Luxury Accommodation

The morning after I learned that I had an eight-year-old daughter I lay in bed feeling both mentally and physically strange. Mentally because I was in shock and physically because I didn't have a hangover. Insomnia is not usually a problem for heavy drinkers, but as I had hit the sack sober I hadn't slept very well.

Banjo jumped off the bed and I opened the door to let him out. It was seven-thirty on a Sunday morning and the house was quiet.

I showered and I had brought a change of clothes and some toiletries on the chance that I might be staying the night.

As I crept along the corridor and reached the top of the stairs I could smell cooking, but my breakfast was in a flask in my car. I descended the stairs quietly and had reached the front door when a cheerful voice said, "Good morning Daddy, where are you going because breakfast is ready?" I turned to see Chrissy dressed in a pink jump suit and looking fresh and bright.

Quietly cursing I replied, "I'm just getting something from my car."

When I got into my car she stood in the doorway watching me and I was faced with the problem of taking a swig without being seen. I ducked low and swallowed a quick mouthful and when I looked up she had disappeared. I took another healthy slug and replaced the flask in the glove compartment. I grabbed the mouth spray, but it was empty.

As my blood started to flow again, I returned to see Chrissy standing in the hallway with her arms outstretched and her eyes closed. I sidestepped her with, "Back in a minute," and ran up the stairs to the bedroom to quickly swill my mouth with toothpaste. I descended at a more leisurely pace and stopped halfway with a spreading smile. Nearly three minutes had passed and Chrissy had not moved. Still with her eyes closed and her arms outstretched she stood motionless. She was as nutty as her mother.

When I hugged her with a kiss to each cheek she said, "Phew, my arms were getting really tired."

I swept her up and carried her into the kitchen where Emma was cracking eggs into a pan. She was wearing black slacks and a bright orange tank top and looked stunning. She said cheerfully, "Good morning Chris, did you sleep well?"

Untruthfully I replied, "Not bad thanks considering all things."

For the first time in many years I sat in a private home and enjoyed breakfast with people I knew. No queuing at a buffet, no standing with a tray and looking around for an empty seat and no waiters saying, "I'll attend to you in a moment Sir."

Chrissy demanded that I cut her toast into soldiers because she could never get them even. I obliged, and then wolfed down eggs, bacon and waffles while Emma watched with satisfaction.

I was breakfasting with a lover eight years from the past and a daughter I didn't know I had, and yet I felt comfortable.

The two of them were engaged in some chat about a TV soap when I found myself looking at Emma. She looked at me and for fleeting seconds our eyes locked, but I was the first to look away.

Chrissy asked, "Can we go to the park and feed the ducks Daddy?"

It didn't sound very exciting but I was in a pliant mood so I replied, "Sure."

She expanded the subject by continuing enthusiastically, "My favourites are the Goldeneyes and the Mandarins. Do you have a favourite?"

I answered, "Yeah, the one that goes best with orange sauce."

I thought that was a slick answer and expected a giggle. Instead there was silence and I looked up to see Emma with her eyes tightly shut and her face screwed in a grimace of apprehension.

Cautiously I turned my gaze to Chrissy to see her staring at me with an expression of condemnation. It was too late to retract the remark so I mumbled lamely, "That was supposed to be funny but I don't think it was."

She responded firmly, "No it wasn't, and I'm very disappointed in you. I don't think the ducks will feel comfortable with you feeding them."

"Well don't tell them what I said because I didn't mean it."

Her eyes softened and she said, "Alright, but you'll have to keep smiling at them."

I thought we would grab some bread and head out, but I was wrong. Chrissy informed me that bread has little nutritional value and we had to feed them with an approved diet. She supervised the assembly line with Emma defrosting peas and I was given the job of forming small round balls of dampened oats. Chrissy prepared some rice.

During the activity I stole a glance at Emma with a questioning look, but she replied with a resigned shrug of her shoulders.

When everything was to Chrissy's satisfaction we strolled to the park well wrapped up for the crisp winter morning. During the walk she explained which ducks emigrated during the winter months and which stayed and how the migration patterns were changing.

