Ella and I were sitting in her princess castle when a shadow fell across it and I heard the muffled sound of movement on the other side.
‘What is that, Daddy?’ she asked, terror etched across her face.
I tried to reply, to reassure her, only to find that I was frozen. I couldn’t even speak as, to my horror, the presence crept around the tent, rustling here and scratching there, until it eventually stopped by the door. There was an irregular sniffing sound and then the zip started to open.
‘I’m scared,’ Ella whispered. ‘What’s happening?’
Despite my own fear, I was desperate to protect my daughter. But it was useless: I was paralysed.
‘Daddy!’ she cried. ‘Wake up!’
My eyes snapped open and I was lying on my parents’ couch, Ella standing before me. ‘Are you all right? I think you were having a nightmare.’
‘Darling,’ I replied, stunned for a moment as I shook off the false reality of my dream. ‘Thank goodness.’
‘Was it a scary one?’ Ella asked, making me wish I could pull her into a hug. ‘What was it about?’
‘Just some nonsense. I’m fine now. What time is it?’
She ran to the silver carriage clock on the mantelpiece and squinted at it. ‘Um. The little hand is on six, I think, and the big hand is almost at the top. Is that six o’clock?’
‘That sounds right, love. Well done.’
‘We’ve been practising at school. Mrs Afzal said I did a super job.’
I chuckled. ‘I’m sure she did. That’s early, though. Don’t you want to sleep some more?’
‘No. I’m wide awake. Can we do something?’
‘Are Nana and Auntie Lauren still asleep?’
‘Yep. I peeked in on them.’
‘Fine. What would you like to do?’
‘Can we play Ginger Man?’ she asked, jumping up and down on the spot.
She was referring to a video game we used to play together. That wasn’t its actual name; she’d called it that when she was younger, because she thought the main character looked like a gingerbread man, and it had stuck.
‘I wish we could,’ I replied, ‘but the console’s not set up here. Even if it was, my days of holding a controller are long gone.’
Ella pulled a sad face. ‘Not fair.’
‘Sorry, darling. I agree, but there’s nothing I can do.’
I suggested playing Connect Four instead, as long as she didn’t mind making my moves for me.
She agreed, although it was hard not to miss the disappointed look on her face.
We had fun all the same, switching to draughts when we needed a change. Our conversation was comfortably sparse, never straying far from the game at hand. And when thoughts about my trip to the future fluttered into my mind, I told myself that I might have dreamed the whole thing. That was possible, wasn’t it?
I looked over at the clock and was surprised to see it was already after 7 a.m. ‘I think we’d better call it a day, Ella. The others will be up soon. They might think it a bit odd to see you playing against yourself like this.’
‘I’m not playing against myself. I’m playing with you.’
‘Of course you are. We both know that, but it’s our secret, remember.’
‘I remember,’ she said, her voice tinged with sadness.
‘That was fun, wasn’t it?’ I said, trying to lift the conversation. ‘See. We don’t need video games to enjoy ourselves.’
‘Daddy,’ Ella said. ‘Why can’t I just tell Nana and Auntie Lauren about you? They’d be so happy if they could see you too.’
‘I know, darling, but it’s not that easy. Like I told you before, adults aren’t as good as children at understanding new things. It was hard enough for me to get through to you; it would be a thousand times harder still to do it with them. If you tell them, they’ll think you’re imagining it and they’ll worry about you.’ I hesitated before adding: ‘They might even think you’re sick and take you to a special doctor.’
‘But I thought it was wrong to lie?’
‘It is, darling, but this is … an exception. You don’t necessarily need to lie, anyway. Just don’t mention anything in the first place.’
‘Okay,’ she whispered.
‘Good girl,’ I replied with feigned assurance as her breathy one-word reply raked at my soul. How can it be right to tell my six-year-old daughter to lie for me? I thought. What kind of a parent am I?
My mind flitted back to the image of a grown-up Ella crying in her futuristic kitchen. Real, imagined, whatever it was, I could picture it as clear as day in my mind’s eye. And it haunted me. Even as I justified my actions to myself as necessary and unavoidable, that image said otherwise. It countered my argument with a simple truth: if I wasn’t still here, there would be no need for Ella to lie.
Before I had time to rein myself in – to leave my daughter out of this internal conflict – I heard the words falling out of my mouth. ‘You do like me being around, don’t you, darling? Even though it’s not like it was before?’
She looked at me like I was stupid. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I? Having you back is the best thing ever.’
