by Kate Lattey
“I’m her father,” Dad told Anders firmly, and from the corner of my eye I saw him glance at me with a confused frown, probably wondering what he’d put himself into the middle of.
“I don’t care if you’re the King of the world, I’m not going anywhere with you,” I informed Dad firmly. I looked over at the rest of Anders’ team climbing into the bus, which had pulled up at the stop moments earlier. “And now you’re making me miss my bus.”
I grabbed my bag and tried to take a step towards it, but Dad moved in front of me, blocking my progress. I was starting to see red when Anders reached out and grabbed my hand, closing his fingers around my balled up fist. Just then, I was too angry to properly appreciate it, but I could feel my skin starting to tingle against his sweaty palm.
“I’ll give Katy a ride.” He was talking to Dad, not even asking me, but I was hardly going to argue. “I know where she lives.
The look on Dad’s face was priceless as he immediately sized Anders up, and again I wished that he really was my boyfriend, and that he’d always be there to stand up against my dad. He could probably take him, too. Dad was reasonably fit and trim, with none of the extra pounds that other people’s fathers carried around, but Anders was younger and stronger. The muscles in his arms were tensed as he stared Dad down, and I shifted my weight closer to him, trying to add to the illusion.
“I drove half an hour out of my way to see you,” Dad told me bitterly.
“Sorry to be such a freakin’ inconvenience,” I snapped back. “Nobody asked you to.”
The anger in my voice made it wobble, and Anders pushed my balled fist open and threaded his fingers between mine, then gave my hand a gentle squeeze. He was making it even harder to breathe, but I never wanted him to let go.
Dad’s eyes dropped to our intertwined hands, and he shook his head, finally realising that he was beaten. “Fine. I’ll come by later and take you to dinner. We really need to talk.”
As if I’d go. Dad didn’t give me a chance to argue though, turning on his heel after one last look at Anders, and striding back to his SUV.
Anders released my hand. “You okay?” I nodded, but the adrenalin was flooding out of my body and I felt strangely teary all of a sudden.
“Yeah. Thanks for that. He’s…” I couldn’t find the words to describe how awful my father was, so I just shrugged.
Anders gave a sympathetic half-smile. “Parents, eh? C’mon. I promised I’d take you home, so I guess I’d better. But if it’s okay with you, I’ve got a detour in mind.”
Anders’ idea of a detour turned out to be the drive-thru at Burger King. Not exactly the most romantic venue, but somehow he’d made sitting in a car wiping mayonnaise off his chin look hot.
“Come on, eat up,” he told me, and I forced another tepid French fry into my mouth. I hated fast food, and I knew it was going to make me feel sick later, but I couldn’t say no to him.
“I’m not all that hungry,” I told him, ignoring the greasy burger that was sitting at the bottom of the paper bag on my lap.
“And here I thought I was saving you from dinner with your old man.” He shot me a suspicious look. “You’re not on a diet, are you?”
I shook my head slowly, but had to ask. “What’s wrong with a diet?”
“Waste of time. Life’s for living, not starving yourself. Besides, you don’t need to diet. If you get any skinnier, I won’t be able to see you from side on.”
I pushed three more fries into my mouth and forced myself to chew. “I’m not on a diet. I’m just not a big eater, that’s all.”
I thought about Molly then, and hoped she was okay. Wondered if she was eating properly, and if Susannah had noticed if she wasn’t.
Wondered if she missed me as much as I missed her.
CHAPTER NINE
I pushed Molly determinedly to the back of my mind for the rest of the week, trying in vain to distract myself with schoolwork, riding the ponies I had left, doctoring Lucas and Robin as best as I could and helping AJ train Squib. But I had too much restless energy and nowhere to direct it, and in eventual frustration, I got up early on Tuesday morning and went for a run. I’ve never been much of a sports enthusiast, but I found that running helped me to relax. The rhythm of my feet slapping against the tarmac was strangely hypnotic, and only when my lungs were bursting and I was struggling to draw in breath did I stagger back to a walk, hands on hips and dragging in oxygen, waiting for my heart rate to return to some semblance of normal. Then I was off again, running until I was red in the face and dripping with sweat. Then home and straight into the shower, letting the hot water ease my aches and pains.
