Page 36 of The Sunrise Sisterhood

‘Can I have some chocolate too please,’ Clare asked politely.

‘Coming up,’ Skye replied.

‘OK, you …’ Clare scooped Ivy up when she’d gone. ‘Sunscreen time. Your favourite.’

She brushed the sand off her wriggling child, peeled off her T-shirt and shorts and began rubbing factor 50 into her skin. She’d just finished when Skye came back with the coffees.

‘They didn’t have chocolate, so I got you a brownie,’ said Skye, handing her a paper bag before setting a drinks holder down with two coffees in it away from Ivy.

‘Thanks.’ Clare opened the bag. The brownie smelled delicious. Ivy heard the rustle of the bag and headed over, opening her mouth like a baby bird. Clare broke off a small piece and fed it to her.

‘She’s got gorgeous hair,’ Skye commented, sipping her coffee, ‘and lovely olive skin. Quite different to yours.’

Clare smiled. ‘She has. I hope she keeps her curls as she gets older.’

Ivy crawled away and Clare took the opportunity to sip her cappuccino.

‘Does she …?’ Skye stopped mid-sentence and shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

‘It’s fine, you can ask,’ Clare said, knowing exactly what Skye was going to ask. Because everyone wanted to know the same thing: Who’s the daddy …?

Skye bit her lip. ‘I was going to ask whether she looks like her father. But then I realised I was being nosy. So if you’d rather not talk about him …?’ She looked at Clare hopefully.

Clare gave a practised smile; she was used to this sort of question. ‘When she was born, she came out looking like a little old man. My first thought was that she looked like Dad.’

Skye grinned. ‘That must have been a shock.’

Clare’s heart squeezed at the memory. The whole nine months had been one long shock.

‘It was. But, to be honest, I was just glad she’d arrived, healthy and in one piece. It was a long labour involving a grumpy doctor and several pieces of equipment I’d rather never think about again.’

Skye cleared her throat. ‘And are you still in contact with him, I mean does he see her?’

‘The doctor? No, of course not.’

‘I meant Ivy’s father, is he still in her life?’

Clare’s throat tightened. ‘Never been in it at all. I mean, he was in, you know, briefly, but … the answer to your question is no.’

Skye’s face was full of sympathy. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

Clare caught hold of Ivy again and swapped her nappy. She wasn’t entirely convinced it was robust enough to handle any serious business, but time would tell.

‘He washed his hands of me – of us,’ she said, telling Skye the same as she told anyone else who’d asked. ‘Didn’t want anything to do with us.’

Skye’s face fell. ‘That’s terrible. To do that to you after giving birth.’

‘It was even before that,’ Clare said, grappling with Ivy to put her feet through the leg holes of the tiny sunsuit she’d bought her. It was like putting a pair of tights on a cat.

Skye grimaced. ‘Are you sure I can’t help with that?’

‘I’m fine,’ Clare panted, holding the suit by the shoulders and jiggling Ivy into it like a pillow into a pillowcase. ‘Things cooled right off between us after Mum’s accident. I don’t think he could handle my grief. He couldn’t reach me, I suppose.’

‘You poor thing,’ Skye soothed. ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t around to help.’

Clare smiled ruefully. ‘Thanks, but I probably wouldn’t have let you even if you had been. Anyway, I found out I was pregnant, and whoosh. Gone. Never saw hide nor hair of him again.’

‘What a shit!’ Skye was agog. ‘You are well rid of him. Poor Ivy. Poor you!’