What Goes Down: An emotional must-read of love, loss and second chances

by Natalie K. Martin

  Nico took one look at her face and laughed. ‘Don’t worry, we’re definitely going back outside. So, what do you fancy?’ He pulled out his wallet. ‘Beer, wine, G & T? Jägerbomb?’

  Seph laughed again. ‘I think I’ll stick to a glass of wine, thanks.’

  ‘I know this place looks like something from the dark ages, but they’ve got a pretty decent wine selection,’ Nico replied, and they looked up at the list of drinks written on the chalkboard behind the bar. ‘The Riesling’s pretty good.’

  ‘Perfect. Riesling’s my favourite.’

  ‘Same.’

  Her phone beeped in her bag and she turned away for a second to unlock the screen. She sped her thumbs across the keypad, replying to Ben’s message, asking if she’d met him and if she was okay. Everything was okay. It was perfect, in fact. Soon, she’d be back out in the sun with a chilled glass of wine, ready to start getting to know her biological father. She switched the phone to silent and put it back in her bag. She wanted to spend the time with Nico without interruption.

  ‘So, if you’re a Riesling fan, what’s with the Coke?’ Seph asked as the barman handed them their drinks.

  ‘I probably should’ve said it was my favourite. I don’t really drink these days.’

  Seph had drunk a little more than usual lately in order to unwind, but she rarely ever indulged in the middle of the day. Then again, today wasn’t like any other. The nerves bubbling away in her stomach as they made their way back outside and claimed a table was proof of that.

  ‘Cheers.’ Nico grinned, holding his glass out towards her.

  She tapped her glass against his and returned his grin. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘It’s really nice to see you. You look…’ He laughed a little and shook his head. ‘I was going to say you look all grown up but that’s pretty obvious.’

  Seph laughed as the sun beat down on her arms.

  ‘You look great,’ he added.

  ‘Thanks. So do you.’ She laughed again at the weirdness of her reply, the nerves fizzing in her stomach and popping at the back of her throat like champagne.

  She put her bag on the table and laid her hat on top of it. A group of school kids wearing blue outer vests walked past in twos, holding hands. Everywhere she looked there were tourists, fanning themselves with maps or fiddling with cameras. The West End was a place she rarely ventured to these days. It was gaudy, full of neon lights and steakhouses that never seemed to have anyone in them. The glamour it had held when George was alive had long gone, but she had to admit that sitting outside of a pub with a good glass of wine made a nice change to being cooped up in her studio, smeared with paint.

  She looked at Nico again and smiled nervously before taking a sip of her wine. What should they talk about first? Would it be weird to go straight in with the heavy stuff, or should they keep it light? Seph nibbled on the inside of her lip. Why hadn’t she thought to look online for inspiration? She should’ve Googled it: What should I say when I meet my dad for the very first time? As she took another sip of wine, a small delivery van drove past with its windows rolled down and music playing loudly.

  ‘I love this song,’ she said, automatically tapping her foot.

  Nico looked at her with surprise as he took off his tie. ‘You like Depeche Mode?’

  ‘I love them.’

  He laughed a little as he scrunched his tie up into a ball and put it on the table. ‘Get out. Depeche Mode has been my favourite band since I can remember.’

  ‘I’ve seen them a couple of times,’ Seph said. ‘They’re great live.’

  ‘I know. Well, the last time I saw them was back in eighty-six - the Black Celebration tour.’ He smiled with nostalgia. ‘I went twice. Once in London and again in Dortmund.’ He looked at Seph and shook his head, looking a little stunned. ‘I’d never have guessed you’d be into them.’

  Like father, like daughter? Seph grinned as they caught each other’s eyes. She wasn’t imagining this, was she? Because it felt special. With all of the different types of music, performers and bands in the world, what were the odds that their favourite would be the same? It had to be more than just a coincidence.

  Nico took a box of cigarettes from his pocket and pulled one out. ‘Smoke?’

  The little nicotine monster she’d been trying to kill since France reared its ugly head and nagged at her. Past experience told her that nothing would go better with her glass of wine, but she shook her head.

