Warhol's Prophecy

19

‘WHEN IS DAD coming home?’

Hailey looked at her daughter with an expression of bemusement, as if she’d just asked her to explain the Theory of Relativity or the Origins of the Universe.

She lowered the book she’d been reading to Becky, and blinked hard.

The child was sitting up in bed.

‘He’ll be home tomorrow night,’ said Hailey. ‘Why?’

The little girl slid down beneath the sheets and pulled them up around her neck.

‘Dad does all the different voices when he reads my stories,’ Becky explained.

‘And I don’t?’ said Hailey, feigning annoyance. ‘My stories not good enough for you, eh? Right, that’s OK.’

Becky began to giggle.

‘I know when I’m not wanted,’ Hailey continued, tickling her daughter, smiling as the little girl wriggled.

Finally she sat back in the chair beside Becky’s bed, running a hand through her daughter’s hair.

Becky was still smiling, clutching a battered old stuffed dog.

‘Are you going to go to sleep now?’ Hailey asked.

Becky nodded and leant over to kiss her.

She waited until Hailey was on her feet, then rolled onto her side.

‘Mum, do you still love Dad?’

The question took Hailey by surprise. She turned and took a step back towards the bed, kneeling beside it, looking into her daughter’s face.

‘What makes you say that, darling?’ she wanted to know.

‘You do still love him, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do. I’ll always love your dad.’

‘And he loves you?’

‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

‘I’ve heard you and Dad shouting sometimes. I thought you didn’t love each other any more.’

Hailey gripped her hand and squeezed.

‘People disagree about things sometimes, Becky, that’s all,’ she said reassuringly.

‘Do they shout when that happens?’

‘Sometimes. They shouldn’t, but they do.’

‘Dad hasn’t gone away because you’ve both been shouting, has he?’

‘No, darling. He’s working, that’s all.’

‘And he is coming back?’

‘Of course he is.’

Hailey began to stroke her daughter’s hair again. She felt tears welling up inside, but fought them back.

It was less than five minutes before Becky drifted off to sleep. She shifted beneath the covers and rolled onto her back. Hailey kissed her gently on the forehead and cheek.

‘I love you,’ she whispered. ‘Sleep tight.’

She walked out of the room, pausing against the closed door for a second as if to recover her composure.

‘I’ve heard you and Dad shouting.’

Hailey made her way downstairs and into the kitchen, where she turned on the kettle.

‘Do you still love Dad?’

Hailey was surprised at how quickly her own tears began to flow.