LEGEND

A short story Elissa Soave

- Elissa Soave

irsten was already standing outside waiting for him in her dinosaur coat, toe tapping. ‘Sorry, sweetheart,’ he said as he threw open the car door. ‘I was working and I lost track of time.’

His daughter's lips were a thin line of disappointment. Her mother’s expression, perfected by their nine-year-old. No point in trying to explain that his agent had threatened to drop him if he didn’t come up with the first three chapters of his new novel pronto.

‘Did someone empty their bin into your car?’

‘It's not that bad,’ he said, though she had a point. As well as the usual empty KFC boxes and Subway wrappers, there was a clutch of index cards covered with his scrawl and scattered all over the back seat — his latest failed attempt to kickstart ideas.

‘And it smells funny,’ said Kirsten, kicking aside the fast food dbris. ‘Mummy's got a new car.’

‘Has she?’

‘Yes. Her car smells of lemon.”

‘I bet,’ said Richard. They drove off, windscreen wipers racing across the glass. By the time they reached the park, the swings were dripping with rain.

‘But you promised.’ Kirsten’s bottom lip trembled.

‘I can't help the weather, sweetheart. Are you hungry? We could get chicken nuggets?’

‘Chicken nuggets? Mummy wouldn’t—’

‘Mummy’s not here, is she? This is Daddy’s day.’

He’d almost cancelled it, he thought guiltily, before realising he’d be giving up his one precious afternoon with his daughter only to carry on staring at his screen. He pulled his attention back to Kirsten.

‘Chicken nuggets it is then.”

The place was busy, the counter surrounded by JustEat drivers doomscrolling, and the tables packed with fractious kids and Sunday dads. He felt a rush of affection for his daughter as she slid on the greasy floor and blushed that tomato-red only the young can achieve. He shot daggers at the two boys staring over and whispering from the next table. He was determined to redeem the day.