  ‘I quit.’

  ‘Good for you. Wish I’d have done, when I had the chance. I’m well and truly hooked.’ He lit the tip. ‘So you said you live in Dalston? Pretty trendy place that now, isn’t it?’

  Seph laughed dryly. ‘Just a bit.’

  ‘I remember when that place was a complete dump.’ Nico blew out a rush of smoke and shook his head. ‘I probably wouldn’t recognise it anymore.’

  ‘Yeah, I imagine it must’ve been really different back in your day.’ Seph grinned, feeling completely at ease with poking a little fun at him. ‘Where do you live again? You didn’t say on the phone.’

  It had been a relatively short conversation, maybe because she’d been too nervous to speak or maybe because he’d been too shocked to hear her voice, and now there were so many things she wanted to know.

  ‘Surbiton.’

  ‘You live in Surrey?’ Seph asked, her voice thick with surprise.

  Nico laughed a little and tapped his ash into the glass ashtray. ‘Why do you sound so surprised?’

  She shrugged and shook her head. ‘I just assumed you lived in London instead of the suburbs.’

  ‘My love affair with London ended a few years back. I couldn’t live here anymore. Couldn’t afford it any rate, especially not after the credit crash. Not the best time to be an estate agent.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Seph replied with a grimace.

  ‘It doesn’t make much difference in the end. My office is here, I’m here every day. I’ve just got a longer commute.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Surbiton’s not so bad. We can afford it and it’s a better place for Alexis than London.’

  ‘Who’s Alexis?’

  ‘Your sister.’

  Seph stared at him as he took another long drag of his cigarette. ‘I have a sister?’

  Nico nodded. ‘I mentioned her in the email, didn’t I?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head, stunned.

  ‘I’ve got a photo of her here.’

  As he reached into his pocket, Seph tugged the bottom of her shirt away from her damp back. He definitely hadn’t mentioned a sister. Had he? No, she was certain he hadn’t. She’d committed his email to memory, word by word. There was no way she could have missed something so huge.

  ‘I wrote so many versions of that email, I must have taken it out by mistake.’ He reached across the table, holding his wallet open. ‘There she is. That’s Alexis.’

  Something about the way he said her name struck a flame of envy, deep in Seph’s belly. Had he ever said her name like that to anyone? Like she was something to be proud of? Did he ever carry a photograph of her in his wallet to show people? She looked down at the picture of a little girl and her jealousy disappeared. She’d expected someone closer to her own age, but this girl with dark hair, a high forehead and the same dimples as Nico looked like she was still in primary school.

  ‘She’s so young,’ Seph said.

  ‘She’s nine. Ten in December but going on thirty with her attitude.’ He laughed and shook his head.

  Seph looked at the photo again. She’d always been just fine with being an only child. Of course it had been a little lonely now and again but for the most part, having no brothers or sisters had suited her. For one thing, her friends who did have siblings had always moaned about them being older and dismissive or younger and annoying. Seph liked not having anyone to fight with, or compete with for attention. She had two parents who’d lavished her with love, and that had been more than enough. Being an only child was just the way it was. Or had been.

/>   ‘Wow.’ Seph shook her head. ‘Does she know? About me, I mean?’

  Nico scrunched his cigarette into the ashtray and shook his head a fraction. ‘Not yet. I wanted to tell her but we decided to wait until after I met you today.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Me and Denise, my wife. We thought it better to wait, just in case.’

  Seph frowned. ‘In case I didn’t show?’

  He nodded, tapping a finger on his cigarette box and looked away for a second. A sudden bout of guilt hit her. While she’d been umming and ahhing about whether or not to reply to him, he’d probably been watching his email inbox like a hawk, waiting for something to come back.

  ‘I have to admit I was surprised when you called,’ he said.

  Seph twiddled the stem of her glass between her thumb and index finger. ‘Well, you surprised me with your email, so I guess that puts us both in the same boat.’

