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When Jack Worthing moved to the neighborhood, he had been delighted to discover many of his neighbors also had kids. He was encouraged to learn a boy from his daughter’s class lived in one of the neighboring houses, and a girl, just one year older than Margaret right next door to him. To Jack, it was a promising start and he hoped his daughter would adjust well. She needed it, after her mother left them both. It was a hard change, but ultimately, Jack decided they both needed a new start, and that took form in the move.
Margaret spent most of her time outdoors, which Jack assumed should have made him happy enough, but she played alone. Her dolls were her only company, throwing miniature tea parties with her miniature friends. He never saw her with any of the kids that lived in the culdesac. He wasn’t sure if she had ever introduced herself to any of them. She was of the age where she still played with toys, but would be embarrassed for her parent to schedule a play date. He figured he’d let her decide when she was ready to reach out. The house was still new and most days Jack worked on unpacking and turning it into a home. Maybe once they settled Margaret would be more open to meeting her neighbors. Maybe she just needed to see she was not about to be uprooted again and that these people she met would be here to stay.
But time went on and summer came to its end and still no change. She showed no signs of loneliness, perfectly content with the company of her dolls, but Jack worried. She was quieter and more withdrawn than she had once been. She did well in school, but her smiles always felt fake. He wasn’t sure what to do for her, and that was the hardest part of it all.
***
Jack squinted, trying to decipher the untidy handwriting that was Eleanor Worthing’s - or did she go by a different last name these days? He tried not to think about it in favor of focusing on the instructions, the ingredients to make her famous cherry pie. It was Margaret’s favorite and if she could not have her mother, he could at least give Margaret her pie. She didn’t take much when she left, Eleanor that was. A suitcase full of clothes, a chunk of money and the rest she left to him, not even a note to say goodbye.
Jack wasn’t much of a baker. He could cook just fine and kept himself and Margaret fed, but baking was a different story. It was too finicky. One ounce too many and the pastry turned out wrong. He already had two failed attempts under his belt, but he was determined to surprise his daughter with a cold glass of milk and a steaming slice of her favorite pie when she came back in from playing. He worried he was not going to have enough time, thinking any minute now she would tire of her games and come inside for a reprise. Jack glanced out the window that gaped out across the yard, but she was nowhere to be seen. He looked again, this time longer. Nothing but grass and shrubbery and a single doll.
Jack’s pulse quickened. He left the half mixed pastry and a warm oven in favor of the front door, throwing it open. He was elbow deep in flour, but Jack didn’t care about presentation. He heard voices from the neighboring lawn and decided to ask for help. Standing on the unmarked divide that split his side of the lawn from his neighbors, Jack saw her.
“Yeh got te keep yer arms straight,” The Scotsman that was his neighbor instructed, while Margaret stood poised before him.
“It’s hopeless,” Margaret wilted, in a lack of confidence.
“Yeh getting better,” He reassured her. “It just takes a bit more practice.”
Jack was quiet in his observations. He had seen his neighbor around and about his own property, but never properly made introductions. In a small town like Wellington Wells, though, most people already knew each other, and such was the truth with Jack and his neighbor. Oliver Starkey, he knew his name to be. He was a Veteran of war and now a secretary to General Byng. He was originally from Scotland. A dancer, Jack noted, he did not know.
Ollie demonstrated what Jack assumed was the move he was trying to teach Margaret. He moved with a confidence that suggested he had done it countless of times before, but a slight awkward wobble implied that it had been awhile since he had last practiced, and maybe he had put on some weight since then. He stuck the landing and held his head high with pride, regardless. It earned laughter from Margaret. Jack blinked. It had been awhile since he heard her laugh like that. Jack realized he was smiling. When was the last time he had done that? Not since Eleanor left.
He watched as Margaret imitated Ollie, but lost her balance and fell into the grass. She laughed off the blunder and Ollie helped her up again. He could have watched forever except - the oven. Shit, he had left it on hadn’t he? Now that he knew his daughter was safe, his concern was keeping his house from potentially burning down. Jack turned heel and headed back inside.
***
Nights were hard in a cold bed alone, but at least it was no longer the bed he had once shared with Eleanor. He liked to think having a new space to live in was helping him move on, but mostly it did best not to think about it.
He tucked Margaret in every night, not wanting her to feel the same sensation of abandonment he felt every night. Plus, fussing over Margaret was the perfect distraction.
“Could I have a story?” Margaret asked. Jack beamed a warm smile.
