She looks at him. ‘It was difficult, wasn’t it? While I was away. Looking after Mahalia on your own.’
He doesn’t reply for a while, and then says, ‘It was what I had to do. What I wanted to do.’
Emily lets sand slip through her fingers. ‘You know,’ she says, ‘I really did love you. And I feel . . . so sad sometimes about all that.’ For a moment she thinks she’s going to cry.
‘Come for a walk,’ he says, and pulls her to her feet.
And they fetch Mahalia from where she is digging and walk up the beach towards the mouth of the river. Emily carries Mahalia on her hip, where she sits holding on to Emily’s shirt with one hand, while waving the other hand in the air. She’s like an appendage – an extra limb, say, or a little wing, flapping joyfully as they make their way up the beach.
‘Do you know what I’d like?’ Emily tells Matt, after they’ve stopped so Mahalia can pat an old golden retriever. ‘I’d like us not to be too fearful for her. Not cocoon her too much. Let her play with dogs and run about outside and make cubbies and things. I’d like to bring her up not to be afraid. To learn how to make mistakes and recover from them. The world’s not that dangerous, right?’
Matt nods and grins, slinging Mahalia up onto his hip.
All the way up the beach they pass her back and forth between them, and when they come to the breakwater they climb up to look at where the river enters the sea. They search for the whales that can often be seen quite close to the shore, but there are none. And when they’ve had enough looking, they make their way down to the sand again. Matt goes first, clambering down over the rocks. At the bottom he looks up expectantly and holds out his arms.
‘Are you ready, Mahalia? One, two, three . . .’ Emily swings Mahalia out over the rocks, and Matt receives her and holds her close.
Little Wing Page 13