by Sarah Picson
A fresh torrent of sobbing erupted from the living room and Robert grimaced.
‘I just need to see to Abi. Please, will you wait?’
Ellie blinked, but otherwise remained as still as a statue. Robert hesitated, before bounding into the living room. Ellie didn’t; she tore down the hallway, yanked open the front door and stumbled out of the house, as if being chased by a demon. Robert’s calls followed her out into the night, but she didn’t stop. She reversed her car out of the driveway, her heart hammering a fierce beat in her chest, and as Robert’s tall figure appeared in the doorway, her foot hit the accelerator and she sped away.
Chapter 26
Robert marched back into the house as if flames were licking at his heels. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat that he’d left hanging on the back of a kitchen chair.
‘Come on, come on,’ he muttered, until finally his hand curled round his car key.
‘Everything okay?’
‘No,’ he said, turning to face Moira.
‘Robert?’
‘Ellie…’ he began.
‘She went to the bathroom. She’s been in there a while.’
‘She’s gone, Moira.’
Robert’s chin dropped to his chest and he leaned on the back of the chair, as he tried to grasp exactly what had just happened. It was clear Ellie had heard some of his phone call to the clinic from the way she’d stared at him with such open hostility.
‘Robert?’
‘Yes?’ he said, jerking his head up.
‘Is everything okay with Jane?’
‘Oh, what? Yes,’ he said, guilt flooding his chest. ‘She tripped over a table leg and bruised her cheek and her hip.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘There’s no serious damage done. They gave her some mild painkillers, so she’s sleeping now. I’ll go first thing in the morning and check on her.’
Robert’s thoughts lurched back to Ellie and he let out a groan.
‘I wouldn’t worry too much. It doesn’t sound like Jane was badly hurt,’ said Moira. ‘Robert?’
Robert snatched his glasses from his face, threw them down on the side, and rubbed the bridge of his nose so forcefully that he was in danger of taking the top layer of skin off.
‘Ellie heard me on the phone to the clinic, I’m sure of it.’
‘You should have shut your study door then, Robert, if you wanted some privacy.’
‘Yes, I probably should have done,’ he growled.
‘I wouldn’t get worked up about it, Robert, just make sure you close the door next time.’
‘It’s not about the door, Moira!’ he snapped. ‘Ellie heard me talking about Jane. She must have heard me asking the nurse to tell Jane that I loved her and that I’d be in to visit her tomorrow.’
Moira arched an eyebrow.
‘I’m not following.’
‘I never told Ellie,’ Robert said. ‘I just never found the right…’
‘Never found the right what, Robert?’
‘I never found the right moment to tell Ellie about Jane. To tell her that Jane isn’t dead.’
He watched as Moira’s face knotted up in confusion.
‘Ellie thought Jane was dead?’
‘She jumped to her own conclusions about Jane. I knew I’d have to tell her about the accident at some point but I’ve struggled to find the right time.’
‘Well, that was never going to be an easy conversation to have,’ Moira said.
‘That’s no excuse. I should have been more open with her from the beginning. What if I’ve messed everything up?’
‘I had no idea things were moving so fast between the two of you.’
Robert met Moira’s curious gaze.
‘They’re not really. In fact, quite the opposite, she asked me to give her some space.’ Robert pushed the seat in front of him away and paced up and down the kitchen. ‘You should have seen the way she looked at me just now, Moira. She probably wants nothing to do with me. Pretending to have a dead wife, what must she think of me?’
He winced, his wedding ring weighing his hand down.
‘She’s the first woman since Jane,’ Moira said. ‘This was always going to be difficult, Robert.’
‘I’m still married to Jane,’ he said, drawing a sobering conclusion. ‘Maybe getting involved with Ellie has been a big mistake.’
‘How does she make you feel?’ Moira asked.
He frowned at her.
‘What?’
‘Ellie. How does she make you feel?’
‘Alive,’ he said, without hesitation. ‘She makes me feel good about myself. She makes me think I could be a good father.’
‘That sounds like a feeling worth holding on to.’
‘But what about Jane?’ he said, conflicting emotions hurtling round his head, jostling for attention.
‘Robert,’ Moira said. ‘Ellie’s been right this whole time. You are a good father and right now you need to focus on that upset girl in the living room.’
Robert’s priority was brought sharply into focus and he nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said, yanking open a cupboard and grabbing a packet of biscuits.
‘I saw that,’ Moira said, with a chuckle.
Robert leaned down and gave Moira a kiss on the cheek.
‘Thanks, Moira.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘For being you.’
With a cluck of her tongue, and two dimples pricking her cheeks, Moira shooed him out of the kitchen.
Robert found Abi buried beneath a blanket on the sofa, with only her head exposed. She had confessed what had happened and why she’d been asking for so much money almost as soon as Robert had asked. She had obviously needed to get it off her chest and Robert felt a surge of emotion as he caught sight of her tear-stained cheeks.
He sat down next to her and tossed the biscuits her way.
‘I know you didn’t get pizza, but will biscuits help?’
‘Yes,’ Abi whispered, her thin arms appearing from underneath the blanket.
