Free I Hope You Dance by Beth Moran

I’ve seen pictures of them. You can get them with four-poster beds, rugs and things to make them really luxurious. We could put a coffee table and cushions in there; leave them a lovely meal and some chocolates.”
    â€œOooh.” Ana Luisa’s eyes shone. “Like an Arab prince and his beautiful bride. This is a wonderful idea, Ruth! I can picture this… it looks good!”
    Emily clutched my hand. “Yes. With millions of flowers in there. And candles.”
    â€œCandles in a tent? Isn’t that a fire hazard? They could get all excited and knock one over, and then that would be the end of that.” Ellie mimed getting excited and knocking over a candle.
    â€œStop miming; I can’t see you in the dark. It’s rude,” Emily huffed.
    â€œI’m getting excited and knocking a candle over. You can imagine it in your head. Now I’m putting out the flames with the sheet.” Ellie pretended to choke on the smoke.
    â€œIf candles are no good, we could string up loads of fairy lights.”
    â€œAnd we would need some sort of heater, and a little cool box filled with treats like strawberries and cream.” I considered what else. “They’d have to use the bathroom in the house – that’s the only thing.”
    â€œSorry, Ruth. Has no one told you where the bathroom is?” Lois had crept up behind me with a tray of drinks. “Rupa, can you grab those mints you brought while I show Ruth to the loo?”
    I followed Lois inside to the downstairs bathroom, which also contained a shower cubicle. Problem solved. We would just make that area of the house off limits to the children for the night.
    By unspoken agreement, we said nothing about our yurt plans to Lois. I sat back in my chair and sipped my coffee, watching the easy conversation between these possible new friends and feeling a tiny spark of something strange and wonderful mixed up in my belly among the noodles and black bean chicken. I named it hope.
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    Saturday was a sharp jolt back into reality. I took Maggie school uniform shopping in Nottingham, trying not to let her see how much it cost me, mentally and in pounds and pence, to kit her out for the new term. I wanted her to fit in, to feel confident and look good, but that came at a price. It was a whole extra type of grief, having to scour shops for sale items, say no to a thirty pound school bag, try to balance shoes that would last the year with the scant pennies in my purse. Two years ago all this had been of little or no consideration. I tried to push down the anger I felt towards Fraser for leaving his daughter in this situation. Tried to hide from Maggie how much it hurt to have to say no. Thought about the cheque from Dad, hidden in a shoe-box at the back of my wardrobe.
    By late afternoon, we were about done. Maggie, who had been cooperative but uncommunicative, suggested we stop and have a drink.
    I shook my head, my hands beginning to tremble. Two cups of coffee seemed like a ludicrous waste of non-existent money.
    â€œWhy don’t we go home and I’ll make us one there?”
    Clang. The shutter in front of Maggie’s face slammed down. She turned away, her offer of forgiveness spurned, and began clomping back towards the car park.
    Rats. I resisted the urge to start pulling out my hair. I hated this. Hated having to scrimp and worry and scuttle about the shops with hunched shoulders, always, always, always thinking about money.
    â€œAll right.” I hurried after Maggie and stopped in front of her. “I would love to have a drink with you. Here. In town. You pick somewhere.”
    The cost of half an hour chatting with my daughter, without her checking her phone once? Priceless.

Chapter Six
    When the alarm went off on Tuesday morning, it felt as though a bear was sitting on my chest. I lay there for a long time, ignoring the ticking of the clock, my eyes squinched tightly shut against the beams of sunlight