  He nodded back with a small smile. ‘Fair point.’ He ran a hand over his beard. ‘So, how do we do this?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  It was amazing. They had so much to catch up on, so much to talk about, but she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to start getting to the crux of things. Until now, it had felt like they were old friends catching up, and she didn’t want to ruin that. Instead of launching straight into accusations, she decided to start light.

  ‘How did you find me?’

  Nico leaned his elbows on the table. ‘I’ve always tried to keep track of you. And I’ve been following your work, too. You’re one hell of an artist.’

  Seph blushed and looked down into her glass. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I’m hopeless when it comes to art and I don’t really understand what it is exactly that you paint but, I like it.’

  She laughed. ‘That’s the thing with abstract art, it’s completely open to interpretation.’

  ‘Well, it’s really good.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She smiled again and fell silent for a few seconds before looking at him with serious eyes. ‘Why get in touch now? Why not five, ten, fifteen years ago?’

  ‘That’s a complicated question, with a complicated answer.’ He looked away briefly. ‘The honest answer is, I don’t really know. I don’t know what was different or what changed. But I’ve wanted to meet you for a long, long time.’

  He reached across the table and put a hand on top of hers. The skin on his fingers felt rough, as if he’d worked outside every day for most his life. The hands of a man who knew what hard work was, as her nana would have said. Had they always been like that? It was strange to think that somewhere on a molecular level, her skin already held the memory of his touch from a time she couldn’t remember.

  ‘Look, Seph. I’m really, really glad you came today. And I want you to know that I’m sorry for not being there.’ He looked directly at her and a little of his black-grey hair fell into his eyes. ‘I’m sorry for leaving you. Your mum too, but mainly you. It was a shitty thing to do, and I’m sorry.’

  Unexpected tears sprung in Seph’s eyes and she had to blink furiously to hold them back.

  ‘It was a really rough time and I was in a bad place,’ he continued. ‘Part of me will always regret leaving because I’ve missed out on so much. But the other part knows it was the right thing to do.’

  He paused, as if he were waiting for her to ask him to elaborate but for the first time since finding out about him, Seph pushed the question away. It was too much. This, being here with him on a perfect summer’s day, chatting easily and spending time together - it was so much more than she’d expected. She didn’t want to get into the heavy stuff right now and despite his pause, she was certain he didn’t want to ruin the moment either.

  ‘I know you’ve got a stepdad,’ Nico continued, ‘and I’d never want to get in the way, but maybe we could do this again sometime? Take some time to get to know each other a bit more?’

  His brown eyes, so much like hers, searched her face.

  Seph nodded, slowly at first. ‘Yeah, okay. I’d like that.’

  She didn’t owe Nico anything but today had gone so much better than she could ever have hoped for. Maybe Ben had been right. Maybe she’d end up like that small percentage of people she’d read about on those forums who’d ended up happy, with an additional dad in their lives.

  Seph picked up her glass and smiled. It was a long way to go, but it wasn’t as if they had to rush. They had twenty-something years’ worth of their lives to catch up on.

  LAUREL

  Thirteen

  September 1987

  The lift doors slid open, sending a shaft of light into the tiny, steel compartment. Laurel took a quiet gulp of air and stepped out onto the landing. Like always, she was relieved that they hadn’t plummeted back down to the bottom or, even worse, got stuck. She hitched the handles of the Safeway bags further up onto her wrists to stop them from digging into her skin.

  ‘See?’ Nico grinned, turning to look at her. ‘Told you you’d soon get used to it.’

  He must have mistaken her quietness as they’d ratcheted up eleven floors for confidence, because he winked knowingly. Despite her insides trembling, Laurel still managed a small laugh as she followed him down the landing. It was a stretch to say she was getting used to it. She’d never been keen on small spaces and everything about that lift, from the flickering off-white light and graffiti-scrawled steel walls to the musky, stale air made her nerves bolt.