“Aren’t you getting a little old for that?” He replied. Margaret would soon be turning eleven, and while she still enjoyed her dolls, Jack knew she would not be a little girl forever. He did not want to fight the change, worried that if he held onto her youth for too long it would only stunt her growth.
“Please?” She begged, folding her hands and giving a little pout. “You always do the best voices.” She wiggled excitedly in her bedsheets. Jack couldn’t refuse that. It was good practice for his acting, after all. He ambled towards her bookshelf and plucked a small chapter book from the options.
“I think this one we were reading?” He held up the cover to show Margaret. She nodded, biting her lip in excitement. She shuffled over to make room for him to perch on the side of her bed. He tucked a doll in closer towards her, affectionately. Something was off about her collection of dolls, a small gap that did not feel right. “Where’s Molly?” Jack asked. Margaret always liked to sleep close to all of her dolls, but she was one short.
“Oh, I left her at Ollie’s,” Margaret answered. A small frown tugged at Jack’s lips at the informality.
“You mean Mr. Starkey’s,” He corrected her. Margaret shrugged, indifferent.
“He told me I could call him Ollie.” She took attention to one of her dolls, stroking her fingers over its hair. “It’s okay. I wanted him to have company,” She explained. Jack was quiet.
He recalled a time when Margaret had accidentally left one of her dolls at her grandma’s house, who lived well over an hour’s drive away. He promised she was in good hands and they would pick her up in a week when he went out to visit her again, but Margaret would not stop crying until he made a special trip out there to fetch the doll for her. To so casually let go of one of her dolls now felt odd, though she was younger back then. Maybe she was finally growing up, becoming mature.
“You spend a lot of time over there,” Jack observed. It bothered him for a reason he couldn’t understand. Maybe it was because it seemed that Ollie got to see his daughter more than he did.
“He’s very funny,” Margaret commented.
“I suppose I never really spoke to him,” Jack spoke, realizing his words were true. He lived in a good neighborhood, he believed, but he was trusting his daughter in a stranger’s hands and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It seemed to him like introductions were long overdue.
***
Jack hadn’t had a gig since before the move and it was starting to eat deeply into his savings. Moving was expensive, food was expensive, gas was expensive and he had nothing to combat the expenses - until now. Finally, an audition. While Margaret was busy in school, Jack spent the past days staring into a mirror, repeating phrases of his monologue and making expressive faces. He needed to perfect it. A lot rested on securing the role.
On the day of the audition, he sent her off to school with a wide grin that promised her he was going to make her proud. He lingered in the mirror for a bit longer after practice, perfecting the way he styled the pomade into his hair. He learned in the business that half of the audition was looking the part, so he had to look his best. He went over the monologue a few more times and then it was time to head out. Margaret would be home soon and when he finally met her at home, he wanted to brag of his success.
Something had dropped inside Jack, a cold realization - He wouldn’t be waiting for her at home when she finished school today, he’d be at the audition. Jack had always been there to welcome her home from school. The last time she had returned to an empty house, it had been the day Eleanor had left. He would not put her through a similar situation again. But he needed the gig. He needed money to put food on the table. Absently, he looked out the window. Ollie was there, in a bathrobe, getting his mail. Jack rushed outside to meet him.
“Oi!” Jack called to him.
“Oi yourself,” Ollie indignantly shoved his paper beneath his arm and trundled towards his own house. Jack remained hot on his pursuit.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Jack insisted on talking to him despite the cold shoulder thrown his way. “I’m Jack Worthing...Margaret’s-” Jack was cut off.
“Ahh, Margaret’s Dad, eh?” Ollie finally gave Jack his attention. “Forgive me temper. Skipped lunch and now me sugar is low,” Ollie explained. Jack didn’t pay mind. He didn’t exactly have time to work through formalities.
“Listen. I know Margaret is fond of you. And I really need to be out today when she comes home from school. Could you do me a favor and watch after her while I’m away. It shouldn’t take too long,” Jack explained, trying to keep a polite tone despite knowing how much he was asking of a perfect stranger.
“Don’t see how tha’s much different from most days,” Ollie replied with a hearty laugh. Jack gave a nervous smile. Admittedly, she was over at Ollie’s house most days regardless. This was the first time Jack was asking, though.
“I hate to burden you, Oliver,” Jack was apologetic in his tone. The man’s face twisted into a scowl.
