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days last month, after another fight about Denise, Ellen had stopped eating. Worried she was on the verge of an eating disorder, he’d been about to coax her to the doctor when she’d started eating normally again.
    She was silent for so long now he thought for a moment she’d moved away from the door, climbed into bed perhaps. About to walk away himself, he heard a smaller, softer voice, muffled but still audible.
    “I want my mum.”
    All his anger fled. His shoulders slumped, his hands unclenched, he leaned his head against the door. “I know you do, sweetheart. I know.” He could hear her sobbing begin. “Ellen, open the door please. Come out here and talk to me. Let me give you a hug. Denise and Lily will be here any minute—” The wrong thing again.
    The sobbing stopped. “I don’t care, I told you. I don’t want to meet them again and I don’t want to spend Christmas with them. Ever!”
    His temper flowed back, patience and understanding instantly wiped away. “Fine. Fine, Ellen. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear. You’ve made your bed, and now you can lie in it. Neither of us will have Christmas with Denise and her family. You win. We’ll stay here and we’ll have a horrible lonely time and I hope that will make you happy, because nothing else seems to!”
    His shout was met with silence. He felt a rush of fury combined with self-loathing. Oh, yes, he was really being the adult in this relationship. He placed his hand on the door, took a deep breath, spoke again, in quieter, calmer tones. “Ellen, I’m sick of this. Day after day, all this fighting. But I can’t do it any more tonight. Stay in there, Ellen. Stay in there until you realize just how hurtful and selfish you’re being”— he hesitated for just a moment—“and how much your mother would hate to see it. Think about that.”
    He heard her gasp, followed immediately by more sobbing. He’d gone too far. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Ellen?” No answer. “Ellen?” Nothing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for saying that. But—” He ran out of words then, too. Holding his hand against the door for one more minute, knowing there was no sense knocking again, no sense trying to talk reason to her, even less chance of stopping her crying, he had no option but to walk away, to go and sit in the living room and stare out across the skyline.
    Denise was due any moment. He’d promised her everything was going to be all right with Ellen, that she was just going through a stage. He’d sensed Denise’s subtle withdrawal from him recently, perhaps a slight doubt about him, about them, the thought that perhaps it was all too much trouble, more trouble than it was worth. It was then he’d realized how much she meant to him. He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t want to upset Ellen. But he was in an impossible situation. It seemed he couldn’t please one without upsetting the other. And what a mess he’d made of it all just now.
    For God’s sake, he thought, standing again and pouring himself a glass of wine from the bottle chilling ready for Denise. He was a businessman. He had a staff of forty working efficiently and profitably for him. He’d managed equally successful offices in Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Sydney. He was renowned for his quick decision-making, his strong work ethic, for being tough but fair. He had enviable client lists, more work than his agency could handle. Yet he was no match for a twelve-year-old girl, even if she was his adored daughter. What else had his mother said to him in her recent pep talk? Think of it as a campaign, darling. Step by step, battle by battle, you’ll both get to Armistice Day eventually. If he had just won this latest battle, it was a hollow victory.
    The doorbell rang. Finding a smile from somewhere, he walked over, trying to decide how to break the news of this latest setback to Denise.
    I N HER ROOM , Ellen didn’t know whether she wanted to stop crying or sob even louder.