Emma

9:Simon

The illness I had must have been contagious because, within a few days, Emma and Luke were both in bed, poorly, and Laura looked paler and more tired than usual.

We passed time by doing very little. Sleeping in until late, taking the dog for walks, then watching back to back DVDs and TV programmes became a part of my daily routine. When Laura eventually also fell ill, I took on the duties of food and drink supplier, blanket carrier and full-time sympathiser. For me, life became particularly monotonous.

After nearly a week, everybody was back to normal. Emma was the first to spring back, joining me most mornings on my dog-walking journey. On the Friday, when Laura had recovered, we spent at least an hour just throwing sticks and balls for Barney to catch and bring back to us in the park. Emma was especially thrilled when he responded to her calling his name.

"Good doggy!" she squealed, stroking his head quite roughly with one hand. I practically had to drag her away from the park to go home.

Luke was bedridden until Sunday. Even after he was better, his cough stayed with him for days.

After spending half of the summer holidays doing nothing much, I was desperate to have a day spent somewhere other than in the living room or at the park. I searched for a place to go on the laptop and some old brochures, coming up with some possibilities that I could suggest to Laura.

"We need to get out," I said to her one evening. "I don't know about you, but I think Emma and me are fed up of being stuck in the house."

"What are you thinking of?" she replied. It was a while since we were last able to have a worthwhile conversation, alone together.

I thrust a brochure into her hands that I had been reading earlier, watching as she scanned through it before looking up at me again. "Are you sure Emma's okay to be going out yet?" was all she could say.

"She's been coming to the park with me every day," I explained, with a slight edge to my voice that I couldn't completely hide. Laura wasn't the one who had been trapped in the house for days. I was bored out of my wits. Plus, I thought Emma was coming along just fine. "I think she'd really enjoy going out somewhere."

"If you're sure."

I hadn't aimed to sound annoyed, so asked "Where would you like to go?"

"I don't know, You're the one who came up with the idea, so you can pick." She shrugged when I looked at her blankly.

"Can we go tomorrow?" I suggested.

"If you make all the sandwiches and pack the car, then yes!" Playfully sticking her tongue out at me as if to say "ha ha -  you have to do all the hard work", she left the room.

I decided it would be a good day out for everybody if we went to a nearby old house with a small farm. Everybody needed a bit of fresh air, a change of scenery and I wanted a good look around the old building and its rooms. We set off in the morning, the following day.

Undertaking the task of sandwich preparing was easier said than done. There were ham sandwiches to make on wholemeal bread for Laura and me and ham on white bread for Luke and Emma. It sounded like nothing, but when I forgot that Luke refused to eat brown bread, I had to re-make his sandwich and Emma's (because she wanted everything the same as him). I also nearly forgot to make drinks for everyone. After packing everything into the picnic basket I received last Christmas and loading this, along with a picnic blanket, into the car, I was worn out. Everyone else was loaded with energy.

On the journey there, Luke and Emma had fun in the back of the car with Laura as they played a "car spotting" game, whilst I sang along to radio tunes in the front. It was odd hearing so many voices filling a space that was usually much quieter.

"Can anybody find a ... red car?" Laura would ask Luke and Emma.

After about a minute, one of them would cry "I see it! I see it!" and they would be the 'winner'.

It was a holiday classic game – one which normally involved me choosing the colour car and Luke competing against Laura to find it first. He hated losing; however, he found it less upsetting with Emma and I found it a lot less distracting when driving.

When we finally arrived at our destination, the farm was the first place we visited. There were ducks, geese, pigs, goats and donkeys - all of which Emma was very interested in. Laura and I stood back, watching as she and Luke raced off in front, chasing unsuspecting hens and laughing at the funny noises the pigs made.

A man desperately trying to sell ice cream asked Emma "Would you like one?" as she went to look at his stall, to which she replied "yes, please." He then said "you'll have to ask your parents," which gave me a warm feeling inside that felt like something close to pride. At that moment, all I could think was that it would hopefully be the first time of many that people would call Emma my 'daughter'. It made everything seem worthwhile for me.

At lunch time, we ate our picnic under the shade of a tree. The sun made an appearance through the leaves, lighting up everyone's face as we chewed through the food.

Afterwards, we toured the house. The kids weren't really interested in looking at any of the antique furniture or paintings, but amused themselves with a harmless game of hide and seek, until Luke ran head-on into an old woman who gave him a filthy look. After that, they stayed close to Laura and me as we flipped through information booklets and followed the visitor's route around the building.

At the highest floor of the house, a woman was giving another family a talk about the past residents of the house. Unlike all the other rooms, it was dull and more sparingly decorated. I listened into the talk eagerly, beckoning for Laura, Luke and Emma to join me.

"Have you heard about the Abbott ghost?" she was asking the tourists.

"No," a man at the front of the group replied. The others shook their heads.

"Some say that the eldest resident of the house in the eighteenth century – Mr Abbott – haunts the attic of this house today. His death was a rather gruesome one," she began, before faltering when she saw the two young children looking up at her. "Does anybody here believe in ghosts?"

There was a silence as everybody, myself included, looked around to see if there was any reply. The room remained quiet.

"Anyway," the tour guide continued, and then paused again. Suddenly, she turned to face me, giving me a puzzled look. I turned away from her, confused, before realizing she wasn't actually looking at me, she was looking at Emma.

"I believe in ghosts," my new daughter announced.

The woman laughed, as if to say "yes, sure, of course you do sweetie". Other people joined in, myself included. "So what makes you believe in them?" she then asked, in a serious tone of voice.

"There is a ghost in this room," Emma said.

"So, you think you can see ghosts..." she paused, waiting for me to insert her name.

"Emma," I added.

"Can you see Mr Abbott's ghost, Emma?" she asked.

"No," Emma replied, as if it was a ridiculous question. "I can see a ghost, but it isn't his."