“Daddy, Arty’s chewed Freya’s head again, and her face is all squished!”

I have a very hyperactive little girl who thinks she’s a teenager and a one-year-old boy with cannibalistic tendencies. Would you like to save my sanity and join us at the beach?

“I’m coming, Ivy,” I call out as I exit the toilet where I was escaping for a quick five minutes. Is that terrible? Do other parents lock themselves in the loo for a breather?

Now, before you get ahead of yourself, Ivy was playing in her bedroom, and Arthur was in his playpen. I didn’t just leave them and lock the door. In fact, I didn’t even shut the door fully, which is why I can see Ivy barrelling down the hallway towards me just as my phone buzzes in the pocket of my shorts.

“Look, Daddy. Look at what he’s done to her!”

She thrusts the drool covered doll into my stomach and then stands with her hands on her hips.

“How did he get hold of her if he’s in his playpen?” I ask as I wipe off the excess spittle and begin trying to reshape her plastic face.

“I asked him to look after her for me while I cooked our dinner in my kitchen.”

Of course, she did. My little girl is a carer and is always trying to look after everyone.

Just like her Mother.

“Well, I think I have her fixed,” I say, handing over a still slightly deformed Freya while tugging my phone from the confines of my pocket.

Hmm, would he try to eat me? That’s my only concern. A wannabe teen I can handle, but I may have to draw the line at a flesh-eating child.

I huff out a laugh at her reply and catch Ivy’s eye as she stares me down.

“Is that Nanna on the phone?”

“No.”

“Grampy?”

“Nope.”

“Uncle Iz?”

“No, it’s nobody you know.”

Her face scrunches up as she processes this information and then she asks, “Well, if I don’t know them, how do you, and why are they making you smile?”

She’s got me there.

“It’s Daddy’s friend, and they want to come to the beach with us if that’s okay with you?”

She mulls this information over for a few seconds and then questions, “What’s his name?”

“It’s a her.”

“Your friend is a girl?”

“A lady, yes.”

I’m not sure where this new line of questioning is going.

“Does she wear bras?”

Okay, then. Where’s my mother when I need her?

“I’m not sure you need to know that, Ivy.”

“I’ll ask her when I see her,” she replies helpfully. “What’s her name? Is it Freya like my dolly?”

She looks down at the toy doll in her arms.

“No, it’s Halle.”

“I don’t like that name.”

“Well I think it’s a pretty name, so please don’t say that to Halle when you meet her.”

“Nanna told me you should always be honest. Fibbers are naughty.”

When did this turn into a conversation about lying?

“Nanna’s right, but we also mustn’t hurt other’s feelings. You wouldn’t like it if someone said they didn’t like your name, would you Princess?”

“But my name’s pretty. Mummy said she chose it for me.”

My heart lurches, and I step forward and crouch down to her height, ignoring the buzz of my phone with another incoming text.

“She did choose it for you and do you know why?”

She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. Her big, innocent eyes, identical to her mother’s, are fixed on mine desperate to hear another piece of information that connects her to Laura.

“There’s a plant that’s called Ivy, and it grows all year round, winter or summer. It grows and climbs and sometimes goes so far up tall buildings that it looks like it can reach the sky.”

Her eyes widen as she absorbs everything I’m saying, and I know this will be something she is going to remember and want to talk about again and again in the way only small children can.

“We were on holiday exactly nine months before you were born,” I continue, breaking the story down into child-friendly wording. “And the little cottage we stayed at was covered in the greenest of green ivy. We never thought we’d get to have you so soon, so when your Mummy found out she was pregnant with you, she told me she thought that that little cottage must have been magic and if you were a little girl that we should call you Ivy.”

I can see her little mind working overtime as she processes the story I just shared.

“So, I’m magic?” she asks at length.

“Yes, of course, you are. You’re our magical, Princess Ivy.”

“Is Halle magic too?”

Well, that came out of left field.

I thought about her question and the best way to respond, and as I mulled over my reply my phone buzzed yet again.

“Yeah,” I answered honestly because otherwise I’d get ratted out to Nanna for lying. “Halle is magical but not in the same way as you are, Princess Ivy. You’re magical because you’re half me, and half your Mummy, and that makes up a whole you. There’ll never be another Princess Ivy. That’s all you, kiddo. That’s what makes you magical.”

Satisfied with my reply, she gives me a beaming smile and before she skips away back to her bedroom she says, “And you’re magical too Daddy. Now I have to go and get ready for the beach. I don’t want to be late for your new friend.”

I watch my little girl as she disappears down the hall and into her room. Moments later I hear the zip of her beach bag as she likely begins to fill it with dozens of things that I’ll have to sneak out of it before leaving.

My knees creak as I push up to stand, and I shake out my legs before pulling out my phone to check my messages.

