Louis, for the life of him, can't remember the last time his muscles have ached this much. His fire service training was nothing compared to moving all of this furniture, some of it with a baby on his hip, and he can't wait to go to bed tonight.

He's just leaned against the kitchen counter for a breather when Frankie, his eight month old, starts crying from her pack-and-play cot in the lounge. Fantastic. With a defeated sigh, he walks into the mess of boxes and unplaced furniture that is his lounge.

"Alright, up we go," He mumbles, holding Frankie against his chest. She seems to calm down almost as soon as she's in his arms, and he presses a kiss to her wispy brown hair. "There we are, 's okay. Just needed a bit of attention."

As soon as Frankie calms down, Angelina is trudging into the room from upstairs, looking pale (well, paler than usual). "Daddy, I feel ill," She says weakly.

"Alright, come lay down, love," He nods towards the sofa, placed in the middle of the room. He'll wait until his mum arrives to decide where everything will go, if he does it himself he knows it will end poorly.

Angelina shuffles towards the sofa, the six year old laying her head down flat on the cushion. Shit. Where'd the box of throw pillows go? Louis grabs his jumper, discarded on the floor from when he got too hot moving boxes, and curls it into a ball with his free hand.

"Head up," He orders gently, and Angelina obeys. He places the sweatshirt under her head, and she lays back down. "That will do for now, yeah?"

"Mhm," Angelina closes her eyes.

Louis hates to be putting her through all of this when she already doesn't feel well, but they needed to move closer to his mum. When the girls' mum, Mara, left just a few months after Frankie was born, he was determined to figure it out himself. Then Angelina got diagnosed with leukaemia, and started to undergo chemotherapy, and Louis finally admitted defeat.

His oldest, Clara, is probably upstairs, diligently unpacking her things. She's so good. He tries to remind her often. Carefully, he sits down on the floor next to the sofa, shifting Frankie to his lap.

"What colour are you thinking of painting your new bedroom?" He asks. Sometimes it helps to distract her. Angelina shrugs. "I'm thinking maybe a bright, fluorescent orange?"

Angelina giggles, and Louis can feel himself smile. "Nooo," She says. "I hate orange, Daddy."

"Oh, that's right," Louis nods, giving her a soft grin when she opens her eyes. "Purple's your favourite, innit?"

"Mhm," Angelina nods, lifting her head a little to look up at him. "'N green. That's mummy's favourite."

Louis tries not to let his smile falter. Green indeed was Mara's favourite. He hates green. "That's right," He says quietly, clearing his throat. "Where's your sister? She unpacking her stuff?"

Angelina shakes her head. "I told her I didn't feel well, so she's unpacking mine for me."

"Well, that was nice of her," Louis grins. "Might as well put Frankie to work as well, you 'n me can go get an ice cream or summat."

"Frankie can't even stand up," Angelina laughs, and Louis gapes at her, feigning offense on Frankie's behalf. She's too busy trying to fit her whole fist in her mouth.

"She's working on it," He defends, poking her in the tummy gently. "Isn't that right, petal? You keep eating all those mashed peas, you're going to be on cross country in no time!"

"I think she's going to eat her hand instead," Angelina giggles, eyes big and blue and sparkling. Louis chuckles, watching as Angelina bites her lip. She's quiet for a moment. "Daddy?"

"Yes, love?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Have I got chemotherapy this week?" She asks. Louis sighs softly, nodding.

"On Thursday," He says. Angelina frowns. "So, what're we doing after? Ice cream? Maccies? Pizza?"

"All three?" Angelina suggests with a mischievous grin. Louis can't help but laugh, leaning forward and kissing the top of her head, smooth and free of hair.

"There's an idea," He says. He knows she might be too nauseous after chemo to eat anything, but that doesn't stop him from hoping for the best. The doorbell rings, an unfamiliar sound that makes him jump a little. "Oh, that must be Nan."

"Nan!" Angelina exclaims. Louis' smile widens, and he stands up off the floor, Frankie still in his arms. He opens the front door to reveal his mother standing there, a big smile on her face.

