Arriving home after the aborted ambulance call for help, Laura demanded a handful of paracetamol. I said no.
She insisted on taking paracetamol. She made her way to the medicine drawer. I blocked her access. She swayed in front of me. ‘I need them,’ she said. I gave her two. A choked laugh spat from her throat. ‘These are no good to me, give me six.’
‘Absolutely not.’ I ushered her upstairs, settled her in bed. I went downstairs to wait for Husband to come through the door.
Laura shouted down to me. She appeared on the landing demanding attention.
I shot back up the stairs. ‘Please be quiet, and go to sleep. Please let Dad come into a peaceful home. Let me explain to him what’s happened.’
Laura was having none of it.
My anxiety wrapped around my organs, like ivy around a vine.
Husband’s key slid in the lock.
Laura rushed down to confront him. He took a step back. I encouraged him to take a seat before I told him what had occurred.
He stared into space taking in all I said. Laura stood in the doorway, with her arms folded. ‘Why won’t he look at me?’ She demanded.
I could feel Husband’s temper rise. I begged him to go to our married daughter. I was worried he would flip his lid.
We stayed home, Laura and I.
Married sister was unhappy Dad had left me alone with the unpredictable child.
He returned home.