Chapter 7: Interlude One – A Worried Dada

Interlude One - A Worried Dada

Roger carefully shut the door to Irene’s house with a click, then he turned to the light of his heart.

Currently, that light was clearly unamused. “Really?” she asked.

“What?” he said, feigning ignorance. It wouldn’t work, of course. His darling was too clever by half, and she knew him besides. Still, maybe he could soften the blow a little. She stared, a hand going to rest on her hip in a way he knew all too well. “Come now, Tessa,” he murmured.

She allowed him to pull her close. It amazed him, even now, after several years together, just how light and small she was. Smog masks were lowered and they kissed. It was a quick, caste thing, but welcome all the same.

Kissing in public was somewhat in poor taste. but he didn’t care. Doing the same in front of a child was taboo, and his little mushroom would no doubt ask all sorts of inappropriate questions

He didn’t feel like explaining anything like that to a child. No doubt Tessa would make him do it too.

Tessa pulled up her smog mask to hide her smile. “How are we going to afford Martha’s?” she asked.

“It’s only a pence a week, we can manage it,” he said.

“That pence could be going into finding a better place,” she said.

They started walking. Eventually they’d need to split apart. The Jerricks and Sons factory was closer to the Gutter than where Tessa worked. Still, they had a few minutes together. Her hand slipped into his between one step and another, and he squeezed.

Tessa had familiar hands, callouses on her fingertips and over the pad of her palm. Her hands were always a little cold, but he liked that.

“We’ll find a better place,” he said. “I promise.”

She glanced up to him, and he knew that her lips were pursed in that little frown she wore when annoyed by something, but her eyes... Deep and blue, with a few little specks in them. He could get lost in those, especially when he could feel the love beneath the churning ocean.

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Once, for the longest time, he thought they were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

Recently his opinion had shifted. His Little Mushroom had the same eyes, but they’d glimmer the faintest green sometimes, when the light caught them.

Roger had always been a humbly proud man. Proud of his work, of his Tessa, of what he could do with his hands.

He... he wasn’t sure if pride was what he felt every evening when he came home and swung his child around, when she gurgled and laughed, when she repeated everything he said with the most adorable little frown on her face, as if every fumbled word was the most important thing her little ears had ever caught.

There was a welling in his chest. Pride, certainly, and love, like he felt for Tessa, and fear too, every time his Little Mushroom coughed, or when she slept fitfully. Fear for what would be.

But he was a hard working man. He would do what had to be done, put in the hours, make the sacrifices.

And at the end of the day, his Little Mushroom would be a happy child, with a better life than he could ever have for himself.

“What are you thinking about now?” Tessa asked.

He chuckled. “I’m thinking our Little Mushroom will get into all sorts of trouble in the future.”

His wife poked him in the ribs with an elbow. “Don’t you go teaching her anything troublesome, you brute,” she said.

Their eyes met and they both laughed as they continued on, through the fog and rain, through the thick and the thin. He looked forward to seeing that glimmer of sunshine that would change the sky and brighten his day, but if it didn’t come, then he had his own little corner of brightness to live for.

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