I smiled at her, knowing in that moment more than ever why parents called children their pride and joy. ‘I love you so much, Ella. You know that, don’t you? You’re the best daughter in the world. Probably in the universe, although I can’t say for sure as I’ve never travelled that far.’
Ella giggled as she packed away the board games. ‘I love you too, Daddy.’
Mum came down the stairs a few minutes later. ‘Good morning, Ella. You’re up bright and early. Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, thanks, Nana.’ Ella looked straight at me as she picked up a school book and waved it in the air. ‘I was doing a bit of reading.’
My heart sank at the deception, no matter how small.
‘Good girl,’ Mum replied. ‘Did you understand all the words?’
Ella nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘Excellent. Maybe you can read to me later to show me how good you are.’
‘Okay, Nana.’
I returned to the church and the school a couple of times over the next few days, but I made no progress in my search for Arthur. There was no sign of him. I was concerned, but other matters also demanded my attention.
There was Dad, for one, still in hospital and showing few signs of improvement beyond the regained use of his leg. There was his mystery woman, who we were no closer to unmasking. Then there was black Audi stalker man, for whom I’d been keeping my eyes peeled without any further sightings. And as if that wasn’t enough, playground bully Kaylee had been picking on Ella again.
I’d stayed away from her school recently, figuring she’d integrate better with her classmates if I wasn’t around. I hadn’t heard any more of Kaylee since our pep talk. Then one evening, out of the blue, she flew into a tantrum about her tea being ready before the end of a TV programme she was watching. She blanked me when I told her to pull herself together. I’d seen her like that before – when she was tired or upset about something – but grandparents usually escaped such behaviour. So the initial reaction from Mum, more used to spoiling Ella than standing her ground with her, was one of shock. I think she was about to back down and let Ella eat in the lounge when Lauren stepped in.
‘Come on now, Ella,’ she said calmly but firmly, kneeling down so she was eye to eye with her niece. ‘Nana’s made you a nice tea. The television’s going off now and that’s that. There’s no need for silliness.’
Ella stared at her in silence for a moment, as if weighing up whether or not to do as she said, before walking over to the TV and turning it off.
‘Good girl,’ Lauren said. ‘Come on now. Let’s wash your hands and I’ll sit down at the table with you.’
Mum looked as impressed as I was. I don’t think either of us thought she had it in her.
‘Nice one, sis,’ I said once Ella was out of earshot. ‘You’re a natural. Who knew?’
It was also Lauren who got Ella to admit there was something wrong when she put her in the bath that evening. She confessed that Kaylee had been calling her ‘Orphan Annie’ in the playground for the last few days. That lunchtime she’d had enough and – presumably acting on my advice – she’d pushed Kaylee over. One of the teachers had seen and Ella had got into trouble.
‘Was she hurt?’ Lauren asked her niece as I peered through the bathroom door, which stood ajar.
Ella shook her head. ‘She just pretended while the teacher was there.’
‘Did you tell the teacher what she’d been calling you?’
‘No.’
‘And did the teacher punish you?’
‘No, but she told me off,’ Ella replied, throwing an accusatory glance in my direction. ‘And I’m worried she might tell Mr Norris.’
‘Who’s he?’ Lauren asked.
‘The head teacher. He sometimes calls naughty children into his office and shouts at them. I don’t want him to shout at me.’
‘Is that why you got all worked up earlier?’
Ella nodded.
‘Well, don’t you worry about it any more. I’m coming into school with you tomorrow and I’m going to tell those teachers exactly what’s going on. I’m not surprised you pushed over that nasty little girl. It was the least she deserved. I can’t believe she’d say such a thing to you after everything you’ve been through. This Mr Norris ought to be shouting at her.’
Ella protested at first, but Lauren soon persuaded her it was the right course of action.
Standing there on the landing, listening to their conversation, I felt like an outsider. I was proud of my sister for getting to the root of the problem and for the way she intended to defend her niece. But I couldn’t help also feeling frustrated that I wasn’t able to do those things myself. It reminded me of what Lizzie had said about not being able to protect Ella from being kidnapped.
But had she said that? Or had I actually dreamed that conversation and the subsequent trip to the future? I thought about calling my guide to find out but decided against it. The likelihood was that she wouldn’t tell me. Giving straight answers wasn’t her speciality. Besides, what did it matter? Whether she’d said it or my subconscious had thought it, the realization was the same: I couldn’t be a proper father to Ella like this.