Page 65 of Insidious

I wish I could spare myself the heartache. Put an end to this limbo. But I need him if I want to keep Amelie.

As if on cue, my baby lets out a loud, indignant squawk, as if to remind me of what is important.

“We’re low on baby wipes,” I say, before taking another sip.

He nods immediately. “Okay.”

Mum turns, finally making eye contact with him for the first time since I walked in.

“Get the sensitive ones,” she advises. “Not the scented rubbish.”

“Right.”

“And formula,” I add after a beat. “Do you know which one?”

“Yes.”

Isaac reaches for his keys from the bowl by the door and seems to hesitate, like he might say something else.

“I won’t be long,” he says instead, and then he leaves.

The front door clicks shut.

Mum moves to the island and lifts Amelie from the swing, settling her against her shoulder. My girl immediately starts gnawing at the towel.

I stare into my tea.

“I just feel … this guilt,” I say before I can stop myself.

Mum adjusts Amelie.

“Remember what Sandra said. None of that.”

“I know.”

“I’m not saying this to be cruel, but he needs to understand and own up to the part he played. I can’t trust him until he does better.”

“I know.”

She goes quiet for a moment. Mum is a peacemaker at heart. My dad’s mother was territorial of her firstborn son. I watched Mum bend over backwards to get along with her. Once Grandma was diagnosed with dementia, Mum cared for her for years before she passed away. I have never heard her badmouth her to us.

She comes closer, resting her hand lightly on my hair, smoothing it back the way she used to do when I was upset or hurt.

“I know you know,” she says softly. “You scared me, Luna. I don’t ever want to go through that again. And if that means I kick your clueless husband’s arse, that is what will happen.”

My throat feels full of tears.

Because that’s exactly it. I scared myself. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like without my mum. My actions almost left my daughter without one.

I know Isaac’s sorry.

I know he probably didn’t sleep at all.

And none of it changes anything.

Mum shifts my baby into my arms. Amelie comes willingly, warm and wriggly and smelling of baby soap. I hold her close, pressing my lips to the soft side of her head.

“Eat some more,” Mum says.