Monica dialled the code into the gate with Johnny on her hip, shopping back of groceries straining on her wrist, slightly irritated as to why the payphone on the street telephone box she was using was broken... or so she thought.

She opened the painted green door to find Freddie sitting on the front doorsteps, head in his hands.

"Freddie?" She rushed over and let the gate slam behind her, still thinking he was agitated. "I'm sorry about that, the payphone in the box I picked must've been bust..."

She trailed off as he lifted his head, revealing his red eyes.

"Oh love, what happened?" Panicked, she let the bag slip out of her hand and placed Johnny down onto the path, and he toddled inside on his now free, healed leg with ease. "Where's Roshni?!"

"She's fine-" he wiped his red, blotchy face. "Well, no, she isn't. She's hiding" he wiped his wet cheeks, looking down at his feet in shame.

"Why? What happened?! What is she hiding from-"

"Me!" He snapped across, then stammered as she retreated slightly. "Because... she knocked down one of my antique vases and I-I shouted at her."

"Well shit, Fred!" she grabbed her shopping and stepped past him.

"She-She didn't listen to me when I told her to stay put! The telephone rang and it was you!" He reasoned.

" ...Roshni? Roshni? Mummy's back!"
She ignored him, rushing into the hallway and anxiously calling out.

Nothing like this had happened before. Yes, they both could be a handful, and Freddie got frustrated constantly only in moments when they intended to aggravate him to a degree. But it never before got to a point where he would directly scream into their face and frighten them, nor for reasons only selfishness and materialism could explain.

Within a flash, the small patters of footsteps sounded and Roshni appeared in the hall at her feet, hugging onto her mother's legs for dear life the moment she collided.

"Oh sweetie... what happened to you?" Monica worriedly bent down to her and wiped her red face.

Freddie looked past his shoulder and into the doorway, distraught as he watched Monica try to settle their panicky daughter. The girl shrieked at the sight of her dad's crouching figure and tugged her mum's arm away from him, towards the stairwell whilst Johnny watched on in confusion.

The man felt his heart crumble as Monica picked her up and shushed her gently in a desperate attempt to soothe her.

"Don't let go, mummy!" Roshni buried her face into her mother's neck.

"Mummy's back... she's here..." Monica peeped into the sitting room as she cradled her daughter's head.

Freddie stood up and helplessly shut the front door "Please let me explain."

She gasped at the sight of the fallen vase, and gently cooed, "Oh sweetie... it was just an accident. Just a little accident... you didn't mean it..."

He looked away, and threw his hands up as he interrupted her thoughts, "I spent so much on it-"

"Just keep quiet! You're distressing her with the sound of your voice!" She cut across him and turned away, carrying the shaky girl up the stairs, Johnny following at her feet.

Freddie snivelled and cautiously lagged behind, keeping his distance of several feet apart.

"Mummy?" Johnny tugged at her trouser leg.

"One moment, baby." Monica shushed him. "Your sister's upset."

Immediately she paced back and fourth across the nursery as little Johnny stood by, rubbing soothing circles on the girl's back as she continued to sob and hide into her mother's shoulder.

"I'm here..." Monica whispered repetitively, comforting her and kissing the top of her head.

Freddie peeped in from the doorframe at a safe distance, eyes gleaming.

He was too upset at himself to admire her motherly nature at that moment. He envied Monica's patience, and how she was able to solve a problem with ease and without the need for Phoebe to step in.

Moments later and the girl's distressed sobs finally became hushed, and Monica gently laid her down in her cot, tucking her bear under her arm and draping her crocheted blanket over her lightly.

"Mummy!" She pleaded as her mother pulled the filmy curtains together to dim the nursery. "Don't let him get me..."

Freddie felt his stomach fall the moment he heard those words, and he shifted out of sight and stood against the wall in anguish. Johnny went out of the room and lingered next to his dad, unaware of his current state.

"Of course not... he's not going to get you or harm you... mummy's not leaving your side" Monica reached in and soothingly rubbed her head, running hand through her daughter's tousled, black mop.

"It was not me!" She said again.

"Then who knocked the vase over, sweetie?" She whispered, and Freddie listened closely.

"The kitty!"

"You were chasing one of the cats and it hit the vase?" Monica asked softly, and the girl nodded.

