Everyone’d said taking two toddlers away was asking for trouble. Clara drags her feet providing a running commentary of things making her sad.
The sun in her eyes. Her knees completely hurt. Why was Mummy not here?
“I’m the actual winner of the world” from Jakey ahead. Arms outstretched like a plane.
“Shall I carry you?” I reach backwards. Not wanting to turn, see her mother in miniature.
“No!” With a pout you could hear. She wants to be asleep. Not here. In bed back home. “When’s Mummy coming back?”
But I just couldn’t say those words today.