by Suzy K Quinn
Now I know something’s wrong.
‘It’s not Christmas Eve,’ I say, glancing at Keith. ‘I’m a day early. Didn’t my bags arrive earlier?’
Dad scratches his head. ‘Oh, something did. I just thought it was your Christmas presents.’
He blinks, and I notice that his eyes aren’t quite focusing.
‘Have you been drinking?’ I ask.
Dad blinks again. ‘Only a few beers.’
I turn to Keith. ‘Thanks so much for the lift. I’m fine now, honestly.’
Keith glances at my dad. ‘Will you be okay here?’
‘Absolutely fine,’ I say. ‘Don’t worry about me. Get back to your family.’
‘If you’re sure ...’
‘Positive. Go on. Get on home.’
Keith hesitates, then gives a little nod. ‘Well. If you’re sure. There’s plenty of security around here. Call if you want anything. Okay? I can be back here within half an hour.’
‘Okay.’
Keith heads back to the car.
I turn back to Dad. ‘Come on. Let’s go in and you can tell me what’s going on.’
15
The cottage is dark inside, and silver moonlight turns the sofas into creepy, lumpy shadows. I smell stale beer and old socks, and feel something I haven’t felt in the cottage for a very long time – not since the few years after Mum died.
Sadness.
Sammy’s still wailing, but Dad doesn’t seem to notice.
My stomach ties itself in one knot after another as I walk through the cottage and trip over beer bottles and clumps of clothing.
‘Dad,’ I say. ‘What’s going on?’
Sammy’s wailing lessens a little and turns into a dull little whimper. Then he becomes quiet, and I guess he must have fallen back to sleep.
I turn and see my dad’s pale, creased up face in the moonlight. His hair is standing up all over the place. His eyes are bloodshot and now I see him trying to walk, I know he’s a little drunk. And he’s holding himself in that way, that same sad defeated way, that he did when Mum died.
A sliver of sickness runs through my stomach as I remember that awful time. Dad, drinking too much, not taking care of himself, depressed all the time. The house a complete state. Me struggling to cope with it and hold the family together, whilst nursing a big, empty hole where Mum had been.
I still miss her, even now. There aren’t many days when I don’t think of her, one way or another.
‘Everything’s okay, love,’ Dad insists, his words soft and tired. ‘You just woke me up, that’s all.’ There’s a clink as he trips over a beer bottle, and he stumbles around until he finds his feet.
‘No it isn’t.’ I turn on the light and wish I hadn’t. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen the cottage looking so bad. Piles of dirty clothes everywhere. A counter covered in dirty plates and cups. There are even a few flies climbing over rubbish bags by the bin, which makes me absolutely shudder. It’s winter. Who gets flies in winter?
An empty whisky bottle lies on the dining table, and drained beer bottles are lined up along the floor by Dad’s easy chair.
‘Oh Dad.’ I turn to him and realise how truly awful he looks. Those bleary eyes are bright red under the light. His skin is pale and tired, and he’s wearing the same shirt and trousers from the party.
‘You were wearing those clothes in bed?’ I ask.
‘Yes.’ Dad scratches his head. He follows my gaze down to his dirty shirt. ‘I was too tired to get out of my clothes tonight. It’s ... been a long day.’
‘And too tired yesterday and the day before by the looks of it. Where’s Genoveva?’
‘She’s taking a break.’
‘Dad.’ I cross my arms. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on or am I going to have to force it out of you?’
Dad sighs and slumps down on the sofa. ‘Genoveva left,’ he says, picking up an empty beer bottle from the floor and trying to drink from it. It takes him a good few seconds before he realises the bottle is empty, at which point he tosses it back down to the floor.
It rolls towards my feet and I pick it up. ‘Has Sammy been crawling around all this stuff?’
‘No.’ Dad rubs his eyes. ‘A girl from town has been taking him for half the day while I’m at work. She’s not bad. Cheap rates. He seems pretty happy with her. And this place isn’t so bad.’
