Unperfect Bonus epilogue

You’ll sort it
“Don’t be grumpy about it, Max,” I said, suppressing a smile at the look on his face.
“I’m not grumpy,” he practically growled, and I couldn’t help the corners of my
mouth turning up just slightly, which made his expression even darker. Max was just the
most adorable grump in the world. Like a big teddy bear pretending to be a grizzly one. This
particular grump was about our sixteen-year-old daughter going out on a date. Of course, it
wasn’t labelled as a date:
“There’s a group of us, Dad,” Sophie had said in frustration. “We’re just having pizza
and watching a movie, hardly clubbing and injecting drugs into our eyeballs.”
But one of the group was Sophie’s official boyfriend now, and Max was deeply
unhappy about this development.
“I’m just saying that she’s too young to have a boyfriend. But then you lot don’t listen
to owt I say.”
Max was sitting at the kitchen island on one of the stools with his arms crossed, a cup
of tea in one hand. I circled the island so that I was standing in front of him, took his tea from
him and put it down on the granite surface beside him then stepped in between his thighs. His
expression softened and his arms uncrossed so that he could enclose me in them. I found that
when Max was like this it was always better to start off with a hug. My daughters and I all
regularly employed this trick on the big softie. He might bluster about and attempt to put his
foot down but in reality, he was a much bigger pushover than me.
I gave his bristly cheek a kiss and slid my hands up into his thick hair, now flecked
with grey at the sides. Max was one of those men who only seemed to get more attractive
with age. Although whenever I moaned about how unfair that was, he looked at me like I was
crazy: “What are you on about? Everyone knows what a lucky sod I am, married to the
prettiest lass in Dorset. I’m turning into a crusty old man and you’re just getting more
beautiful.” Max might not be smooth or charming in the traditional sense, but he certainly
had a way with a gruff compliment. He made the girls and I feel like the centre of the
universe every day.
“Soph is sensible. She’ll be fine. She’s sixteen Max. She’s not going to stay at home
for movie and popcorn night every Friday anymore.”
“We don’t only have popcorn,” grumbled Max. “Sometimes I make my special
Yorkshire puds. Heath, Yaz and the kids are bringing over Nacho’s this week. Soph never
misses the Nachos.”
I kissed him on his temple then on the corner of his downturned mouth before staring
up at him again. “Okay, we’ll compromise. She can come home at ten –”
“Nine-thirty,” he interrupted.
“Ten,” I said through a smile then gave him another kiss, this time on the mouth. He
huffed in annoyance, but I knew then he was going to give in.
“Mum, Dad?” Sophie said and we both turned to her as she walked into the kitchen.
She was frowning and her mouth was set in a stubborn line. I pulled back slightly from Max
but stayed in the circle of his arms. Given the argument Max and Sophie had just had before
she stormed off, I thought it was best I start with the placating now.
“Sophie, look, we’ve had a chat about tonight and we –”
“No Mum,” Sophie said, shaking her head. “I-I don’t care about that. Well, I do but
…” She took a deep breath in and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, I noticed
how pale she was. Something was wrong.
“Soph, love,” Max said softly, shifting me back so he could move off the stool to
stand. “Y’alright lass?”
“Oh Daddy,” Sophie said in a broken whisper and my chest squeezed. Max moved
then, striding across the kitchen to our first born and pulling her into a bear hug.
“Hey, what’s all this now,” he muttered into her hair as she clung to him, burying into
his chest. “Something happened with that bloody pipsqueak of a boyfriend of yours?”
“No, it’s nothing to do with that,” Sophie said, her voice a little shaky. I was next to
them now and I laid my hand on her shoulder.
“What’s happened, sweetheart?” I asked when she turned her head to me.
Sophie’s eyes flicked to Max then back to me again. “I don’t want to upset you,
Mum.”
My eyebrows went up. “Upset me? How could you possibly upset me?”
“Maybe I should show Dad first and then he can decide what to do. It’s just …”
“Show me what?”
“Mummy! Daddy!” Lily and her friend thundered into the kitchen then, closely
followed by my middle daughter Kira, who looked as pale and worried as Sophie, and Roger
who was trying to keep up, but the poor old boy had clearly been lying down for a while and
was too stiff to run. Kira was fourteen, but my youngest, Lily, was six. Max and I had always
wanted three but after Kira it just didn’t happen. Then one day I had a little cry with Yaz,
who’d been popping out babies left and right by this stage, about how I knew it was selfish,
but I wanted just one more baby. Yaz then covered my house with crystals, had the whole
place reeking of essential oils, and then massaged my feet practically daily – some sort of
reiki fertility. Max grumbled about “having another bloody crystal embedded in my arse
cheek” when he kept sitting on them, or how the house smelt “like a bloody unicorn farted
flowers everywhere” but by the end of the month I’d started vomiting, and he was hugging
his sister and promising he’d never doubt her ever again.
