Chapter 8
“Mummy,” Nicky said, sitting with his back to Emma while she pulled a tee shirt over her wet hair.
“Mmnnn?” she replied, sitting on the bed to fit her feet into socks.
“What happens at a party?” He turned around, his eyes narrowed and fearful. “I’ve never been to one.”
“Oh, baby.” Emma held her arms out and Nicky bounded across the bed, seeking the safety of her body in his confusion. “We’ve always been too poor to have one, but the friends we had were in the same position, so didn’t have them either.”
“You shouldn’t have said it,” Nicky groaned, his voice muffled into Emma’s chest. “I wish you hadn’t.”
“It’s fine,” Emma reassured him. “I had a tea party for my fifth birthday and enjoyed it.” She closed her eyes and remembered a woman with dark, curly hair which coiled arou