I ran before school and in the evenings, after the ponies had been ridden and the boxes been mucked out, before collapsing at the kitchen table to do my homework. I soon discovered that if I hadn’t been for a run, I couldn’t think straight. If I hadn’t run, my legs went all jittery and I kept feeling strange waves of panic washing over me, trying to drown me in some kind of inexplicable anxiety. Sitting still, I felt trapped. But when I was running, I felt free.
Dad had been turned away that afternoon when he’d tried to pick me up from school, but he wore Mum down eventually, and on Friday night he turned up at the door and again insisted on taking me out for dinner. Both of my parents ignored my protests about being blindsided, and when I went into my room and slammed the door, Mum came after me.
“Katy, would you just do this, please? For me?”
I stared at her, my planned protestations about how I shouldn’t have to spend time with the man dying on my lips. “For you?”
“Yes. He won’t stop ringing me and demanding to see you. So can you go with him tonight to get him out of my hair? Just be your usual self, and I’m sure he won’t want anything to do with either of us by the time you’re through.”
Ouch. She was kidding, sort of, but it still stung. Even my mother thought I was hard to love. There’s a ringing endorsement for you.
I was tired of arguing. “Fine, whatever. Get out of here while I get changed.”
Mum walked off with a smug look on her face while I dragged a pair of jeans and a reasonably clean white top on, shoved my feet into the cowboy boots that I’d bought last summer but kept losing the confidence to wear, because I felt like they made me stand out too much. I didn’t care anymore, and I liked the boots. Besides, they were the only heels I owned, and I wanted to be as tall and sophisticated as possible tonight. I found some lipstick and brushed my hair out, then marched down the hall into the kitchen where my father was waiting.
“Let’s go then.”
He took me to a steak house, a loud and family-friendly venue with waitresses in jeans and red polo shirts. The rugby was playing on a screen on the wall, and Dad kept shooting surreptitious glances at it when he thought I wasn’t looking. I wanted to tell him that if he wanted to see the game he should’ve just stayed home and watched it, but didn’t want to initiate any conversation, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Are you ready to order?” The waitress was young and blonde and I wondered if she was my father’s type. He ordered while I stared down at the menu in my hands and wondered what on earth I was going to eat. They were both looking at me now, the waitress’ pen poised over her pad, Dad staring expectantly at me. Waiting for a decision.
I ran my eye down the list of menu options again. “What do you have that’s vegetarian?”
The waitress looked taken aback at the thought of someone who didn’t eat meat coming to a steak house, and Dad frowned at me. “You’re not a vegetarian.”
“How would you know?” I challenged him, and he shot an apologetic look at the waitress.
“Your mother never said anything,” he replied, looking a bit worried. Well no, she wouldn’t have, since I’d only just now decided to be vegetarian. I didn’t tell him that.
“We do a ranch salad,” the waitress offered. “I can have them take the chicken and bacon out. I mean, prepare it without the chicken and bacon. If
you’d like.”
“Fine, I’ll have that.” I was tempted to change my mind and order steak and chips, just to mess with them, but I couldn’t be bothered. I handed the menu back to the girl, who hurried off gratefully to the kitchen, and Dad rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers together, looking at me like I was some strange new specimen.
“What did you want to talk about?” Might as well get it over with.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Well, I don’t particularly want to talk to you,” I told him.
He sighed. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I didn’t stick around, and I’m sorry that I didn’t stay in touch, but I thought it would be for the best, in the long run.”
“For the best?” I stared at him. “Seriously? Come on. Pull the other one, Dad.” I hated saying that word, but I couldn’t bring myself to call him Lionel. Even after all this time, it felt too weird. Besides, he should be reminded that he was my father. Even if he didn’t want to be.
