What Remains by Garrett Leigh Page B

to deliver Indie home to her mother. Indie was quiet on the journey, tired out after talking Rupert’s ear off for most of the day. Her incessant questions, which ranged from scarily astute to plain bizarre— Do clams bark like dogs, Daddy? —usually melted him into a biased father’s puddle of goo, but as the bus rumbled along London’s brightly lit streets, he was glad of the break. He’d been dreading Christmas for months, but now that it was over, the looming new year frightened him more, absorbing his thoughts as Indie dozed in his arms. Jodi’s primary doctor had informed him on Christmas Eve that Jodi would be ready for discharge by January sixth, which left Rupert ten days to figure out what the hell they were going to do.
    Or, rather, what the hell he was going to do. Jodi’s doctors and social workers had agreed to release him into Rupert’s care with ongoing outpatient support, and Sophie had volunteered to look after him when Rupert had to work, coordinating her days at the nursery with his shifts, but even with Briggs putting him on day shifts with only two overnights a month, life was going to be tough. And then there was the money. Jodi had earned a small fortune as a web designer, but he’d been self-employed and the savings they’d had were about to run out. Any compensation Jodi was due from the accident would take years to come through, and the paltry carer’s allowance the state had offered Rupert barely covered the gas bill.
    And that was just the half of it. What the fuck was he going to do about Indie? With Jodi still rendered mute and unresponsive by his injuries, there was no way Rupert could bring her to the Tottenham flat anymore. He couldn’t bear it, and he knew the Jodi he remembered would never allow her to see him that way.
    Rupert stepped off the bus in Wembley with a heavy heart. Saying good-bye to Indie was always hard, but with her off to her grandma’s place in Wales for the New Year, it would be more than a week before he saw her again, and by then he had no idea where he’d be taking her.
    The knowledge that he’d only grown used to seeing Indie so much because of the home Jodi had given them both cut deep, but he’d run out of time to worry about it. Jen opened her front door with her usual stony scowl and held out her hand for Indie’s bag.
    “Has she had dinner?”
    “Hello to you too,” Rupert said mildly. “Yeah, we had pizza.”
    “Pizza on Boxing Day? Nice. Indie, go upstairs and brush your teeth.” With Indie inside, Jen started to close the door.
    Rupert caught it before it shut in his face. “Can we sort out January’s dates while I’m here? I’ve got my shifts.”
    “Really? Now?” Jen’s sneer morphed into the irritated frown she saved for Rupert. “You’d better come in, then.”
    Rupert followed Jen and Indie into the plush town house they shared with Jen’s latest squeeze—a mild-mannered banker with more money than sense, who was rarely around when Rupert brought Indie home.
    Indie disappeared upstairs while Jen led Rupert to the kitchen and retrieved a diary from a drawer. “You can have her the second and fourth weekends. What weekdays do you want?”
    Rupert breathed a silent sigh of relief. Not having Indie overnight until the second weekend of the new year gave him some breathing space. He handed Jen a list of possible afternoons he could take Indie out for tea.
    Jen studied them, keeping him waiting long enough to remind him that she called the shots. “These look fine, but I’ll have to check with Roger. I’ll email you.”
    “Fine. I put January’s maintenance in your account this morning.”
    Jen raised an eyebrow. Rupert had never missed a payment, but he’d been a few days late more times than he cared to admit, and never ever early. “What’s the occasion?”
    Rupert shrugged. “Just getting things in order. I’ve got a lot going on.”
    “Your boy toy out of hospital yet?”
    “What do you care?” Rupert glanced