Chapter 6: What Claire Knew
The tea had gone cold.
Nobody had touched it.
Victoria looked at the table for a long time.
When she finally spoke, her voice had lost its composure entirely.
What came out instead was something smaller and more tired.
"It started about a year ago," she said.
"I was struggling.
I wasn't sleeping.
You were traveling every other week and I was here alone with her and I—" She stopped.
"I lost my temper more than I should have.
I know that."
"More than you should have," Daniel repeated.
"I never hurt her.
Not the way you're imagining."
"She had tenderness at the back of her head, Victoria."
"That was today.
Today was the worst it's ever been.
I know it went too far."
"And the other times?"
She pressed her lips together.
"Raised voices.
Grabbing her arm when she wouldn't listen.
I know how it sounds."
"It sounds like what it is."
"I'm not a monster." Her eyes filled again.
"I love that little girl.
I have been here every single day—"
"So have I."
"You've been traveling—"
"I came home.
Every time.
I was always here." Daniel leaned forward.
"And while I was here, you were doing this, and Emma was protecting me from knowing about it.
A seven-year-old was managing my feelings."
Claire reached across and put her hand over Victoria's.
Victoria pulled away.
"I went to Pauline because I panicked," Victoria said.
"I knew Emma had started to say things at school.
Her teacher had asked me about a bruise on her arm in March.
I told her Emma had fallen." She paused.
"I was scared."
"You were covering it up."
"I was scared," she said again, as if repetition might change what it meant.
Daniel stood.
He walked to the window.
Outside, Emma was still in the car.
She had found something in the door pocket — an old receipt or a piece of paper — and was folding it carefully.
"Claire," he said without turning around.
"How long have you known?"
A silence.
"Victoria called me in February," Claire said.
"She told me she'd been having a hard time.
That she'd been short with Emma.
I told her she needed to talk to someone.
A professional."
"Did she?"
Another silence.
Longer.
"No," Claire said.
Daniel turned around.
"I should have pushed harder," Claire said.
Her voice was even, but her hands were clasped tight on the table.
"I told myself it wasn't my place.
That it wasn't serious enough." She looked at him directly.
"I was wrong.
I'm sorry."
It was the first honest thing anyone had said in that kitchen in a long time.
Daniel looked at his wife.
"I'm going to ask you to go and stay somewhere else tonight," he said.
"Claire's, your mother's — I don't care.
But not here."
Victoria stood up.
"You can't just—"
"I'm not arguing about it.
Emma comes inside when you leave."
"This is my house too."
"I know it is." His voice didn't waver.
"And we'll deal with all of that.
But not tonight.
Tonight Emma sleeps in her own bed and she doesn't have to watch us fight."
Victoria looked at her sister.
Claire stood and picked up her bag.
"Come on," Claire said quietly.
"You can stay with me."
Victoria didn't move for a moment.
She looked at Daniel with an expression he couldn't fully read — part anger, part grief, part something that might have been relief.
Then she walked past him without a word.
He heard them in the hallway.
The sound of a coat being taken from the hook.
The front door opening.
Then quiet.
He went outside to get Emma.
She was still folding her piece of paper.
She had made it into something that was almost a boat.
"Can we go in now?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said.
"We can go in."
She took his hand and they walked inside together.
She didn't ask where Victoria was.
That night, after Emma was asleep, Daniel sat at the kitchen table with his phone and the solicitor's card Dr.
Holt had given him.
He turned the card over twice.
Then he dialed.
The phone rang four times before a woman answered.
"This is Rachel Gould."
"My name is Daniel Marsh," he said.
"I need some advice about my daughter."
"Of course," she said.
"Tell me what's happened."
May you like
He took a breath.
And he told her everything.
