Our Father Who Are Out There...Somewhere

by AJ Taft

  “Upstairs?” asks Jo.

  Lily’s eyebrows meet in the centre of her face. They hadn’t got this far in the plan. She nods. Fiona sees the nod and grips onto the banister with both hands. Her schoolbag drops to the floor. “I’m not going upstairs.”

  “Oh yes you are,” says Jo.

  “Why does it stink?” asks Fiona, her voice high.

  “Don’t be so bloody rude,” says Jo, trying to loosen Fiona’s grip on the banister. “Get her other hand, Lily.”

  As Lily prises Fiona’s left fingers from the stair-rail, Fiona opens her mouth and emits a scream that cuts through Lily’s central nervous system. Lily lets go of the one finger she’s managed to prise from its grip and puts her hands to her ears. “Alright, alright.”

  Fiona continues screaming.

  “Shut up.” Lily shouts the last two words at the top of her lungs. Fiona stops screaming, her cheeks are flushed red. Lily savours a second of silence, before saying, “We can do it in the front room.”

  Lily steps into the front room, stooping to pick up a polystyrene box, half full of cold chips and curry sauce, and drops it in the bin-liner that is propped up against the wall. Then she pulls back the curtains and is about to open the window, but stops herself. Textbook stuff; keep the windows closed.

  Fiona looks around the dim room, with the wallpaper peeling off above the gas fire which is lit. She swallows audibly. “What do you want? I haven’t got any money with me.”

  “I don’t want your stupid money.” Lily leaves the room and returns moments later with two tumblers and the vodka bottle. She pours Jo and herself a drink, and then, as an afterthought, says to Fiona, “Do you want one?”

  Fiona shakes her head.

  Lily drinks more than half of her vodka without pausing for breath. She wipes her lips on the back of her sleeve and watches Fiona take in the contents of the room. “I’m sorry there’s no settee. I’ve, er, I’ve just bought a new one, waiting for it to be delivered. It was supposed to be here last week.” Lily raises her eyebrows and tut-tuts in a way she hopes will portray her general dismay at the furniture delivery industry. She smoothes out a corner of the quilt on their bed-cum-settee in the corner of the room, swatting off broken crisps. “Do you want to sit on here?”

  “No.”

  “Sit,” says Jo.

  Fiona stares at Jo for a moment and then folds her long colt-like legs beneath her, and perches on the edge of the mattress, barely making contact with the fabric. Jo sits on the floor by the window. They all look at each other expectantly as silence fills the room. When her mother was alive, Bert was a constant presence, always here when Lily got home from school, sprawled on the sofa with his Special Brew, as her mother grazed her way through a box of Family Circle biscuits. But now the house feels too small for three people. Lily paces in front of the fire, fighting the urge to run. Jo and Fiona both look up at her, Jo nodding encouragingly. Lily drains the rest of her glass.. “So,” she says, “I’m sorry we lied. We tried to think of a lie that wouldn’t worry you so much, but we couldn’t think of a good one. Anyway, your mum’s fine, which is more than my mum is, so that’s good. Good for you. So, so we wanted to talk to you because… because.”

  Fiona is staring at Lily, her eyes wide. Lily focuses on the badge on the breast pocket of Fiona’s blazer. It looks like two unicorns carrying a shield between them. Lily tries to make out the letters, ‘Fortis est Veritas. She wonders what it means, almost asks but then Jo stands up and starts talking. “We’re pissed off with your dad.”

  Fiona’s face crumples into a frown. “My dad?”

  She says it in a tone of utter disbelief; like it was the last thing on earth she expected Jo to say. “Did he used to teach you?”

  “No,” says Lily, pouring another vodka. “He hasn’t taught me anything.”

  “Then...”

  “Your dad is a lying, cheating coward and we think he needs to be taught a lesson.”

  “What?” asks Fiona, the confusion evident in every inch of her body.

  “Your dad,” Jo pauses and shifts her gaze from Fiona to a stain on the wall behind her, “your father is actually Lily’s father and Lily wanted to meet him, because she’s never met him. Which is fair enough, I think. Don’t you?”

  Fiona’s mouth opens like she may be about to say something, but no words come out.