I was astonished by her knowledge and asked her if she was interested in ornithology. She knew what the word meant and replied, "Not particularly." When I asked how she knew so much about bird migration she answered, "I just know."

On the way back I suggested that we had a pub lunch, but that was vetoed by Emma who said there was food prepared at home. So I persisted with, "How about just a drink then?" And the two females looked at each other in silent communication as only females can.

Emma eventually replied, "I haven't been in a pub since my late teens, and what about Chrissy?"

Before I could answer, Chrissy replied, "It's okay when I'm accompanied by an adult and there is a food and soft drinks bar."

I had no idea if she was correct but I wanted a drink and said, "I was just about to say that. So let's go and sample the local beverages."

Emma was not enthusiastic but she went with the flow and we were lucky when the first pub we came to exhibited a prominent notice, "Families Welcome."

It was early and there was plenty of room, so I ushered them to a booth as far from the bar as possible. When I went with the order of a pint, a glass of wine and a soft drink, I flashed a tenner at the barman and said quietly, "Give me a large vodka before you pull the pint." He got the message and slid it to me without fuss.

Back at the table Emma had begun to thaw and as the pub started to fill and the atmosphere became charged with excited chatter she looked as if she was enjoying herself. I was sufficiently lubricated to act the fool and even talked them into a second round when I added more cash to the barman's unearned income.

On the walk back, Emma giggled that it was a relief that lunch was cooking itself as the wine might otherwise have impaired her culinary expertise. When we arrived home, a steak and kidney pudding was busily steaming away.

I made sure there were no leftovers and then demolished the remains of an apple crumble. As I scraped up the last morsels I realised how much I had missed home cooking. To the two watching females it must have seemed like feeding time at the zoo.

We relaxed with coffee in the lounge, but after a few minutes Chrissy said she was going to talk to some school friends on her computer. I thought I glimpsed a meaningful look at her mother as she was leaving.

Emma and I sat in silence until she asked, "Well, what are you going to do?"

"Like what?"

"Are you staying or going?"

I shifted uncomfortably before I replied, "Look Emma, yesterday I was me and today I am someone else. Surely you must realise that none of this seems real and I need time."

"So you're saying that you can't handle having a new daughter?"

Emphatically I replied, "Let's get this straight, she is not a new daughter. She is a used daughter; a previously owned daughter albeit by one careful owner who has had her for eight years."

She ignored that and persisted, "Do you want to break her heart? She's waited all the years that she's known about you and all you're going to give her is twenty-four hours?"

I was reluctant to admit it but I replied, "I am not the man I was. I drink too much and I'm badly out of shape although I can still do my job okay. I travel around, and my home is the next shitty hotel in some shitty country. I would be here today and somewhere else tomorrow."

"She knows you have to travel but all she wants is that you keep coming back and this can be your home. You are still a young man, although you look like you need a fifty-thousand-mile service, and you can watch her growing up. You'll have more years with her than I will."

I could feel myself weakening but I needed to know one thing. "What about us?"

"Us doesn't matter right now, let's take it as it comes. Is it a yes or a no?"

I still wasn't satisfied and persisted, "What would I be, a lodger or a part-time father?"

"Both. You didn't pay any rent before and if you want to contribute then spend it on Chrissy. Don't worry, she won't let you spoil her. Now be a man and go and get your stuff."

On the way back to the hotel I wondered what I was taking on, but at the same time I was conscious of a feeling of pride. I had achieved nothing of any value in my life and Chrissy was a very pretty girl and certainly intelligent.

From habit I headed straight for the bar and when the barman asked for my order I replied, "Changed my mind thanks," and walked away feeling good.

I didn't feel quite so good on the way back to the house, and the doubts crept back again. For years my life had been just sex and booze, but now that was going to change. Would I be able to adjust? I honestly didn't know.

Once again I was in possession of a house key and went straight to my room. After I had unpacked I headed downstairs and marched determinedly into the lounge. I fired the first salvo with, "What are those bathroom scales doing in my room?"

With a look of innocence Emma enquired, "Bathroom scales? What bathroom scales?"

