Cooking was something that Emma felt she could do to keep her body occupied while her mind spun in circles. Just sitting had never been something she had managed easily, and any problems in her past had always resulted in bursts of energy. It wasn’t only that, though. Unlike David, she was aware that the conversation in the kitchen was being listened to, and much as she was determined to work on Natasha, the girl wasn’t going to weaken when she knew she would be heard. And she could hardly drag her off into the bathroom. She pushed her chair back and started to grab plates. ‘I’ll do that, Em,’ David said. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t done justice to your breakfast. I think if I try to swallow anything solid it will choke me.’ ‘I wonder what they’ve given Ollie for breakfast,’ was all she said. ‘I hope they understand what babies of his age like to eat. Do you think they do, Natasha? Or will they be feeding him salted peanuts, or whole grapes with pips in?’ She looked pointedly at her stepdaughter, who looked pale this morning.