“What’s up?” I said, bracing at the incoming missile that was my daughter. Lily
collided with me and flung her arms around my waist then did the same to Max before
pulling away, putting her hands on her hips and staring up at us.
“Tell Molly that Daddies don’t say bad words to Mummies.” Molly was Lily’s friend,
and she was hanging back near Kira who had her arm around her shoulders. Molly’s gaze
flicked up to Max then away again. There was something in her expression that didn’t sit
right. I felt a frisson of foreboding shoot through me as goosebumps formed on my arms.
“What’s this about, Lils?” I asked, crouching down so that I was at Lily’s eye-level.
“We were playing Mummies and Daddies and Molly wasn’t playing it right,” Lily
was frowning now. I reached up and pushed some of her hair back from her face, managing a
small smile. Sometimes my daughter could be a little bossy. She was the most like Max of
any of them. She even looked like him – dark hair, beautiful green eyes. “Now, do you
remember what we talked about? Your friends might not always want to play the same games
as you and that’s okay. You have to-”
“No,” Lily said, stamping her foot, which was a sure-fire sign that frustration was
setting in. “You don’t understand. She’s playing it wrong. Daddies don’t say bad words to
Mummies, and they don’t hit them.”
I blinked at Lily then my gaze shot across the room to her friend. Molly was looking
truly terrified now. She had shrunk back into Kira’s side and wouldn’t look at me or Max.
“I know I shouldn’t be a tattletale,” Lily was whispering now, and I leaned forward to
hear her better. “But Molly said some bad words. I never heard some of the words before, but
two of them I heard Teddy say when he was on the phone to his friends. Teddy told me they
were really bad words, and I wasn’t to tell you that I heard him say them or he’d get in big
trouble. He made me pinky swear.” Her expression dropped then. “Oh no! I broke a pinky
swear with Teddy! I love Teddy.”
“Don’t worry, love,” Max said, softly. “We won’t tell Teddy off. We know the big lug
says naughty words.”
Lily looked appeased at this, and she smiled up at Max who ruffled her hair.
“Lils,” I said, and her attention went back to me. “I’m going to have a chat with
Molly, okay? Then maybe you guys can choose another game.” Lily looked a bit unsure.
“Come on, squirt,” Max said, scooping our daughter up to sit her on the kitchen island
surface. “You can help me make the sandwiches.” Lily grinned, there was nothing she liked
better than bossing her Dad around the kitchen. Whilst she was distracted, I walked over to
Molly and offered her my hand.
“Molly, do you want to see the guinea pigs?” She stayed behind Kira, avoiding my
gaze. “I could let you hold one if you promise to be very careful.” Her face poked out from
around Kira’s legs, and she blinked up at me. “I bet you can be careful, right? I bet you’re
very gentle.”
“I can be careful,” she said in a small voice and finally she took my hand.
So, sitting crossed legged in my utility room, and after some gentle questioning about
her home life, that feeling of foreboding had morphed into absolute rage. How dare Molly’s
father shout and swear at her mother almost constantly and in front of his daughter? The bad
words were very bad. I wasn’t surprised that Lily hadn’t even heard Teddy use some of them
before.
“Does your daddy hurt your mummy?” I asked. Molly was looking down at Gus, a
big fat brown guinea pig that Teddy called The Walking Poo much to my girls’ horror – they
doted on Gus. Her shoulders had tensed. I’d obviously hit a nerve. “I’m not supposed to say
anything,” she whispered, so quietly I had to strain to hear the words.
“Sometimes, Molly, adults tell us not to say anything, but little girls shouldn’t have to
have any secrets. It’s always better not to keep secrets unless it’s about a present or a nice
surprise for someone. And I’m a very good person to tell a secret like this to. I work with a
charity that helps lots of families where there are bad words and maybe people getting hurt.
Because really that isn’t good, and it needs to be made to stop.”
“Can you make it stop?” she asked, giving me direct eye contact now, hope brimming
in hers.
“I can but you have to tell me about it first.”
 “Daddy has to work really, really hard,” Molly said. “So, he gets tired and grumpy.”
“Okay, what happens when he’s tired and grumpy?”
