘One hundred per cent.’ I knock the fork off position, making him chuckle. The sweet sound goes some way to curbing my need to put it right back. But I don’t. He mustn’t see how crippled by obsession I once was. I’m getting better, though. And Harry helps immensely. I probably have the messiest kid on Earth. God’s clearly trying to get a balance.
George chuckles, placing his hands in his lap before straightening his face and holding Josephine in place with serious eyes. ‘Nana Josie,’ he scolds, shaking his head. ‘Where’s your memory?’
‘Up your arse,’ she mutters under her breath, apologising immediately when both Harry and I cough. ‘Sorry, boys.’ She gets up from the table and wanders around to George’s side. Josephine’s friend looks wary, and so he should. ‘Look at that, Harry!’ she yells enthusiastically, pointing to a spot across the room. I watch Harry’s face stretch into a delighted grin as he glances where indicated, and then I grin, too, as Olivia’s spunky grandmother gives old George a cuff around the head.