Time to get this over with. “You want to talk, then talk. Let’s start with telling me why you left.” The waitress had been heading towards our table with a pitcher of water, but as my voice carried towards her, I saw her hesitate, then pivot and go back to the bar. Probably safest. “Wait, don’t bother. I already got that memo. So she dumped you, huh?”
Dad frowned at me. “Who did?”
“Don’t play games with me. The woman you left Mum for.”
Dad blinked three times in rapid succession, and I felt my heart clench. That was something that I did. I hadn’t realised I got it from him. “I didn’t leave your mother for another woman. Who told you that?”
The vice around my heart squeezed tighter. “Yes you did. A younger, blonder, prettier…” My voice died away at the look on my father’s face. I didn’t like him and I didn’t really trust him but I could tell that he was genuinely shocked by my comments.
“Did your mother…” He broke off and clenched his lips together tightly, looking away from me for a moment while he regained his composure. “I’m sorry if that’s what Deb told you, but that’s not what happened at all.” He shook his head in frustration. “Unbelievable.”
I wondered if he knew that if he started slagging off Mum in front of me, I’d be out of there like a robber’s dog. “So what? You just got sick of us?” A horrible thought occurred to me, but I forced myself to say it out loud. “Was it me?” Am I really that awful of a person that neither of my parents can stand me?
To his credit, he was adamant about that. “No. Definitely not. Leaving you was the hardest part.”
“So why then? Why just walk away?”
Dad took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Over his head, one of the rugby players onscreen was sprinting down field with the opposing team in hot pursuit. Half of the people in the restaurant were sitting on the edges of their seats, craning their necks towards the action.
“It wasn’t you. It was your mother.”
A ripple of sighs emanated from people around us as the player was tackled a few metres short of the line. I didn’t care about the game, but it was hard to look at Dad, because I had a sneaking suspicion that I wasn’t going to like what he was about to tell me.
“You were so young, you didn’t see it. But your mother and I had been having trouble for some time.” The team in yellow turned the ball over, and one of the players in a red jersey got it. He dropped it onto his foot and it sailed downfield. I thought of Anders, and wondered if he’d be playing at that level one day. If he’d be on TV, and I’d be able to watch it and say I know him.
Dad was still talking. I didn’t want to listen, but I couldn’t help it. “She was never any good at managing her money. She might be better now, I don’t know, but back then…” He shook his head, and I made reluctant eye contact with him.
She’s not, I thought. Mum was always spending money we didn’t have, which was part of the reason we didn’t have a Molly fund, but I didn’t want to admit to any weakness of hers in front of Dad.
“She stopped working after you were born, and relied heavily on my income. Not that I minded, but we were already living beyond our means, so I was forced to fold my business and take a job in Napier. I didn’t really want to, didn’t like the job or the boss, but the money was good and I wanted to provide for my family. I did my best, Katy.”
The waitress brought our food then, and Dad thanked her. I picked up my fork and prodded at the salad, which was covered in thick ranch dressing. My stomach clenched at the sight of it, and I set my fork down again.
“But your mother spent the money as fast as I made it, and we never seemed to be able to climb out of debt. When we found the farm, I was relieved at first. It was small enough to be affordable, even if we’d have to scrimp a bit on other costs, and it would be years before we could do any renovations to the house. Deb agreed readily when I told her that we’d have to stop spending money if we bought the place, but once we’d moved in, she was back to her old ways.”
My throat was dry, and I wished the waitress had had the guts to bring us that pitcher of water. Dad cut a piece off his steak and raised it halfway to his mouth, then kept talking.