‘Not so bad?’ I try to stuff the empty beer bottle in the overfull bin, before giving up and placing it on the sticky kitchen counter. ‘Dad, it’s awful. You can’t have Sammy in a place like this. Does Genoveva know what a mess it is?’
‘I … she won’t take my calls. I keep expecting her to walk through the door. But it’s been over a week …’
‘Oh, Dad.’ I go behind the sofa and put my arms around him shoulders. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come and stayed here. Helped out.’
‘You couldn’t have done, love. You’re so busy with your play and everything.’
I hug him tighter. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have called you. I was ...’ I think back to that weird and difficult week after the whole Giles Getty thing. ‘... pretty busy. But I still should have thought of you. I’m so sorry. I knew something was up last night, but I didn’t realise it was this bad. You should have said something. You know how important you and Sammy are to me. I’d drop everything to come help out.’
Dad gives a tired smile. ‘That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.’
‘What happened?’ I ask. ‘With Genoveva? Did you have a big fight or something?’
‘Of sorts.’ Dad sighs. He grabs another empty beer bottle and starts picking at the label.
‘Dad?’
‘She’s … been seeing someone else.’
‘Oh no.’
‘A doctor. He lives in the village. He’s married.’
‘Oh no.’
Dad nods. ‘I feel terrible for his wife. They have three kids together. Three times the heartache.’
‘So where’s Genoveva now?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve heard that she’s with him. In one of his holiday homes. I’m just hoping she’ll see sense and come back to us. Sammy needs her. I need her too.’
‘Poor Sammy. He must not know what end is up right now.’
‘Him and me both.’
‘Things will get better,’ I say, picking up beer bottles. I line them up around the bin, just like I used to after Mum died. ‘Time heals.’
‘She’ll be back,’ says Dad. ‘I’m sure of it. She just needs time to realise what a terrible mistake she’s made.’ He puts his head in his hands.
I put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I hope so Dad.’ But secretly, I can’t see it. Genoveva and Dad often rowed, but she’s never left him before. And if she’s seeing someone else …
‘Sammy’s missing her like crazy,’ says Dad. ‘That’s why I know she can’t have left for good. She’d never leave him for good.’
I don’t know what to say about that. Truth be told, I’ve always thought of Genoveva as a bit on the cold side. I try to see the best in everybody, but with Genoveva it was a struggle at times. And right now, seeing my dad upset like this, it’s a real struggle.
Two sides to every story, I remind myself. But knowing Genoveva the way I do, perhaps there really is only one side to this one.
‘Oh Dad.’ I put my arms around him again. ‘Let me make you some hot milk and I’ll start getting this place cleaned up.’
‘No.’ Dad shakes his head and clambers to his feet. ‘You must be knackered. You’ve come all the way from London. We’ll both get stuck in tomorrow. You should go to bed. Get some rest. We both should.’
His skin looks so pale and thin – almost see through.
‘That sounds like a good idea,’ I say, knowing full well that I’m going to insist Dad stays out of my way tomorrow. He’s far more of a hindrance than a help when it comes to clearing up, and by the look of him he needs a good lie in. ‘You go get some sleep.’
16
After Dad has staggered off upstairs, I creep up myself and sneak a look in Sammy’s room. He’s sleeping soundly in his cot, his little arms thrown up above his head.
Sammy’s room used to be my old bedroom and I love that Sammy sleeps in here.
It’s a perfect kid’s room because there’s a sloping ceiling that makes it hard for an adult to stand up.
Of course, Genoveva has redecorated so it doesn’t look anything like my bedroom anymore. The little fairies I painted around the fireplace have been scrubbed off, and the lavender plants I grew along the windowsill have been thrown out. All the old furniture Dad and I found at flea markets has been replaced with white flat pack stuff.
I watch Sammy sleeping for a few minutes, but just as I’m backing out the door, a floorboard creaks and Sammy mutters and rubs his nose.
‘Mama,’ he says, wide awake suddenly.
I go to him. ‘It’s alright Sammy,’ I whisper, suddenly furious with Genoveva. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after you while Mummy’s away.’ I rub his back until his eyes close and sing the lullaby my mum used to sing to me – Somewhere over the Rainbow.