  “And Lily asked nicely and he said no, no way. He refused to meet his own flesh and blood. Which makes him a lying, cheating coward.” Jo turns to Lily. “And he has to pay for that.”

  Fiona doesn’t move. She sits on the edge of the mattress, as if waiting for a punch line. Lily watches Fiona’s cheeks turn red as she shakes her head. She licks her lips before speaking. “No way. I’m really sorry but you’ve got the wrong person.”

  Jo copies Fiona’s head shake. “I’m really sorry but we haven’t.”

  “You have, there’s been a terrible mix up. There’s no way Daddy would… I mean there’s just no way.” Fiona smiles with the absolute confidence of someone who has never been lied to, disappointed, betrayed. Her whole body relaxes, like someone has pulled out the plug. Her shoulders sink half an inch. Lily slips quietly from the room as she hears Jo start to explain about how the Salvation Army tracked him down. Jo shows Fiona the letter from the Salvation Army as Lily re-enters the lounge.

  “That doesn’t prove anything.” Fiona says. She turns to Lily. “You must have a father with the same name or something. This is a case of mistaken identity. I’m an only child. Daddy always says, before he had me he wanted six children, and then when I was born, he realised he had everything he wanted.”

  Lily stands in the corner of the room, leaning against the door, clutching the wedding album to her chest, waiting to hear more; in fact, willing Fiona to continue, to share more happy vignettes of nuclear family life, but Fiona sees her expression and falls silent. Lily waits a few moments and then hands her the wedding album.

  Fiona sits back down on the bed-settee, shaking her head as she opens the first page. She smiles when she sees the first picture, the one of Pamela rushing in through the rain. “That’s not my mum.”

  “No. She’s mine, was mine. Keep going.”

  Fiona turns the next page and her eyes widen as she takes in the picture of Lily’s parents happily entwined. She turns another page, and another. Her cheeks are flaming red. “God, there’s Granny.”

  Lily cranes her neck to see which photo Fiona was looking at. It’s a group photograph with several elderly people in the frame. “Which?”

  Fiona points her out with the thumb on her left hand, while the right index finger traces over the rest of the people in the photograph. “I can’t believe it. Nobody has ever, ever, ever said a word to me, I swear.”

  “Is Granny still…” Lily’s voice falters.

  Fiona looks up at her. “What, alive? Oh God, yes. She was bungee jumping in Australia last year. Daddy… Dad, always says she’ll outlive everybody, even me. I can’t believe he’s lied to me. There’s Auntie Sue, Uncle Norman.” Fiona’s eyes are bright with tears.

  “All I wanted was a chance to meet him; to find out something of where I’m from.”

  Fiona takes in a deep breath. “Just because they were married, doesn’t mean, I mean, he might not be your dad. Maybe that’s why he left. Maybe your mum had an affair.”

  “My mum did not have an affair,” Lily shouts, almost blown off her feet by the wave of anger that surges up inside her. Without a moment’s hesitation she launches herself at Fiona, knocking the schoolgirl backwards. There’s a loud thwack as Fiona’s head hits the wall behind the mattress. Lily grabs one of Fiona’s plaits and pulls her head up off the bed, so that Fiona’s face is only centimetres from her own. “Don’t you dare... She loved him all her life. He was the only man she ever loved. And when he left her, it killed her. Do you understand?”

  Fiona’s face is pale and when Lily lets go of the clump of hair, Fiona falls backwards again, banging her head a sec
ond time, but with less force. Her eyes close. “Steady on there, Lil” says Jo, coming over from the other side of the room. She hauls Lily up off Fiona and the mattress. Lily sways as she tries to find her feet.

  “Is she ok?” asks Jo. Fiona is lying, pale and lifeless on the mattress, her head slumped at an odd angle.

  The gas fire hisses quietly as Lily observes Fiona’s form. After a few seconds, Lily turns to the bottle of vodka sitting on top of the gas fire and pours herself another shot. She fills the glass to the brim from the carton of almost fresh orange and takes a mouthful.

  “Course, she is,” she says as she flings the contents of the glass over Fiona’s face. Fiona’s eyes open immediately and she sits up, spluttering and trying to wipe the juice from her eyes. “See?”