“I’ve always been careful with money. I’ve had to be. My family was never flush, but my parents lived well within their means, so that there was always enough for us to be comfortable. They hadn’t approved of Deb in the first place, thought she was too flaky, and maybe they were right. But…”
“But she was pregnant,” I filled in. The rugby team in red jerseys were running hard, and I watched the ball be flicked from one player to the next, quick as lightning, barely landing in someone’s hands before being sent to the next. They ran in formation, weaving past the hapless opposition until finally one of the players side-stepped his way past the guy in yellow and dived across the line, driving the ball down into the grass. A chorus of moans and grumbles filled the restaurant, and Dad’s eyes flickered to the screen behind me.
“You were saying?”
“She was pregnant,” he nodded. “And you were such a beautiful baby. I was so proud of you.” I wished he’d stop talking in the past tense. “I wanted you to have everything, but Deb was making it impossible for me to save for the things you really needed. Education. Travel. All of the opportunities I wanted to give you.”
“You never wanted me to have ponies,” I reminded him. I shoved a bit of lettuce into my mouth and chewed. The dressing stuck to my tongue, and I had to force myself to swallow.
“I think it’s great that you had ponies,” Dad contradicted me. “You loved them – still do, by the looks of it. And that’s fantastic, and I’m so proud of how good you are. I’ve seen all your winnings, and I’m so impressed. But I admit, I didn’t see why an eight-year-old needed five ponies. They were taking up every spare second of your life. I barely saw you. And when I wasn’t working, you and your mother were off at horse shows, travelling up and down the country.”
Some excuse that was. “You could’ve come with us.”
He shrugged. “I’m not much of a horseman, you know that. And I wanted us to have something else, something separate. Something that was ours, because I was already aware that my relationship with your mother wasn’t going to last the distance, and I didn’t want to lose you when it came apart. But Deb had you under her thumb, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find a way in.”
The rugby players jogged off the field for halftime, and I finally looked at my father’s earnest expression.
“Did you fight for me? After you left. Did you try and see me?”
“You don’t remember?”
I shook my head, and Dad blinked again, three times in swift succession. I wished he’d stop.
“Of course I tried. But on the few occasions that I managed to wrestle you away from her, you retreated into a little shell and would hardly talk to me. We had nothing in common, and the one time I tried to get you to spend the night away from her, you
cried until I took you home.”
“I got homesick,” I muttered, feeling a hot flush fill my cheeks. I didn’t want to admit to him that homesickness was something that still affected me at times. Stupid, at my age, but not something I’d yet managed to completely control.
“I didn’t know if it was that, or because you hated me, or that she’d made you so dependant on her that you couldn’t be away from her for more than a few hours at a time. And then I got the job offer in Wellington, so I moved down there. I didn’t want to, but the money was good and I needed to pay my debts somehow before I ended up completely bankrupt.”
“It can’t have been that bad.”
“It was close. Everything was in my name, but she had full access to my account. Stupid of me not to cut her off, but she refused to be one of those women who are only given an allowance by their husbands, and I couldn’t bring myself to do that either. It seemed too unfair, and controlling. But when she bought that horse truck without even asking me, knowing that we couldn’t afford it…” He shook his head. “That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. That was when I knew I had to leave or we’d end up with nothing left at all.”
He started eating his steak and I picked at my salad as his words sunk in. He was right about Mum being hopeless with money. We didn’t have much, so we had to be reasonably careful, but I could imagine the temptation for her of a seemingly bottomless bank account that she had full access to. I started remembering more things. Hearing them fight, yelling and slamming doors, Dad angrily shouting that I didn’t need any more ponies and Mum saying that she was only buying them to make me happy, and if he knew his daughter at all he wouldn’t want to take her happiness away from her. I’d hide out in the stables until they were done, petrified that Dad would get his way and the ponies would be sold. That was why I’d always been on Mum’s side, and why I’d always been nervous around my father. He was always angry, or so it had seemed to me. Mum would reassure me that he’d be fine, he was just grumpy but he loved us really and he wanted us to have the ponies. I think she’d genuinely had herself convinced, and I wondered if she’d seen his departure coming at all.