“He shouts at mummy.” Molly’s eyes dropped back to Gus, and I held my breath,
waiting for her to go on. “Sometimes he hits Mummy,” she whispered down to the brown
lump of fur asleep on her lap. “He threw Mummy across the kitchen. She wouldn’t wake up
for a little while. I was really worried. We hid in her bedroom when she woke up.” My mind
flashed to Molly’s mum. The girls had been best friends since reception, and I thought I knew
Isla quite well. She was quiet but then so was I. We went for coffee after school drop off
sometimes. I’d been to her house for play dates with the girls. She worked from home for a
PR company, and her husband, Graham, was an accountant. I’d only met him a few times,
but he seemed fine, certainly not the type of man to throw his wife across a kitchen. But then
I thought a little more and I remembered the fact that Isla always wore long sleeves, even in
summer. I remembered her phone buzzing incessantly when we were having coffee and her
shaky smile when she apologised: “Graham just likes to know what’s happening and if I’m
okay.”
I bet he does, I thought to myself now, anger making blood rush to my head and cloud
my vision. I bet he likes to know exactly where she is, and I bet he doesn’t like losing control.
I knew what it was like to be cared about so much you felt suffocated, I knew how trapped
Isla must feel. And I knew how much danger she and Molly were in.
“Hey,” Lily shouted as she burst through the door. “I wanna cuddle the pigs too!”
“Lils, for god’s sake,” Sophie said in hot pursuit of my daughter. “I said to give them
a minute, you little tyrant.”
“It’s okay, Soph,” I said, trying to keep my voice light and not let the rage I was
feeling bubble to the surface. “You guys can come in and cuddle the pigs. Maybe set up a run
for them outside. I need to talk to your father.” Lily ran over to take my place and I did a
careful guinea pig transfer before standing up. On my way out Sophie caught my arm.
“I told Dad what Molly said when she was playing the game and what she acted out.”
I nodded. “Good girl.”
“Is it going to be alright?”
“It will be.”
Sophie breathed a sigh of relief.
“That’s what Dad said.”
I walked out of the utility and straight into Max’s arms. We stood like that for a long
moment. My throat felt clogged, and my eyes were stinging with stupid tears. Max pulled
back slightly to look at my face and wiped away a tear that had fallen down my cheek.
“I’m not sad I’m bloody furious,” I snapped, and he nodded.
“I know, love,” he said softly. “Molly’s not going home, is she?”
“No, she’s bloody well not.”
He nodded again.
“Shall we go and pick up her mum then? We’ll have to decontaminate Teddy’s room
cause he’s done owt to clear it, the bugger. But the girls can help make it nice. I thought of
Verity and Harry’s place since they’re in London for the next few months but … well … I
remembered what you were like after …” he cleared his throat before continuing. “I don’t
reckon you’d have liked to be alone back then. So maybe they won’t mind Teddy’s room.”
 This man. I hadn’t even discussed the plan with him or what we needed to do, and
here he was giving up space and privacy in his own home without question. I rested my head
on his chest and let out a long sigh of relief.
“I love you, you know,” I said into his shirt and his arms gave me a squeeze.
“Well, I love you too, you daft article,” he said in confusion. “Not sure what that’s got
to do with Teddy’s room. Need to have a word with the cheeky sod about swearing in front of
my daughter.”
I leaned back to smile a watery smile up at my husband. “You can’t tell him off. Lily
pinky promised and you know how much she loves him.”
He rolled his eyes, slung his arm around my shoulders and started propelling us across
the kitchen. “Kira, Sophie,” he shouted behind him as we made our way to the front door.
“You stay with the girls and play with the guinea pigs. We’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay Dad,” Kira shouted back. Sophie came running out of the utility and straight at
her father who was in the middle of putting his coat on.
“You’re going over there, aren’t you Dad?” she said as she flung her arms around
him. “You’ll sort it out, won’t you?”
“Of course I will, love,” he replied as he kissed her forehead.
“I love you, Dad,” she said, and his eyebrows went up.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “Every bugger loves me today and I haven’t even done
owt. Love you too, squirt.”
“Be careful, Dad,” Sophie called after us as we left the house. She was probably
worried about Graham – a clearly violent man. But I wasn’t worried. We’d go there, we’d
take Isla back home with us, and Graham wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop us. Max was
twice his size, and he did not like men who abused women.
I managed to convince Max not to punch Molly’s father that day. He bided his time.
Isla and Molly lived with us for three months after that. Eventually they moved into one of
the small eco-houses Max had designed for a local housing project. The first week Max and
Teddy temporarily disabled the alarm and slept on the sofas in the living room. When
Graham broke in, as Isla knew he would, he regretted it. Max said the wait had been worth it.
After that the alarm system went back online and Graham moved from the area.
Max didn’t lie to my daughter that day when he said he’d sort it. That was just the
type of man he was.
Yes, I loved my husband.