She said: “Daddy was on his other phone again.”
And I said: “Don’t be silly, love. Daddy’s only got one phone.”
I lied to my eight-year-old about a thing I had photographed in my own utility room eight days earlier, and I did it because I did not want her anywhere near it, and I was proud of myself for it at the time.
And she took that correction and sat on what she had heard for a day and a half, and only brought it out in a car park when she thought we were about to drive back to the house.
That child had to decide to disobey me to say it.
Eight years old, in a car, having been told on the Monday that she was being silly.
And the thing I have not got round, and have been going at since the January with a woman called Halla, is what she actually said to me in that car park.