"The ones that weren't there this morning."

After a pause she replied thoughtfully, "Oh those scales. I expect the cleaner took them away to clean them and now she's put them back."

"On a Sunday?"

She responded aggressively, "Alright, I put them there because I thought you might want to get into shape. You used to have such a beautiful body, but now your gut is hanging over your waist band. If it pisses you off, sling them out."

I was serious when I responded, "Emma you are not stupid but if you push me that will be very stupid. I'm going to try to change a lot of things but it will take time."

The next time I showered I looked down at the scales. After a deep breath I climbed on and stared in disbelief at the numbers. I breathed, "Jesus Christ," and climbed off again.

****************************** I had plenty of leave owing and decided to take a few days off. I went into town and bought myself some trainers and started with some brisk walks, building up to a clumsy jog that finished with me heaving and gasping against a wall. Although I kept a flask topped up in the car and had the occasional nip, I found myself unscrewing the lid less frequently.

Chrissy left for school at seven every morning and didn't get home until after five. A cab called for her each day, which I thought was strange, but Emma said the school was far away. I didn't question it at the time and although I assumed there were closer schools, I guessed she had chosen one carefully.

Although I spent a considerable amount of time with Emma during the day, there was never any suggestion of sex and for the most part we were polite to each other with a touch of awkwardness.

The three of us always spent the evenings together when we would watch television or play games. Whenever the news was broadcast, Chrissy would watch it with interest and that surprised me. After she went to bed, Emma and I would not talk much but occasionally play backgammon when there was plenty of rivalry.

It was on a Saturday evening that the situation changed dramatically. Chrissy liked me to tuck her in and kiss her goodnight, and I knew that was what daddies were supposed to do. Anyway, it gave me pleasure.

When I was tucking her in she asked, "Do you love Mummy?"

I answered, "Love is a very complicated subject and it's not always honey and roses as you will find out one day. Sometimes mums and dads argue a lot and seem to get quite angry, but deep down they really love each other. One day you will understand."

She replied calmly, "I understand perfectly. You and Mummy each have strong personalities and enjoy arguing to see who wins."

I was surprised and said, "Yes that's true, and it's because we are both very stubborn people."

She persisted, "I still want to know if you love Mummy?"

I cast my mind back eight years and considered the question carefully. I thought about Emma's bloody-mindedness, her zany humour, her soft and gentle kisses and her passionate love making.

Eventually I answered, "I have never loved anyone else, but don't tell her I said that."

She responded, "Good, because she loves you and always has."

"If you say so."

It started to get complicated when she continued, "If you both love each other, why then are you sleeping in separate bedrooms?"

The situation was getting awkward so I said, "Honey you're talking about something that you don't yet understand."

Then she came at me with all guns blazing when she said, "I'm talking about sex."

My jaw dropped and I fought against rising panic. I tried to speak calmly but my voice was a high pitched squeak when I spluttered, "You can't say things like that at your age. I don't know where you're getting this from, but I'm going to have a word with your mother."

She continued, "Calm down Daddy and let's discuss this sensibly. Sex is one of the ways that two people can show that they love each other, but they can't from separate bedrooms."

With no training for such a situation I was completely out of my depth and I wanted to run away. I decided that my best strategy was to chicken out, so I said weakly, "Chrissy I'm really sorry but I'm not very good at this sort of thing, may we talk about it some other time?"

She answered in the same calm voice, "Daddy I know you're embarrassed but I'm just trying to get things moving. I'm not old enough to have emotions like carnal desire and that stuff, so I'm telling you only what I know. You are the male of the species and you have to go to her because she won't come to you."

I was on the canvas and the referee was counting me out. I just wanted to get out of the room and heard myself say, "Thank you for the advice Darling and I'll do my best. May I go now?"

She kissed me goodnight and I staggered out of the room to lean exhaustedly against a wall. As my composure returned, so my resolve strengthened and I stormed down the stairs and into the lounge.

Emma was reading a magazine and I snapped, "Put that down and pay attention. I don't know what the hell you've been teaching your daughter, but I've just been lectured about the birds and the bees by an eight-year-old child."