"Hello, love!" She greets cheerfully. Louis smiles weakly as she thrusts a vase of flowers into his free hand. "Brought you a housewarming present."

"Cheers, thanks," He says, passing Frankie off to her before she can even ask.

"And hello, sweet girl," She coos to Frankie, who giggles. "Goodness, I've missed you! You're getting so big!"

"Me too?" Louis asks hopefully, standing on his tiptoes. Jay rolls her eyes fondly, stepping inside as Louis closes the door behind her. He glances back into the lounge to see Angelina's got her eyes closed again.

"Ang feels a bit ill," He says lowly. The smile falls from Jay's face, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Can you keep an eye on her while I run upstairs and check on Clara?"

"Of course, go ahead," Jay nods. Louis gives her a small, grateful smile, setting the vase down on top of a random closed box before going upstairs.

He finds Clara in Angelina's new room, sitting by the big bay window and staring outside. He clears his throat, making her turn her head and look at him. "Hi," She says softly.

"Hi," He says back, walking over and sitting in front of her, leaning back against the wall. Clara just looks out the window again, and Louis presses his lips together. "'S kinda weird, huh?"

"I miss our old house," Clara says softly. Louis frowns. "'S not fair."

"I know," He nods, voice quiet as he folds his hands in his lap. "It isn't fair, 'n I'm really sorry."

"Things were fine before," Clara mumbles.

"They weren't, 'n you know it," Louis sighs. "We had to move, baby. I need help. Nan couldn't keep driving back and forth from Donny, 'n we need her around."

Clara looks down, resting her chin between her kneecaps. "I miss mummy," She practically whispers. She looks up at Louis, eyes shining, and Louis' heart breaks.

"I know," He hesitates before adding on "I do too."

"No you don't," Clara says, and Louis frowns. "You guys fought all the time."

For the record, they didn't fight all the time. Mara did. She would yell and scream and throw things at Louis while he begged her to stop, because the walls were thin and the kids would hear. He's never been a yeller, he barely raises his voice even at the girls.

She was wild when he met her. Maybe that's what he liked about her. He's been on the quieter, softer side his entire life, and then Mara came into the picture, and she was loud and messy and emotional and beautiful.

They were never married. They found out they were expecting Clara right after Louis finished his fire science education, and that was that. Suddenly Mara was tied down to this domestic lifestyle she wasn't build for, and never wanted. Louis knew that, too. She loved their kids, and loved Louis (most days), but she was never going to stay tied down to one place. He's surprised she made it as long as she did.

"I love your Mum," Louis says, his voice soft and stern. "I was with her for eleven years, it's hard not to miss someone when you're together for that long. I miss her all the time."

"Did she love you?" Clara asks.

"I'd like to think so," Louis smiles bitterly.

"Then was it me?" She asks, a bit of a wobble to her voice. "That made her leave?"

Louis' face falls. "Oh, baby, no," He moves closer to her, wrapping her up in his arms and kissing the top of her head. Clara leans her head into his chest, sniffling. He brushes Clara's hair out of her face, holding her close.

"Your mummy loves you so much," Louis says, his voice gentle as Clara sniffles again. "You 'n your sisters are everything to her."

"Then why did she leave?" Clara's voice edges on weeping. "If it wasn't you, and it wasn't us?"

It's been seven months since Mara left. Louis came back from a night shift at the fire station, and she was gone. Her clothes, her car, her makeup and hair products that covered the washroom counter. She didn't leave a trace behind.

Frankie had been fast asleep in the cot next to their bed, Clara and Angelina at school, and Louis had sat down on the kitchen floor in tears, trying to figure out what to do with the life she had left behind.

Louis wishes she could see Clara right now. Could see how much her actions have destroyed the baby girl they had obsessed over together nine years ago, even seven months later.

"I don't know," He admits quietly. "But it has absolutely nothing to do with you. I promise. She adores you and your sisters, and nothing could ever change that."

Clara doesn't seem convinced, but she doesn't say anything, instead turning her face into the fabric of Louis' t-shirt. Louis just holds her, eyes traveling around the empty room. He hopes good things happen for them in this house.