“Call me Ollie,” He insisted. He clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder, the force of which shook the man slightly. “It’s no burden at all,” He turned to walk inwards his house. “I happen to like the lass. Never had kids of me own. Though I s’pose I never got around to gettin married, either,” His words faltered a moment and a silence hung thick in the air. “Ah, look at me gettin misty eyed. I dinny mean to get all emotional on ya. Can’t go livin life full o regrets. An it all worked out now, Margaret coming around.” He could sense it, the loneliness. It echoed in Jack, himself. He did not like to admit it, but he missed Eleanor. Or maybe not Eleanor specifically, but having someone else around. Margaret was great company and he loved being a dad to her, but sometimes he needed an adult, just like she needed to be around people her own age. He needed someone he could share his burdens with. Jack managed a smile.
“I owe you one.”
***
Jack was improving on his pies. It wasn’t precisely the way Eleanor had made them, but Jack liked to think his own twist made them special. In a way, that was better. It was different and different was good these days.
He had more pie than he had mouths to feed, and while Margaret had been grateful for his gift to her, even a little girl had her limits. He had gotten the role he left her alone to audition for and it was about time he properly thanked Ollie for making that possible. It was an adequate excuse to get rid of a pie, too.
“Here to ask me to babysit again, eh?” Ollie answered the door, before any greeting, though a greeting never did come. Jack had learned to expect this behavior from Ollie. He could be rather forward.
“Actually, to thank you for the last time,” Jack corrected him. He lifted the pie, coated in cellophane for the journey next door. “I brought you a pie,” Ollie eyed the pastry.
“Thanks, but I got to watch me sugar,” He declined. He must have noticed the small fall in Jack’s face, for he was quick to change his answer. “Ah, who am I kiddin? I can have a wee bit.”
Ollie put on a pot of tea while Jack found a seat at the table. Ollie wasted little time in digging into the pie, which made Jack feel better about his prior hesitance. He had hoped his pie was as good as he thought it was after all the effort he had put into it. Margaret could be too polite to say anything sometimes, but Ollie he could count on to tell him straight if the pie was rubbish. He wasted little time in clearing his plate, so Jack took that as a good sign.
“It’s hard work, you know, being a single dad.” He spoke. He never really complained to anyone about it before, but since Eleanor left, he had no one to complain to. The other parents on the street were still together. They did not know about the hardship of a split, of raising a child on their own. He worried they judged him for not being able to work things out with his wife. In his defense, she never gave him the chance. He did not realize how bad things were between them until she was gone.
“Ah but you’re doing great!” Ollie came over with the steaming pot of water, pouring it into separate cups to wash down the pie. “Margaret is always going on about yeh. She thinks the world of yeh.”
Jack smiled softly, a hard knot came undone in his chest. Ever since Eleanor left - he worried if he had been enough. Obviously he hadn’t been the husband Eleanor had wanted, but could he be the Dad that Margaret needed? For once since she had left, Jack felt as if his efforts had been validated. “Thank you, Ollie.” He touches Ollie’s hand and gives it a small squeeze. Ollie returns it with a smile, but something is not right. He looks sweaty and nervous. Jack retreats his hand, second guessing his actions. Were they unwelcome? Or did Ollie look too much into his intentions, thinking he meant something else? He didn’t mean anything like that. Did he? Jack wasn’t like that. Or at least he had been so enraptured with Eleanor he never thought too hard about it. Jack swallows hard, shying back into his own space. Ollie’s head drops into his hands and it makes Jack feel worse. “I, umm,” He begins to speak, wanting to voice an apology, but he isn’t sure he means it. He wasn’t sorry. His hand still tingles where it brushed with Ollie’s. He wants to do it again but knows better.
“I think I mighta overdone it,” Ollie speaks, his voice sounding off. It’s quiet, not brash. Jack blinks, looks at the man, unsure of what he means. He’s afraid to speak, feeling as if he already offended and worried the wrong thing said could make it worse. Ollie rises to his feet, he clutches at the table and his gait is odd. Jack fears he is royally pissed off and about to do him harm, but with the next step Ollie takes, he collapses to his knees.
Jack jumps from his seat. “Ollie!”
“Insulin,” The man whimpers.
“I-insulin?” Jack stutters, the word sounding mostly foreign but somehow familiar. That was a type of medicine, he believed. To keep diabetes in check. “Oh!” Finally it clicked.
“In the cabinet...please,” He gave a weak point in the direction. Jack rose to action, feeling his knees wobble with the adrenaline. His fingers fumbled over items in the cabinet, trying to find what looked right. He grabbed the syringe and at Ollie’s instruction, jabbed it in, pushing down on the plunger.
Ollie was quiet, save for the ragged breaths that tore through his chest. Jack didn’t move from where he knelt before Ollie on the kitchen floor.