  Jo exhales deeply. She feels in her pocket for her packet of Marlboro’s and lights one, running her left hand through her spiked hair as she smokes with her right.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” says Fiona, her eyes filling with tears, or vodka and orange. Lily isn’t sure which.

  Lily runs from the room and up the stairs. She comes back a moment later and throws a folded piece of paper at Fiona. It lands on the mattress next to her but she doesn’t reach for it. Instead she asks, “Is your mum…”

  “Dead.” Lily finishes the sentence for her and reaches across to take the lit fag Jo is handing to her.

  “I am so sorry,” says Fiona, and from her tone of voice, Lily believes her. “When, how old were you… when she...?”

  “She died two months ago.”

  Fiona looks at her. “I don’t understand.”

  Lily takes a deep drag of the fag before speaking. “The life went out of her when he went. He might as well have shot her on his way out of the door. She never recovered. It just took nineteen years for her body to die.”

  Jo sits back down on the floor and takes her tobacco tin out as Fiona studies the picture of Lily’s mum in the album.

  “That’s not the mum I knew,” says Lily. “In fact, I didn’t even recognise her at first.” Lily goes to a drawer in the dresser and rummages through the over-spilling mishmash of pools coupons and take away menus. She pulls out a dog-eared photo, a picture she’d taken on one of the rare occasions she’d managed to get her mother out of the house and into the garden. She’s sat on a low wall, wearing a grey dress that could double up as a scout tent. The photo is seven or eight years old, and her mother is half the size she was when she died, but still immense. Her face is almost lost, drowned in a sea of fat. Fiona recoils.

  The doorbell rings, causing all three of them to jump. Lily hisses. “Get down.”

  Jo jumps across the room and pushes Fiona so that’s she horizontal on the mattress. “Ow,” says Fiona, rubbing her head.

  Lily runs to the window, puts her back against the wall and peers round the curtains. “Oh bloody hell. It’s Bert. Hang on I’ll get rid of him.” She turns to Fiona. “Be quiet.”

  Lily opens the front door, “What’s up?”

  “Just wondered if you wanted to come round, watch the snooker, have a drink.”

  “Ah thanks, Bert, can’t right now. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “What are you up to?” He tries to look over her shoulder.

  Lily adjusts her position to block his view.

  “Who’ve you got in there? Come on out, whoever you are,” he shouts over Lily’s shoulder.

  “Hel-”, Fiona starts to shout, but Jo is on her straight away, pushing her into the mattress and lying her short but weighty body over the top of Fiona’s. She clasps her hand across Fiona’s mouth.

  Fiona stares at Jo as Jo holds up the piece of paper Lily threw at Fiona earlier. Jo opens it out with her left hand, her right still clasped over Fiona’s mouth, as she sits straddling Fiona’s body. It’s Lily’s birth certificate, blue round the edges from spending so many years hidden in her school bag. There’s a column entitled ‘Father’, and Fiona sees ‘David Winterbottom’ typed in it. Jo releases her hand from Fiona’s face, just a centimetre at first. Fiona holds her breath as they both listen to Lily.

  “It’s just a friend from college,” Lily is saying to Bert. “She’s come to visit.”

  “Bring her round too. What’s with all the secrets? I’ve got Hula Hoops.”

  “Tempting, Bert, but not today. I’ve got to go. I’m making tea. I’ll see you.” She closes the door in his face and goes back to the front room. Fiona is sitting mutely on the bed. Jo smiles at Lily.

  “I can’t believe it,” Fiona says again, as she takes off her blazer. She glances around for a place to hang it, before folding it neatly in half lengthways, and laying it flat on the edge of the mattress.

  “Yeah, well. I had to believe it,” says Lily, pouring herself another drink. “I didn’t get the choice.”.”

  “He can’t have known she was pregnant. Daddy… Dad, would never leave his own child, I’m absolutely sure of that,” although her voice doesn’t give the impression of someone secure in her facts.

  “He was having an affair the whole time she was pregnant. My Aunt Edie told me. Everyone knew about it.”