Soon Sammy is asleep, and I creep downstairs.
*****
When I reach the living room, I call Marc.
He picks up on the first ring.
‘Sophia.’
‘Marc. I … is everything okay? You didn’t call—’
‘I’ve been calling and calling,’ Marc barks. ‘Why have you had your phone off?’
‘I didn’t turn my phone off.’
‘I called at least twenty times. Every time it said the number was unavailable. I was going out of my mind with worry. I even came to the theatre, but my security team told me you were out. With Leo.’
‘We went out to dinner,’ I say. ‘It was only for an hour or so.’
‘If it wasn’t for the fact my security people were there ... Sophia, I don’t like not being able to reach you.’
Suddenly it hits me. ‘Wait. My phone was in Leo’s dressing room, at the back of the theatre. There’s no phone reception back there. So I guess no calls could get through.’
‘Leo’s dressing room?’ Marc growls.
‘He confiscated my phone,’ I explain. ‘So I could concentrate better. Otherwise I’d just have been checking it all day for your calls.
‘He took your phone?’ Marc sounds furious.
‘I mean ... it wasn’t exactly like that. I agreed to it. He was right. It would have been a distraction.’
I can hear Marc breathing. Hard.
‘Marc?’
‘Don’t give Leo your phone again.’
I rub my eyes, tired suddenly. ‘Marc, you’re making something out of nothing.’
‘Get some sleep. I’ll see you soon.’
‘When?’ I ask. ‘It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow.’
‘And you have all day free. Until your show at eight.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because I know your schedule.’
‘How?’
‘Sophia, it’s my job to look after you. Don’t you think I’d find out your rehearsal and show schedule?’
‘Yes, but how?’
‘One of my team is very good at extracting information from computers.’
I sigh. ‘You could have just asked me. I’d tell you whatever you wanted to know.’
Marc laughs. ‘Like the fact you were going out to dinner with Leo Falkirk?’
‘That was a last minute thing. I would have told you. It was no secret.’ I slump on the sofa, really tired all of a sudden. ‘Look, I’m too tired for you to be jealous right now, okay? We’re having a bit of a family crisis.’
‘What’s going on?’ Marc’s voice is urgent.
‘Genoveva left. Dad needs a bit of looking after.’
‘Do you need me to send anyone? Staff? Rodney?’
‘No, it’s fine. Dad isn’t the sort of person who likes strangers around when he’s down. He needs his family right now.’
‘You’re a very good daughter.’
‘I’m just looking after my dad, that’s all. Just like anyone else would do. What did you have planned for tomorrow?’
A pause. ‘I was planning on taking you shopping. But if your father needs you—’
‘Shopping?’
‘For Christmas presents.’
‘I’ve bought all my Christmas presents,’ I say. ‘Months ago. I like to get my shopping out of the way early.’ I don’t add, it works out cheaper that way.
Marc laughs. ‘Very organised. But I didn’t mean your shopping. I wanted to buy Christmas presents for you and your family.’
‘Oh Marc.’ I feel myself soften. ‘That’s … lovely. Truly. But please don’t feel you have to go to any trouble. My family are just happy to be together at Christmas. And as for me, being with you on Christmas day is the best present ever.’
‘I’d never dream of turning up at your family home without Christmas gifts.’
I smile down the phone. ‘I understand. I guess I’d feel the same, if I were you.’ I hesitate. ‘But ... how can you buy a present for me if I’m with you?’
‘Very easily,’ says Marc. ‘You can choose exactly what you like.’
‘But then it won’t be a surprise.’
Marc laughs. ‘I forgot. You like surprises.’
‘Yes I do.’
‘You like to challenge me, don’t you Miss Rose?’
‘You’re one to talk.’
‘Fine. A surprise it is.’
My chest flutters. ‘Marc. Don’t get me anything too expensive, will you? I mean, I couldn’t afford to get you anything too big, so just get me something small.’