‘Those kids aren’t worth your tears,’ Robert said, as she nibbled on a biscuit. ‘They’re not right for you.’
‘Don’t.’
‘Don’t what?’
‘Don’t think you know anything about my life.’
The force with which she spoke took him aback.
‘I could tell they were up to no good,’ he said.
‘And I’m just so stupid I couldn’t see it?’
She sat up straight, the biscuit packet rolling off her lap and onto the floor. Tears threatened to spring from her eyes again, as she glared at him.
‘No, I didn’t say that,’ Robert said
‘Don’t lecture me about this stuff, when all you care about is work, work, work.’
It came as an unwelcome bolt from the blue. Years of unspoken words, finally blurted out into the space between them.
‘I know I work long hours, but I do it for us. For our little family.’
‘Family? What family? I lost you the same time I lost Mum. I don’t have a family.’
Robert stiffened. He knew full well that he buried himself in his work to cope, but to hear the full extent of Abi’s feelings was horrifying. He’d been selfish. He’d ignored what his daughter had needed in the absence of her mother: a father.
‘I didn’t know you felt this way,’ he whispered, staring at the raw pain shining in her eyes. ‘Maybe if we both went to visit your mum and spent some time together as a family it would help.’
Abi screwed her face up, her lips quivering with emotion.
‘I don’t know her, why would I go and visit her?’
‘What are you talking about? She’s your mother.’
‘No, she’s not,’ Abi cried, the words bursting harshly from her mouth. ‘I don’t remember much about my mum, but I know that the woman in that clinic isn’t her.’
‘You’re hurting, Abi. I understand. We all deal with these things in different w
ays, but if you just went to see her it might help.’
‘I don’t want to be like you, obsessed with your weekly visits,’ she shrieked. ‘You’re either at work or visiting her, that’s all you care about.’
A vast, towering sadness overcame Robert, as he watched his daughter turn away from him and curl up into a tight ball, panting from the effort of what she’d just said.
‘You’re right,’ he said, his voice a husky murmur. ‘I’ve been a terrible father.’
Tears blurred his vision as he placed a hand tentatively on her back. She flinched but didn’t move away.
‘Can you forgive me, Abigail? Can we try again? Please.’
Ever so gradually, Abi uncurled and turned to face him, her face just as crumpled with emotion as his. Tears drenched her cheeks and Robert pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered, over and over again into her ear.
~
Later that evening, Robert climbed the stairs, two at a time, intent on saying goodnight to his daughter. He entered her room to find her already in bed with a book in her hand.
‘I don’t want to go to school on Monday, Dad. They’ll all be there, talking about me.’
He sat down and grasped her hand, enjoying the fact that she let him hold it.
‘You have to go to school, Abi. Just keep away from them and you’ll be fine. There must be some other nice children in your classes.’
‘Well, there’s a boy called Rory who is in a lot of my classes, he’s really nice.’
‘That’s great.’
‘Miss Saunders suggested I sit next to him in maths from now on.’ Robert wasn’t surprised in the least to hear about Ellie’s suggestion. Sometimes he thought she understood his daughter better than him. ‘I really like Miss Saunders, Dad.’
‘Me too.’
‘Have you kissed her yet?’
Robert pulled away and gaped at his daughter.
‘What?’
Abi shrugged, a mischievous grin playing across her face.
‘I know you like her, Dad. You’re happier when she’s around and you don’t go into your study as much on a Thursday now.’
Robert felt a sharp pang of guilt in his gut.
‘I’ve been useless, haven’t I? I’ve let you down. I’ve let your mother down.’
‘You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Dad.’
‘Abi, I don’t think —’
‘I’m not a kid any more,’ Abi interrupted. ‘The car crash was an accident.’
‘Abi, you should know something.’
He paused and she pinned him with a curious gaze.
‘What’s that?’
Robert swallowed, his throat scratchy and uncomfortable, but he knew he had to continue.
‘You should know that your mum and I weren’t getting on very well in the years leading up to the accident. In fact, your mum had asked me for a trial separation. I took it badly, I told her I needed to think about it, which she agreed to and so we carried on as before. But…but…’ he broke off, a familiar pressure pushing down on his shoulders.
‘But what, Dad?’ Abi asked, her small face crinkled up in concern.
‘If I’d agreed to the separation when she’d asked for it, then we wouldn’t have been in the car together that night. We wouldn’t have been pretending everything was okay. And she wouldn’t have been involved in the accident.’
‘Oh, Dad.’
‘I hope you can forgive me, Abi.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ Abi flung her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. Robert stroked his daughter’s soft, ebony hair. ‘I do miss Mum, you know. I just can’t stand seeing her the way she is.’
‘I know,’ he whispered.
Abi pulled herself out of his arms and stared up at him with wide eyes.
‘Mum’s never coming home again, is she?’
Robert blinked.
‘No. She’s not.’
A sad silence settled around the room as they both sat wrapped up in their own thoughts.
‘You’ve been different lately,’ Abi said. ‘It was really weird at first but it’s felt more like having my old dad back again, the one I had before the accident.’