"Did you learn anything?"

I replied vehemently, "This is not funny. She is a very sweet kid but I am sorry to say that she is not normal."

Emma looked at me without expression and then placed the magazine on her side table. She said, "You've been here for quite a while and you've only just come to the conclusion that she is not normal?"

Was I missing something?

I enquired tentatively, "Isn't she normal?"

Emma sighed and then asked, "Why do you think she knows all about ornithology, licensing laws and sex among many other things?"

I thought about it and ventured, "Because she's bright?"

She continued, "Try giving it some more thought. She's driven thirty miles to her school every day when there is one less than a mile away. Why do think that is?"

I definitely was missing something and replied cautiously, "I don't know, you tell me."

She was struggling for patience when she asked, "Do you know what a gifted child is?"

"Of course I do."

"Well she makes gifted children seem below average. She has taken IQ tests for adults and scores right off the scale. The school she goes to has only a handful of students, and in some cases their parents have moved house to be closer to the school."

With emphasis she stated, "Chrissy is not just bloody bright, she is a genuine one in a million."

I was struggling to take it all in and asked in wonderment, "You mean she's a genius?"

"For want of a better word then yes, although how that came about with you as a father is a mystery."

I bristled indignantly, "I'm intelligent."

"You used to be before you pickled your brain."

I ignored that and enquired, "Why are you getting so angry, this is good isn't it?"

Emma sighed before answering, "Good some but not so good lots. Can you imagine what it was like having a six-year-old child who was more interested in documentaries than the Teletubbies? A seven-year-old who thumbed through an encyclopaedia instead of a nursery rhyme book? An eight-year-old who can finish The Times crossword when I fail?"

She continued, "But let's talk about her problems, and this is the sad part. I couldn't send her to a kindergarten, so she has never grown up with children of her own age. She's got no friends except on social networks, probably in Japan or somewhere. In five or six years she should start getting boyfriends, but how is she ever going find one her own age that she can talk to?"

I stared at her in silence and while I was trying to digest it all she added, "Incidentally, I'll forgive you for not being fully aware because she does her best to hide it."

With some relief in her voice she continued, "However here is the good part. According to the normal pattern for children with her intellect she should be moody and withdrawn, but by some miracle she's actually a very nice kid. But trying to keep her mentally occupied has been almost impossible. Her brain absorbs knowledge like a sponge."

I decided to contribute with, "I'll teach her about flow mechanics."

"I wouldn't bother. She has always known what you do and probably knows as much about it as you."

That was a point and I certainly didn't want to be embarrassed, so I said, "What about languages? You said she was learning Spanish."

"Learned my Dear, among others. And don't attempt to play her at any game that requires skill. She taught herself to play chess, so I took her to the local club and she whopped their champion."

I decided to come clean about the conversation with Chrissy. "Well I think she's working on a new project."

"Three in fact."

That surprised me and I enquired, "Three?"

"Your weight, your drinking and us."

"I'm doing something about my weight, but how does she know I drink?"

"Probably because you always smell of mouth spray when you kiss her."

I couldn't argue with that but I decided to take the plunge and ventured, "What about us then?"

"What do you mean, what about us?"

"Do you want to give it a go?"

Perhaps I hadn't put the suggestion in the most persuasive manner because she went berserk. With acid dripping from her fangs she snarled, "Do I want to give it a go? Is that the best you can do you unromantic pig? You're not inviting me for a bloody dance. No I do not want to give it a go, and definitely not until you approach it like a gentleman."

I limped away to lick my wounds and retired to my room. After some serious thought I decided to have another attempt and resisted a trip to my car for fortification.

As soon as I heard her go to her room, I showered and splashed some aftershave lotion on my private parts. When my eyes had stopped watering I crept along the corridor to her bedroom. I had rehearsed some romantic things to say and, after a couple of deep breaths, I tapped on her door.

I received a curt, "What?"

Cautiously peering around the door I enquired, "May I come in?"

She was reading and looked up to ask, "Have you brought any flowers, champagne or chocolates?"