‘I don’t want you to get me a present,’ says Marc.
‘Why not?’
‘I’m not a great receiver.’
‘But I want to give you a present. It will make me happy.’
A pause. ‘I would never stop you doing anything that made you happy.’
17
The next morning, I’m woken up earlier than usual by Sammy crying. It’s a desperate, long wailing that prickles at my heart and has me leaping to my feet.
I trip over toys and towels in the hallway, and burst into Sammy’s room, finding that he’s pulled himself up in the cot and is howling over the bars.
‘Sammy, Sammy,’ I say, my face softening. ‘What’s all this noise about then?’ I take him out of the cot, and his chubby little hands grip at my hair. He snuggles himself into my shoulder and calms down.
‘Sammy?’ Dad comes crashing into the room in his boxer shorts and t-shirt.
‘It’s okay Dad. You go back to bed. I’ll get Sammy his milk.’
Dad rubs his eyes. ‘Are you sure love?’
‘I’m sure. It looks like you could use the extra sleep. Go on. It’s fine.’
‘You’re really sure?’
‘Positive.’
‘Well. Wake me if you need anything.’
‘I will,’ I say, knowing I won’t.
I walk Sammy to the window. It’s still pretty dark out, but the sky is greying as dawn approaches. ‘Look out there Sammy,’ I say. ‘The sun will come up soon. It’s Christmas Eve already, isn’t that exciting? Santa’s going to come tomorrow and bring you lots of toys.’
I see a flash of someone moving outside the cottage and leap back from the window.
‘What the–’ I grip Sammy tighter, my heart beating like a drum. When I look closer, I see that the black figure is one of Marc’s security team. ‘Whoa. Okay, okay. Just security.’ But they’re pretty active for first thing in the morning. I hope everything’s okay.
I walk Sammy to the guest bedroom, grab my phone from the bedside table and call Marc.
‘Sophia.’ Marc’s voice sounds crisp and wide awake, as if he’s been sitting by the phone, waiting for my call. ‘You’re up early. Is everything okay?’
‘Sammy woke me. It’s fine, but I just had the fright of my life seeing one of yo
ur security guards prowling around the cottage. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’
‘I told you. It’s nothing—’
‘Marc.’ My voice is stern. ‘Just … tell me, please. I’ll worry more if you don’t. Is it something to do with Getty?’
‘In a roundabout way.’
My heart beats faster. ‘Did they let him out?’
‘No. He’s still in custody.’
‘He is?’ I’m confused now. ‘Then what’s going on? And how can it have anything to do with him?’
‘It’s to do with … people he knows. Look. I want this to be a good Christmas for you. I don’t want you dwelling on something that’s probably not important. Just trust that I’m handling everything and keeping you safe. After Christmas, if security is still an issue, I’ll tell you everything. Okay?’
‘After Christmas?’
‘After Christmas. But until then, I want you to forget that there’s security around.’
‘That’s going to be pretty tough.’
‘I know.’ A pause. ‘How’s your father?’
‘I don’t know yet. I sent him back to bed so I could take care of Sammy and do the housework.’
At the mention of his name, Sammy wriggles a little in my arms, and I rebalance everything so I don’t drop the phone.
‘Let me send you some assistance,’ says Marc.
I sigh. ‘It’s fine. Really. Like I said, Dad’s not in a great place for having strangers around. He needs his family here. It might be best if I stay a while.’
‘Can I at least send Rodney over to help you with the housework?’
‘It won’t take me long. Just a few hours.’
‘I don’t want you tiring yourself out. You have your show this evening. Unless you’d like me to contact Davina. Tell her you’re taking a break for personal reasons.’
‘I can’t do that. People have bought tickets. I can’t let them down.’
Marc gives a little laugh. ‘If it were my show, that’s what I’d say too. But when I hear you say it, it’s different. The show can wait. Your well-being is more important.’
‘But I’m fine,’ I insist. ‘I can manage. And I can’t wait to perform again tonight. Leo and I are working really well together.’
‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ says Marc, and I hear that edge to his voice again.