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“Not the heaven bit,” said Alice. “But the consent bit. It’s important to have, wait, give consent for things and to ask for it as well so you don’t make other people feel bad or make them do things they don’t want to do. Like if I want to play legos and you don’t want to play legos if I make you play legos then that’s against your consent and it’s wrong.”
“I see,” Hope said. Alice had the essentials at least. “Well, would you consent to eating some spaghetti?”
“Yes,” said Alice seriously.
“Then go take those wings off,” said Caz. “Otherwise you’ll get sauce all over them.”
Hope picked up the pan of boiling pasta and water and turned just as Alice was scooting past her. She squealed, fumbled, and managed to practically throw the pot at the sink, narrowly avoiding splashing her daughter. “Al! No running in the kitchen!”
Alice froze, looking at the puddle of water on the floor.
“Accidents happen,” Caz said. “And that’s all it was. No one’s hurt, right Alice?”
Alice nodded and looked up at Hope. “Sorry.”
Hope sighed. “Go and change those wings, go on, let’s see if I can rescue this spaghetti out of the sink.”
“I’ll get the mop,” said Caz as Alice walked ever-so-carefully toward the stairs.
Hope went to the sink, gratified to see that most of the spaghetti had made it into the strainer sitting there anyway.
“I was meaning to talk to you,” Caz said, as Alice’s footsteps disappeared upstairs.
“Mmm?” said Hope.
“About going out one night early next week. Monday maybe.”
Hope spun around and lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t need to ask me for permission to go out,” she said.
“Good,” said Caz, coming back with the mop. “Because I wasn’t asking permission exactly, I was—”
She never finished her sentence. Her foot slipped out from under her as it hit the edge of the puddle of water and Hope watched in horror as her mother came down hard onto the floor, smacking her head against the edge of the kitchen cabinet as she fell.
“Mum!”
There was a millisecond that felt like an eternity before Caz moved. “It’s fine, I’m fine.”
Hope rushed to her, bending over. “You’re not fine.”
“Well, I’ve not broken a hip,” said Caz, a look of relief on her face.
“But you cracked your head going down.” Hope pressed her fingers into her mother’s scalp, watching her wince as she did so. “And that means a trip to casualty.”
“No, no, don’t fuss,” Caz said, struggling to stand up.
Hope helped her up and stationed her on a kitchen chair. “I’m not fussing, mum. You gave your head a good bang, we’re getting it checked on, no complaining. Let me just call Noah.”
She gave her mother a glass of water and grabbed her phone from the kitchen counter, keying in Noah’s name and then pacing into the front hallway as the phone rang.
The phone rang and rang and Hope peered anxiously out of the window next to the front door. Voicemail picked up and she hung up, immediately dialing Noah again. Rosie hopped over the hedge and Hope opened the front door to call her in, phone still in her hand.
The cat slinked past her and the phone went to voicemail again.
“Damn it,” Hope said, already dreading the thought of taking a wiggling six year old to the hospital. She had no choice but to go. Caz wasn’t getting any younger and Hope wasn’t going to let her take chances.
But taking Alice as well wasn’t ideal. She could kill Noah. She knew that he’d be home from work by now. Why wasn’t he picking up his phone?
“Everything alright?”