  She followed Nico as he sauntered ahead of her along the landing. Music pounded from behind number fifty-five, and the mouth-watering scent of spices cooking trickled from the kitchen window of number fifty-six. Laurel picked over a tricycle as they continued down the narrow landing. Brixton couldn’t be any further away from the suburbia she’d grown up in. Her quiet little cul-de-sac had been replaced by a thirteen floor council block and instead of green fields behind her house, she was surrounded by buildings in varying shades of brown or grey. The air was thick with exhaust fumes and instead of falling asleep to silence, sirens were now her very own, personal lullaby. A shout blasted through the air and Laurel looked over the balcony. Three boys ran down the courtyard so fast that they looked like they were being chased. They probably were. She barely raised her eyebrows. She was quickly getting used to the place she now called home. It had life, culture and vibrancy, with drama and tension so tight she could feel it in the air.

  She remembered watching the news about the riots two years ago. The pictures of burnt out cars, riot police and Molotov cocktails looping through the air had been shocking. And now she was living here, in a place where men with thick dreadlocks swigged from bottles of Dragon Stout, where the children had intricately braided hair and her neighbours’ flats got raided. And the most surprising part of it all, was that it wasn’t a scary place to live. In fact, it was the opposite. Most people she’d met so far were friendly and welcoming. She’d already babysat for one neighbour and been invited to dinner at another a few doors down with Nico. They’d been treated to a full Jamaican spread, with spicy chicken, curried goat, rice cooked with kidney beans and a surprisingly tasty drink of Guinness mixed with milk. She’d loved it so much they’d given her some to take home, and had taken to dropping round leftovers whenever they cooked too much. Brixton had so much more of a feeling of community than back home ever did.

  ‘Home, sweet home,’ Nico said, dropping the bags as soon as they stepped inside the flat. ‘Can I leave you to put this stuff away while I nip up to Hassan’s?’

  Laurel tried not to let her shoulders drop as she rubbed the tender skin where the plastic bags had dug in. Hassan was a friend of his who, Nico said, was his facilitator. She pictured him as some kind of human Argos shop. All she really knew about him, was that his services weren’t free and whenever Nico disappeared upstairs to do whatever it was he did up there, it usually meant he’d be gone for a while.

  ‘Sure, no problem,’ she replied, masking her disappointment with a smile.

  She’d hoped tha
t they’d watch Ferris Bueller’s Day Off after dinner. It had to be taken back to the video shop tomorrow, but now he’d be going to Hassan’s, they probably wouldn’t have the time.

  Nico swept her up in his arms and kissed her firmly on the mouth once, twice and a third time. ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ she joked, rolling her eyes as he put her back down.

  He kissed her again and left her to unpack the shopping. She unloaded the bags, putting boxes of Findus Lean Cuisine in the freezer, packets of Wagon Wheels, Pop Tarts and Party Rings in the cupboard and emptying a multipack of crisps into a plastic bag hanging on the back of the kitchen door. It was the shopping haul of dreams, full of convenient, fast food that satisfied both her sweet tooth and Nico’s salty one. Laurel took a small bowl from the cupboard and filled it with apples. She’d forced herself to pick them up, hoping they’d counteract the spots on her face that had broken out since moving to London. The fruit bowl looked perfect in the middle of the small kitchen table. It was a little ironic that after hating her mum’s list of chores, she’d started to enjoy this new domesticity. She’d even sprinkled Shake ‘n’ Vac over the carpet last week.

  Nico’s flat was small. It had a patch of discoloured ceiling from an old leak and mould in the bathroom. The toilet seat was constantly cold and the walls were so thin, she could hear the neighbours’ sneeze. Laurel leaned on the edge of the sink and looked out of the window to the block opposite. She remembered imagining how Nico’s flat might have been when he’d asked her to move here with him and almost laughed at herself. She’d pictured a modern apartment on the Thames, with satin sheets and state of the art gadgets. But even though it had turned out to be a slightly damp, cramped one-bedroom flat on an estate in Brixton instead, it was real, and being here inspired her every day. She’d thought she loved photography before but now she was obsessed with it. In an area where so many people struggled to make a living and put food on the table, it felt like there was an unlimited amount of stories to be told. Life was, as her college lecturer had said, a matter of perspective. From where she was looking, it was pretty damned good.