Sorry. I maybe shouldn’t have called your child ‘flesh-eating’ but you mentioned the cannibalism first. Does this mean my invitation has been revoked?

And the next one reads:

Okay, I’m starting to worry I’ve really insulted you and your children. If I say I’d love to come to the beach with you guys, can we maybe overlook the whole ‘baby zombie’ comment?

And before I have chance to respond, another text comes through.

Shit. I promise I really like kids, even flesh-eating ones. You can’t invite me to the beach and then not let me come. That’s a bigger offence than mine. After all, you started it.

She’s cute when she’s panicked, and I could drag this out a little longer, but I really want to spend time with her. Although I hadn’t planned the whole ‘meet my kids’ thing so soon, being a single dad with no family visiting means it’s a beach date or inviting her over when the kids are in bed. I don’t know why, but that sort of makes me feel like I’m hiding her from them, and them from her, and I’ll never keep anything as important as Halle from my children.

He’s allergic to broccoli. Well, when I say allergic, he spits that stuff out like it’s burnt his mouth, so maybe if you rubbed it all over beforehand, he’d be less inclined to have a munch on your body parts. Just a tip.

She replies immediately, and I have to chuckle at her text. I can’t wait to see her again, and where that feeling scared the shit out of me before, now I’m embracing it. The fact we’ve been able to lighten the interaction between us after beginning on such an intense footing is testament to her openness. This girl astounds me. This girl beguiles me.

Good to know. What time should I meet you?

You have thirty minutes to roll around in as much green stuff as possible and we’ll meet you there. Or we can pick you up on the way?

I’m cleaning up Arthur when her reply comes through.

Operation green stuff complete. I’ll meet you there just in case the broccoli doesn’t work, and I have to flee for my life.

Twenty minutes later I’ve wrangled both Arthur and Ivy into the car, emptied out over half of the stuff that Ivy put in her bag without too much fuss, and packed a small picnic. Who said men couldn’t multitask?

In another ten minutes, we’re pulling up on the small side road that leads to our favourite beach. With Ivy holding my hand, Arthur on my hip and the overstuffed beach bag across my shoulder, we make our way to our play date with Halle.

“Daddy,” Ivy giggles excitedly as soon as our feet hit the sand. “Look over there, it’s that lady from before, and she’s covered in green stuff.”

I hoist Arthur further up my hip and turn to look in the direction Ivy is pointing.

There, standing underneath a woven grass parasol is Halle.

Her arms shimmer with green, glitter body paint, as do her toned legs and the V that’s exposed by the low dip of her shirt. In her hair, instead of the expected flower, are random sprigs of fresh broccoli and stuck all over her white shirt are scrunched up balls of green crepe paper.

She looks like a shimmering, jolly green giant, and my heart skips in my chest, a wave of something unnameable fluttering through my body.

In years to come, I know I will look back at this moment as the one, but, right now, I do the only thing I can, and I laugh. I laugh so hard that Arthur wriggles to get away from my rumbling body.

“What?” She innocently asks as we approach, me still chuckling heartily, Ivy’s mouth agog the closer we get to Halle’s green and glowing monstrosity, and Arthur completely oblivious to everything but the sea.

“I was only following instructions, plus, I take survival advice very seriously.”

“I can see that,” I nod earnestly. “And I’m not sure I’m going to forget it anytime soon, but, just in case…”

I place Arthur carefully on the sand and tug my phone from my pocket.

“How about a picture for posterity?”

“Don’t you dare-”

“Too late,” I interject while snapping a dozen quick photos.

“Daddy, daddy,” Ivy calls excitedly. “Take my photo with the green lady too please?”

“With pleasure, Princess Ivy,” I reply with a smirk. The words are spoken to my little girl but my eyes lock with the woman before me, and I swear, even under all that green gunk I can see her blush from my heated stare.

“Ivy,” I say, after a few more snaps. “This is Halle, my friend.”

“Hi, Halle,” Ivy says sweetly, reaching up to place her hand in Halle’s. “You have a really pretty name.”

That feeling, the one that took flight inside me only moments ago, doubles when I see my brave little girl beaming up at the woman I’ve just introduced as my friend.

I want there to be more than that between us, but I’m willing to wait, as long as it takes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ivy,” Halle replies, bending to get down to Ivy’s level. “Would you like to help me wash off all this green stuff in the water?”

Ivy looks at the glittery paint all over Halle’s skin and nods eagerly. “I can help. I’m good at helping. My daddy says I’m the best.”

I watch with a steadily swelling heart as they walk hand in hand down towards the sea. Ivy chatting Halle’s ears off the entire way there and I swear I hear the question ‘Do you wear a bra?’ before they’ve even hit the water.

“What did you think, little man?” I ask the chubby little boy at my feet who, in the short time we’ve been here has gotten sand everywhere.

“Do you think Halle is a pretty name too? Because I think she’s beautiful.”