by Lily Hayden
Tim chuckled, but Will saw his brother’s face flush slightly with pleasure at the compliment.
“Where are you heading to next?” He asked Will once their sisters had turned their attention back to the children.
“We’re thinking Australia again,” Will told him surprised at his brother’s interest.
“Amazing,” Tim nodded appreciatively before turning serious. “Just don’t go blowing all that money, mind. If you want any advice on investing, I’ve a friend who can help you. Although, you can’t go wrong with property.”
“That’s what I’m doing.” Belle chimed in from across the table. “I’m going to have one big holiday, treat myself to a car and then the rest is going on bricks and mortar.”
“I haven’t really thought about it yet.” Will admitted.
The will, when it was finally read after months of paperwork and complications that Will didn’t even pretend to understand, had felt like a double-edged sword. He hadn’t expected Bluebell Farm to sell so quickly, and he could hardly bear to look at his bank balance when the money finally came through just weeks before. It felt something akin to what he imagined survivor’s guilt might feel like; knowing that if Frank hadn’t keeled over the night before his wedding, it was very unlikely that they would have ever seen a penny of it.
“How can you not think about it?” Belle rolled her eyes playfully at Tim gesturing to Rose and Will. “How are these pair even related to us?”
Will smiled at her joke, but there was a touch of sadness to his expression that Rose noticed.
“Are you ok?” She nudged him quietly.
He nodded, trying to shift the sombre mood, but seeing the concern in her eyes he found himself opening up. “I just feel a bit guilty about having it, to be honest.”
He expected her to dismiss his confession, but she nodded in agreement. “No, I know exactly what you mean. I do, too.”
“It was Mum’s money.” Belle, as always didn’t miss a thing, and she looked up sharply to interrupt. “She would have been devastated if the wedding had gone ahead and that witch got her mitts on it.”
“I know,” he sighed heavily. “I can’t help how I feel.”
He looked up at his younger sister for her response, but her eyes were fixed on Rose. He frowned as he watched a silent exchange between them, but before he could try to interpret the emotions each sister was conveying to the other, Rose had looked away and he couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t imagined it.
“You’re right, Belle,” she agreed in a more upbeat tone. “I totally get what Will means though. I’m not going to do anything exciting though; just pay off the mortgage and my debt, put some aside for deposits for houses for the boys.” She paused as if unsure whether to go on before admitting sheepishly. “I’ve been thinking of going back to uni.”
“Oh my God, Rose!” Belle practically shrieked with excitement startling the baby and making everyone around the table hold their breath for a moment in fear that she was about to wake up howling. Thankfully, she just emitted a funny, little squeak followed by a deep sigh, and then seemed to go straight back to sleep. Belle grimaced at Tim apologetically, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I’m so sorry!”
“It’s fine,” Tim laughed. “If she can sleep though Hugo and Bea’s arguing, she can sleep through anything.” He turned to Rose with interest. “That’s great news. What are you thinking of studying?”
“I’m not sure yet,” she said. “I was thinking of maybe accountancy. Believe it or not, I used to be pretty good with numbers.”
“You’ll be wonderful at whatever you do,” Tim told her, and this time it was Rose that flushed with pride.
Any anxiety that he had been feeling about this trip melted away as Will watched his brother and sisters hustle the children out of the pub to begin the trek up to the top of Bluebell hill. He had never expected to see them come together like this, and he felt a warm, fuzzy sensation spread through his chest.
“Hey,” Belle noticed him trailing behind the group. “What’s that smile for?”
“I was just thinking,” he admitted. “That Mum would be pleased to see us all like this. To see us looking out for each other, and her grandkids playing together.”
“I think she would,” she agreed. “All I’ve ever wanted was to make her proud.”
“She would be,” Rose had been walking alongside Tim with Bea holding both their hands and Millie in an overly-complicated sling strapped to Tim’s chest that had taken all four of them to figure out how to operate, but she slowed to allow Will and Belle to catch up. “She will be. We’re all proud of you, Belle. I would have been lost without you this last year.”
“And I would have been useless if you hadn’t terrified me into thinking I was going to end up with kids that hated me,” Tim said with an air of humility that Will hadn’t been expecting.
“I didn’t say that!” Belle protested before laughing when she saw that he was grinning. “Well, ok, I might have said something along those lines.”
“On more than one occasion may I add!” He shot back with a chuckle. “I think your actual words were that I’d end up like Frank. With kids like strangers, and just some gold-digger for company who was counting down the days ‘til I popped my clogs. Hard words to swallow, but do you know what? I bloody needed them. I was an arrogant pig, and despite the challenges,” a shadow of regret crossed his face and Will would have bet money on it that he was thinking about losing Eleanor. The shadow passed and he offered a crooked grin to his sister. “I’m glad you had the guts to say it.”
“I was very emotional at the time,” Belle cut in quickly with an apologetic shrug when she saw the look of horror on Rose’s face. “But I’m glad I said it now if it worked.”
“It worked,” Tim laughed. “I never thought I had it in me to be a good parent. I just accepted that I sucked at it and left it to Eleanor. Turns out I’m alright with a bit of effort.”
“You’re better than alright,” Rose smiled affectionately at him. “Like Belle said, I think Mum would be proud of you all.”