"My god, what have I done?" Freddie thought, crumpling onto the landing carpet as Johnny stood at the stairwell safety rail, wanting to go downstairs.

Roshni's eyes became heavier by the second as Monica kept rubbing her head. She gravitated towards her childrens' music box and wound it up gently before returning to her cot, setting herself on the rug and reaching her hand into the rails...

Her daughter wrapped her small hand around her finger...

"So please don't go... don't leave me here all by myself" Monica softly sang along to the twinkle. "I get ever so lonely, from time to time..."

She shed a tear, knowing that the song accurately summed up Freddie's shame and remorse at that moment.

"I will find you... anywhere you go, I'll be right behind you... right until the ends of the earth," her voice began to break. "I'll get no sleep til I find you, to tell you... when I've found you..."

Freddie, even to his own surprise, crept in and accompanied her for the last verse...

"I love you..."

He peered into his little girl, at last asleep and cosy under her blanket as the music box fell silent.

He slowly reached his hand over towards the rails...

"Keep your distance," Monica whispered, suddenly grabbing his wrist. "She could jolt awake."

He turned away, and took his original spot at the door.

"If only she was old enough to know and understand that it was her father who wrote that song" Monica thought sadly as she turned the child monitor on.

Freddie held his hand out for her, and she got back onto her feet as he quietly lead her out.

He started sobbing the moment the door clicked shut.

"Freddie..." she whispered, gently taking his chin.

"She thinks I'm a monster!" He tearfully let out.

She shushed him, "She doesn't, it was only an-"

"I scare them!" He cried. "What good of a father am I ever going to be if I scare them, let alone make enough time for them?!"

He knew he was the type of person who at times didn't realise the consequences of his actions until it was too late, and knowing that his short temper didn't make him good father material either practically and emotionally destroyed him every time.

"You love them, don't you?!" She asked him firmly.

He nodded violently, pacing back and forth.

"Well, give it an hour, alright?" She picked Johnny up. "You will see, she might forgive you by then."

He wiped his eyes, helplessly following her, "But I want to make it up to her now-"

"She's asleep!" She whispered. "And anyway, she will probably be more forgiving when she's awake."

"I cannot bare this, Monica!" he threw his hands around.

"Well, that's what you get for losing your temper. It's called regret. I cannot believe you'd take your interior design errors out on her.... Let alone put an object over your own daughter!" She said flatly, then made her way down the stairs.

He watched hesitant as the sting of her words lingered, then glanced back to the nursery door that his daughter was behind.

"Well, you coming down or not?" Monica held the safety gate open for him, gently prying Johnny's grabby hands away from her hair .

He wanted to go in there and love her, but he shook his head and reluctantly went down the stairs after the rest of his small family.

After all, he didn't want to make things worse than they already were.

Monica, signalled him to follow her, and she went straight to the telephone directory sitting on the table in the hallway.

"What are you doing?"

"K... K... k..." she muttered as she begun to flip through it, her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

"The KKK... now, I know I screamed at our daughter but is this some kind of joke?!"

"I'm looking for kintsugi artists!"

"'Kintsugi'? W-What are you on about?" He snivelled.

"Don't tell me that you, a former art student and a lover of all things art and Japanese, doesn't know what kintsugi is!" She exclaimed in distraction.

He rolled his eyes, "Not really."

"It's the art of repairing broken pottery with gold." she said, picking up a pencil and circling a few addresses of artists and specialists that had caught her eye.

"Sounds much too avant-garde for me." he spat.

She explained. "But the gold makes the cracks look beautiful for having been broken... like showing that the scars and what the the piece has been through is what makes the piece what it is."

"So, you have found a few contacts which will... fix it for me?" He asked, but not yet able to see where she was going with it.

She nodded, shutting the directory and crossing her arms, "Yes... but that's not what I am trying to say. Perhaps you can turn your current situation into gold too."

"Oh." He watched as she picked the shopping bag up off the floor and headed towards the kitchen to unpack.

"I'm going to put on a put of tea in a minute. Should I take out another cup?" She asked over her shoulder.

"Yes, that'd be lovely." Was all he could say.

She nodded silently, and disappeared.

He stood in the hallway as her footsteps echoed, thinking, "She is too good..."