‘I’m sorry it’s taken me so long,’ Robert sighed. ‘Did you know that you’ve become really mature? When did that happen?’
‘I don’t know. I do a lot of thinking when I’m in my room, I guess.’
‘That’s good, but will you come and talk to me if you have any problems from now on? I want to help.’
Robert fixed her with a serious stare over the top of his glasses. She nodded solemnly.
‘And you know you can talk to me as well, Dad.’
Robert took a deep breath.
‘Well, in that case, I got a call from the clinic this evening. Your mum had a fall today.’
Abi’s hand flew to her mouth.
‘Oh no.’
‘It’s okay, she’s fine. She’s just got some bruising. Nothing was broken, thank goodness. I’ll go and check up on her first thing tomorrow.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘You will?’
‘I know I’ve been stubborn about it, but I think I might need to see her,’ she said. ‘I hope she forgives me for not visiting her for such a long time.’
‘Of course, your mother will forgive you.’
‘I should have gone sooner, Dad, like you kept saying. I know I should have.’
‘We’ll go together,’ Robert whispered, before standing up.
‘Okay, Flopsy Bell, time to turn your light out.’
‘Flopsy Bell?’ Abi exclaimed.
Robert chuckled.
‘You don’t remember? That’s what your mother and I used to call you when you were very little.’
Abi shook her head.
‘I don’t remember. It’s silly.’
‘I quite like it,’ Robert said. ‘I never thought I’d call you it again, but it suits you, I might start using it more often, especially when we’re out in public.’
Abi grabbed her pillow and whacked Robert with it.
‘Don’t you dare!’
Laughing, he held his arms up to defend himself, before helping her tuck the pillow back under her head and switching out her light.
‘Sleep tight. See you in the morning.’
‘Night, Dad.’
As Robert strolled downstairs, an overwhelming sense of relief spread through him, undoing shackles and weights that he had tied tightly around himself since the accident. He’d never imagined it possible to have the kind of heartfelt conversation he’d had with Abi this evening. They’d broken through a thick barrier, one that he’d convinced himself was impenetrable.
Moira had left hours ago, so he sat alone in the kitchen nursing a glass of wine, deep in thought. He’d spent the last seven years in denial, eaten up by his own guilt and making a pig’s ear of moving on with his life. He’d messed up his family. He’d almost messed up his relationship with his daughter and if it hadn’t been for Ellie chipping away at him and encouraging him to make more of an effort with Abi, he might never have had the breakthrough he’d had tonight.
But where one door had opened, another door had slammed shut.
The wine was helping numb the blow of Ellie finding out about Jane the way she had. Guilt crept over him like a prickly blanket, as he thought of Ellie’s strained face outside his study.
He desperately needed to talk to her and explain about Jane. Robert pulled his phone from his pocket. He’d agreed to give her space, so he’d start with a short message.
Good to see you this evening. Thank you again for helping Abi. I thought you’d like to know that she’s much better now. Robert.
Robert pressed send straight away, before he had the chance to change his mind. Reading it back, he frowned at how formal it sounded.
Robert finished his glass of wine and poured himself another. He stared at his phon
e, willing it to light up with a reply, but it remained stubbornly silent.
Chapter 27
Ellie stumbled in through Jenny’s front door. She’d been driving around Thistleby for hours, with only dark thoughts in her head for company.
Discovering that Robert’s wife wasn’t dead sat like a trapped animal deep in the pit of her stomach, thrashing and scratching to be set free, sending jolts of pain darting through her body.
She’d convinced herself that Robert was different: the way he looked at her in that simple way of his that made her heart sing, the forthright, open manner in which he’d always spoken to her had been a breath of fresh air. He had seemed incapable of playing games and lying to her, but how wrong she had been.
Jenny emerged from the kitchen.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘You’re back late.’
Ellie stared at her for a second, open-mouthed and numb, and then hot tears were flowing down her cheeks and Jenny was at her side.
Slipping an arm round her shoulder, her fingers smelling of Bea’s strawberry shampoo, Jenny steered her into the living room. Ellie sank down onto the sofa, pulling her knees to her chest, huddled up in a ball.
‘What’s going on?’ Jenny asked. But Ellie couldn’t reply, she felt utterly exhausted. ‘Let me make some tea, I’ve just boiled the kettle.’
Ellie’s head lolled back on the sofa, the only thing she could hear was Jenny moving around in the kitchen, until a message pinged through on her phone. A text from Robert; Ellie’s eyes became blurry with tears all over again.
Without reading it, she hit the delete button just as Jenny brought in two steaming mugs of tea.
‘Get some of that down you and then start talking,’ Jenny ordered, holding a mug out to Ellie, and settling on the other end of the sofa.
Ellie welcomed the strong, hot tea sliding down her throat.
‘Are you okay?’ Jenny persisted.
Ellie shook her head.
‘I’ve just been at Robert’s.’
‘Oh, yes? Went to pick up where you left off on Tuesday night, did you?’ Jenny’s cheeky grin didn’t stay on her face for long. ‘Ellie? What’s the matter?’