They drew to a stop as they reached the clearing at the top of the hill, looking down at Bluebell Farm nestled in the crook of the winding lane with the village spread out beneath them.
“Should we say something?” Will gently withdrew the urn of ashes from the bag that Belle had carefully packed it in.
When Linda had learned that she had been left nothing in the will, she had redirected the Funeral Directors to contact Belle to make the arrangements. She had left the house and the village shortly afterwards, and they had heard from Brenda Howells that she had taken up with a gentleman in Ross-on-Wye that she had met through an online dating site. Will had grimaced at the time, realising that he had assumed that Frank had met her in the village not trawling for women on the internet. It had made him feel sad that father had had four children who would have been happy to spend time with him if he’d only shown a fleeting interest.
It just seemed like a very sad end to a very sad man.
The ashes had been sat on a shelf in Belle’s cupboard for a year before she had called a family reunion to scatter them. With a no knowledge of what he would have wanted and the one person who might have known too busy planning her winter wedding to a retired barrister named Cyril, they had collectively decided to scatter his ashes in the same spot as their mother.
“Can you say something?” Belle asked suddenly looking quite tearful. “I don’t really know what to say.”
Will looked to Tim and then Rose, hoping that one of them might have something fitting and heartfelt prepared, but Tim shrugged, and Rose had stepped away from the huddle of adults to keep an eye on the children.
“Rose?” Will removed the lid carefully and waited for her to join them, but Belle shook her head.
“She’s alright where she is, Will,” she told him quietly but firmly.
He caught his sisters exchange a silent look and figured that Rose must have something going on. She
had been the one to take the lead when Kathleen had died, and the words that she had spoken came back to Will.
She had written a moving tribute to their mother, finishing with a quote that she had attributed to Albert Einstein.
“Our death is not an end if we can live on in our children and the younger generation. For they are us, our bodies are only wilted leaves on the tree of life.”
It didn’t feel right though for Frank, Will realised as his throat grew dry and scratchy. He was just a shadow in all Will’s happy childhood memories; barely there, ill-tempered, and distant. He racked his mind for something poignant, or warm to say, but there was nothing he could think of that wasn’t an empty cliché. He felt the silence stretch out amongst them, intuitively knowing that they were all struggling to find the words to say for a man who had been a father only in name to them. There were no funny, touching anecdotes to relay, or fond remembrances. He hadn’t ever even shared any memories of his own childhood with them, and Will realised he knew nothing about Frank’s upbringing. Essentially, Frank had been little more than a stranger to them.
In the months leading up to his death and the immediate aftermath, Will had realised that it wasn’t just him who had been impacted by Frank’s indifference. But what he did know was that no good would ever come out of holding onto the hurt.
“I’m sorry that we didn’t seem to be compatible in this life, Dad,” he said finally, and as the words came, he felt the heavy ache of his heart lighten. “We had a wonderful life here with Mum and each other, and I wish that I could reel off memories of you taking us to school, or playing with us, teaching us to ride bikes or dressed up as Father Christmas. Anything really would be good to say right now.”
His voice cracked, and he felt his brother step to his side and then there was a solid steadying hand on his arm.
“I don’t know why it was so hard for you,” he continued strengthened by his brother’s presence. “But I’m sorry that it was, because you’ve missed out on four pretty great kids and some adorable grandchildren. I’m glad that we got to spend even the smallest amount of time with you though, Dad, before you passed, and I have to thank you for bringing us back together again.
For a while, I thought there was something wrong with me for you to not want a relationship with me, and then when I realised that it was just who you were, I wondered if maybe I had your bad blood. Maybe that’s why I was thirty-five and incapable of settling down like everyone else around me, but looking at the family that you gave me, I know that there’s no such thing as bad blood. Some people are meant to be parents, but some people just aren’t that good at it. That’s not our fault; it’s just your loss.
We loved you in our own way, Dad, and I’m sure you loved us in your own way. So, I hope you’ve found your peace now, and the little boy in me wishes desperately that you’re looking down on us with love.”
With trembling fingers, he attempted to open the lid to the urn unsuccessfully before Rose’s gentle fingers took it from his hands.
“Thank you, Will,” she said tears streaming down her own cheeks. “I think we all needed to hear that.”
Belle slipped an arm around him from the other side, resting her own misty eyes against his shoulder, and Tim stepped forward to join the huddle, albeit carefully with a sleeping baby strapped to his chest.
“It’s a shame he never had a brother or sisters like you,” Tim smiled fondly. “Or things might have been a little different. But you’re right, Will, and while I’m sure he loved us in his own way, there’s no point us dwelling on what could have been. He gave us each other, and for that, I’ll always remember him by.”
Will took a deep breath, and stepping free from the comfort of their pack, he took the urn back from his sister. With tears sliding down his face, he stepped forward to release the ashes to the light summer breeze. The gritty fragments swirled in the gentle wind for just a moment, and then Frank was gone.
The End
About The Author
Bad Blood is the seventh novel by Lily Hayden. She is also the author of Project Terra under the name S.J Woods.
For more information, new releases and news, follow Hayden Woods Creative on social media or visit www.haydenwoodscreative.com
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Also by Lily Hayden
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