  “Probably wasn’t getting enough sex once he’d got his wife up the duff,” says Jo.

  “But-” says Fiona.

  Lily interrupts. “What about the letter he wrote to the Salvation Army? I asked them to help me trace him. He wrote back to them. The guy read me his letter down the phone. It didn’t say, ‘what are you talking about? I don’t have another daughter’.”

  “Did he say-”

  “He said, ‘I have no wish to communicate’. The ‘no’ was in capital letters and underlined. Did I mention that?” A gob of spit flies out of Lily’s lips and lands on the floor in front of Fiona. “He didn’t even send note for them to pass on to me to explain. That’s what makes me so mad.”

  A solitary tear runs down Fiona’s right cheek. “I saw him get the letter. He opened it in front of me. I saw the Salvation Army written across the top. I thought...” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Two more tears spill down her face. She doesn’t wipe them. Instead she picks up the photo album and turns to another page “My whole family’s here. Mum’s going to kill him when she finds out.”

  “Fiona, you’re nearly sixteen years old. I’m nineteen. It was probably your mum he was having the affair with.”

  Fiona shakes her head firmly. “You don’t understand. Mum’s a lawyer, a really good one. She represents women who’ve been abandoned by their husbands. There's no way she’d marry someone who hasn’t taken responsibility for his… no way.”

  Jo starts to roll a spliff. Lily sits on the floor at the edge of the mattress and scratches her arms.

  Fiona continues to turn the pages in the wedding album. “They didn’t get married in church. I always thought that was odd; we go to church every Sunday.” Jo and Lily both nod but Fiona doesn’t notice. “They got married in the Registry Office; Mum said she didn’t want a big fuss.”

  Jo raises a single eyebrow.

  “But you’re not allowed to get married in church if you’re divorced are you?” Fiona looks to them for answers. Lily, having only set foot in a church on two occasions; her Aunt Edie’s fake funeral and her mother’s, shrugs her shoulders.

  “When did your parents get divorced?” asks Fiona.

  “I don’t even know that they did.”

  “My parents got married in 1971, three years before I was born.”

  “I was born in 1970, August.”

  “But Daddy said they were going out with each other for two years before they got married. Daddy always says you should spend as long as possible getting to know someone, before making any kind of commitment.”

  “Daddy tells lies,” says Jo. She licks the Rizla to seal the spliff. “I think that’s clear.”

  Fiona stands up in front of Lily, her bright eyes begging for a different explanation; one that doesn’t involve her father having lied to her, her whole life. Lily looks away. Jo lights the spliff an
d goes over to the window.

  “I’m not even allowed to go friends’ houses unless their parents are at home. He’s so worried that boys might be there. And when I tell him he should trust me, he says he does trust me, he just doesn’t trust teenage boys.” Fiona sits back down on the bed and looks at the photo album again.

  “He knows what boys are capable of. He knows what bastards men are. How does he know?” Jo asks the room as she exhales a plume of smoke. “Because he is one.”

  “He absolutely hates the fact I’ve got a boyfriend,” Fiona murmurs, as she turns another page. “He can hardly bring himself to mention his name. We’ve been having the most dreadful rows about it. And all the time he knows he cheated on his pregnant wife, and then abandoned his own baby?” Her voice rises an octave. “I just cannot, cannot believe it.”

  Jo glances at the clock. It’s almost four. Already they won’t get Fiona home on time. Not that that was ever the intention, but now they are committed. People will start worrying soon. “What are we going to do? I mean, it’s getting late.”

  “What are you planning to do? I mean, you wanted to bring me here and show me this why? What did you think I would do? Have it out with my dad?”

  Lily looks first at Jo and then at Fiona. “I wanted you to stay here for a night, without your dad knowing where you were, because I wanted him to feel what it’s like to go to sleep for a night and not know where your family is.”

  “What if I go home and talk to him about it?”

  “That doesn’t really help me,” says Lily. “I’m sick of wondering what he’s thinking, or how he’s justifying it, or who knows what. This is the first time in my life where I’m the one that knows what’s happening.” She grins at Jo, the alcohol content in her stomach finally overcoming the adrenalin. “I kinda like it.”