Free Numbers 3: Infinity by Rachel Ward

don’t want sympathy from her. ‘That’s going to be difficult for you.’
    ‘We’ll be all right,’ I say. ‘Mia’s very good.’
    ‘Who do you think she takes after? You or her dad?’
    This is dangerous territory, somewhere I don’t want to go.
    Officially, Adam’s Mia’s dad. That’s what I told the nosy social worker who found me living in the squat in London. It was just a spur of the moment thing, but it was easier than telling the truth. Although, it’s an obvious lie if you stop to think about it – Mia’s skin’s darker after two years in the open and her hair is curly, almost afro, but it’s blonde and she’s got blue eyes, all the Halligan features, which is what she is. Halligan through and through.
    ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I don’t look for that. She’s just her. She’s her own person.’
    ‘Don’t you and Adam play that game? Whose nose? Whose ears?’
    ‘No,’ I block. ‘We don’t play games.’
    She must have sussed us, surely, but she doesn’t follow it up.
    ‘What about her talents? She’s precocious in her speech for two. And it says in my notes that you’re an artist – is that something Mia’s good at too?’
    An artist. I’d pretty much forgotten that side of me. I haven’t picked up a pencil, or brush, or even a lump of charcoal for two years.
    ‘You painted a mural, a vision of the Chaos, didn’t you? That’s pretty powerful stuff.’
    Something else I’m uncomfortable talking about. My dreams, my nightmares – they’re best forgotten. I don’t want anyone looking inside my head.
    ‘Where did that image come from, Sarah? How did you know what was going to happen?’
    ‘That was two years ago. What’s the point of talking about it?’
    She puts the file down on the desk in front of her. I try to look at it, and she moves it out of my view.
    ‘But it’s fascinating, Sarah. You saw the future. You were able to express it. Where did that vision come from?’
    ‘Nowhere.’
    ‘Oh, come on. It must have come from somewhere, you didn’t just dream it up.’
    She’s got under my skin now. She’s pushing me and I want to push back.
    ‘That just shows what you know,’ I say. ‘I did dream it up. That’s where I got the picture.’ I’m looking her in the eyes now, defiant. She’s sitting on the edge of her chair, leaning forward.
    ‘You had a dream?’
    ‘Yes. The same one, over and over. Every night.’
    ‘And you saw Adam and Mia, and the city in ruins and houses in flames?’
    ‘Yes. Yes. All of that, but I don’t see it any more. It’s gone. It’s past.’
    ‘What do you dream now, Sarah?’
    ‘Nothing. My dreams have stopped.’
    I’ve lost Mia in this cold and lonely place. I scream her name …
    ‘You don’t dream anything at all?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘And Mia, how does she fit into this?’
    ‘She doesn’t. She’s my daughter, that’s all.’
    I want this to stop now.
    ‘What does she see, do you think? Does she see numbers, death dates like her dad, or visions like you?’
    I scoop Mia up from the floor onto my lap. She brings the doll with her.
    ‘Nothing. She’s just a baby.’
    Marion smiles, but it’s only her mouth that’s moving. Her eyes are cold and searching.
    ‘More than a baby, Sarah. She’s a toddler. She can talk. Let’s see, shall we? Perhaps she’ll draw for us.’
    She gets up and walks round the coffee table.
    ‘Leave her alone,’ I say. This is getting out of order. I can cope with questions about me, but Mia’s nothing to do with anyone else.
    ‘I’m not touching her.’
    ‘You know what I mean.’
    ‘Let’s try her with these.’
    Marion reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a wedge of paper and some coloured wax crayons.
    ‘Mia,’ she says. ‘Can you choose a pretty colour and draw me a picture?’
    Mia looks at her, pulls a face and buries her head in myshoulder. She still hasn’t forgiven Marion for yesterday.
    Undaunted, Marion puts the crayons and paper on the floor.