“You gave me a right found fright,” Jack relayed. Ollie was looking better with each passing minute the insulin did what his body could not. “Oh the pie!” Jack clapped a hand to his face, finally making the connection. He felt terrible knowing that it was his fault for making Ollie unwell.
“Dinny worry about it,” Ollie assured him, slowly returning to his old self. “S’not the first time it happened and it won’t be the last,” He chuckled lightly. Jack was too overwhelmed still to see the humor in it. “My sweet tooth always has a way of tempting me,” He gave his round belly an affectionate pat. At this, Jack managed a cautious laugh.
“Well I’m glad there are no hard feelings,” He spoke. “Don’t know what I would have told Margaret if I accidentally killed you.”
“Kill me?” Ollie erupted into uproarious laughter. “Bah! It’ll take more than a wee pie to do that! And trust me! Many people have tried!” He laughed again, Jack’s own laughter getting drowned out with his.
***
“Can I look now?” Margaret asked, while Jack kept his hands folded over her eyes.
“Not yet, Love,” He answered, as he lead her forwards, guiding her between furniture until he is happy with her placement. “Okay, now.” He removes his hands, allows her to look at her surroundings. They are in the living room, with little difference except where the piano is, there is a one Oliver Starkey, dressed to the nines - or at least as nice as Ollie would dress.
“Happy Birthday, Margaret Dear,” Jack said. He, too, was wearing a suit for the special occasion.
“I don’t understand,” She looked between Ollie and Jack. “What is this?”
“Yer Dad and I put a little something together for ya,” Ollie explained.
“A little two man show, if you will,” Jack finished. Margaret’s curiosity turned into a gentle interest and she patiently took a seat. Ollie struck a few chords on the piano, before turning it into a jolly tune.
Jack performed a set of three short monologues he had written and prepared for the occasion, with Ollie’s accompaniment relaying the tone with music. Most of it was upbeat and comical and much to his joy, he caught Margaret wiggling with laughter in the audience. It felt as if it was his best performance to date, and in a way, it was his most important. She clapped with enthusiasm once they finished, took each other’s hand and together, bowed.
It was not her only gift of the day - a new dress to be shared among her dolls, and his best attempt at making her fairy cakes - but it was the one she seemed to appreciate the most. At the end of the day, and after the rush of sugar had subsided, she was worn out and curled up with Molly sporting her new dress as she was dozing off.
“That was sweet what ya done fer the kid,” Ollie relayed, a glass of Scotch in his hand.
“Well, you helped too,” Jack pointed out. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” He added, looking at Ollie. He looked sleepy with booze. Jack supposed he was starting to feel the gravity of sleep as well.
“It was yer idea,” Ollie argued. He took another swig, this time straight from the bottle, then offered it to Jack. Jack took a page from Ollie’s book and ignored his glass in favor of doing the same.
“I just wanted to see her smile again,” He confessed. He gripped the neck of the bottle, keeping it for just a moment longer. “After my wife...after Eleanor left, she got so serious. She practically grew up overnight, thinking she had to be the woman of the household. I wanted her to be a kid for just a little bit longer. She is still a kid, after all,” Jack relayed. The move hadn’t been easy on her. Uprooting her after something traumatic happened to her maybe wasn’t such a good idea, but through it, she had met Ollie and that was the best thing that could have happened to her, Jack realized. It was the best thing that had happened to him. “She started smiling again when she met you. I can’t even begin to relay the gratitude I feel towards you for that.” Jack passed the bottle back towards him. Ollie accepted it but placed it on the table behind him, ignoring it in favor of Jack. He wrapped an arm around Jack. Jack took the cue to lean in closer. He found himself resting on Ollie’s chest. For all his extra chub, Ollie was very comfortable to rest on.
“I don’t think I am the best person all the time,” Ollie confessed. “It means something to me to do something right, fer once.” He felt Ollie’s fingers in his hair. Jack didn’t like his hair untidy, but as tired as he was, he no longer cared. Plus, it felt nice.
“We make a pretty good team,” Jack commented. If their performance did not prove it, Jack wasn’t sure what would. Ollie laughed, he could feel it vibrate in his chest where Jack rested his head. He lifted it to look at Ollie then, a blissful smile on his lips. The kiss they shared then felt perfectly natural and Jack could not tell who had leaned in first, but they both allowed it to linger for a moment longer.
“Yes we do,” Ollie agreed, once it was over. Jack could have sworn he heard Margaret giggle, but when he turned to look, she was just as they had left her - fast asleep and holding her doll - absolutely precious.