by Jemma Forte
‘So give me an example. I mean do you reckon you could play something like Mozart’s Concerto No. 5?’
‘Oh yeah,’ I answer confidently.
‘Blimey,’ he says, looking quite in awe of this and shaking his head. His gaze is drawn to my hands, which are still fiddling with a packet of sugar.
‘May I?’ he asks, gesturing that he wants to have a look.
‘Er, sure,’ I say doubtfully, feeling strangely nervous as he reaches for my hand and turns it over.
‘Well, look at that,’ he says, commenting on the calloused fingertips of my left hand.
‘You think that’s bad, look at the thumb on my bow hand,’ I say, proffering it for him to examine.
‘Does it hurt?’
‘No, not at all, they’ve been toughened up. I won’t ever be asked to do any hand modelling but …’ I shrug, pulling my hands away again. Reality has suddenly crept in again. The minute he crosses a certain line and is too friendly I remember what he’s done and how much pain he’s caused me.
‘I told Mum you were out of prison by the way.’ I say this knowing full well it will break the spell. He can’t think he can just appear out of the blue and that everything will be normal straight away. It can’t be. It isn’t.
‘Oh right,’ he says, his face clouding over. ‘What did she have to say, then?’
‘She doesn’t want me seeing you.’
‘Well, that figures,’ he says, his expression darkening, at which point I can see how frightening he might appear if he was angry.
‘The minute I went inside it was like I was dead to her. Do you know she only visited once, and that was to tell me to stay away.’
In that moment, hearing that, I experience a pang of intense anger towards my mother. I know she had her reasons and I’m not saying that what Ray did was right. I mean, obviously it wasn’t. It was horrendous and had unspeakably tragic consequences but to have cut herself off from him in the way she did seems so clinical and cold. She knew full well what he was like and what he was up to when she was living with him, so why abandon him altogether?
‘So what did Hayley say?’ he says, interrupting my dark thoughts. ‘Did she say when I can see her?’
‘Um yeah but she’s just not sure when,’ I reply quickly, reluctant to tell him that if my instinct’s correct it won’t be a case of when, but if. Still, I’ll be doing my damn best to try and make it happen. Ray’s our dad and I’m starting to care less and less about what he’s done, and more and more about the fact that he’s here now, albeit a bit late, but here nonetheless. Just not for long.
CHAPTER NINE
A few days later, for the second time this week, I find myself sitting outside Hayley’s house. Only this time I called first to make sure she was going to be in. I sit listening to Capital Radio for a bit, summoning up the courage required for the task ahead. I’m tired. I made it into work today but it felt like the longest day ever. Jason was in a right strop with me. I’ve got so much on my mind that I forgot that, as far as he was concerned, I’d been ill. As a result, when he enquired after my health I looked totally vague at which point he guessed that I’d been lying. He then proceeded to pester me all day about what I’d really been doing, only I didn’t feel like explaining things to him just yet. In the salon with everybody ear-wigging didn’t feel like the right time or place, but he took my refusal to answer very personally and it had him questioning our friendship and whether or not I trusted him. Frankly it was the last thing I needed. I’ve got enough on my plate without putting up with his moods, too. It was a relief to escape.
Right, it’s time. I can’t put it off any longer. Hayley has a right to know what’s going on and I just hope she doesn’t shoot the messenger.
I ring the bell and start taking off my ballet flats – purposefully selected for the occasion – as she answers the door.
‘All right,’ says Hayley, who’s wearing a candy pink tracksuit. Her stomach still looks completely flat I notice, but her boobs are huge.
‘Your boobs have grown.’
‘I know, they’re massive aren’t they.’
‘Shame she won’t let me play with them,’ shouts a familiar voice through from the lounge. ‘What’s the point of having tits like that if I’m not allowed to go anywhere near them?’
My heart sinks.
‘Don’t mind me,’ he leers, strolling into the hall looking coiffed and sporting his spangliest t-shirt yet. ‘I’m off out with the boys. Don’t wait up babes,’ he says to Hayley, before kissing her on the cheek and patting her playfully on the bum.
‘I won’t. Have fun but don’t get too pissed. I can’t stand the smell of booze at the moment.’
Gary catches my eye and mimics her nagging to me. It’s not done with any affection though, so I ignore him. As he swaggers out I notice Hayley retch slightly. I don’t blame her. Gary has left a literal cloud of aftershave behind him. I feel like retching myself.
‘What do you want then?’ says Hayley once Gary’s gone and we’ve heard the souped-up engine of his BMW 3 Series revving down the cul-de-sac, doing its best to announce to the world what an idiot he is.
‘Because if Mum’s sent you here on a mission to nag me about Sing for Britain, you can cock off.’
‘She hasn’t,’ I say, wishing Hayley didn’t have to be so aggressive all the time. ‘I’ve come because I need to tell you something.’
‘What?’ says Hayley, padding through to the lounge and sinking into the squeaky, white settee. She tucks her feet prettily underneath her.
‘Well, this might come as a bit of a shock,’ I say, trying to cushion the blow. I don’t want my alarming news to affect the baby in any way. ‘Our dad, our real dad, isn’t in Australia.’
Hayley looks me straight in the eye. ‘You don’t say,’ she says drily.
‘No, he really isn’t,’ I insist, assuming she doesn’t believe me. ‘I know it sounds like a wind-up but he’s here.’
‘Right,’ she says, not looking even mildly interested.
‘You don’t look surprised,’ I say, wondering why the hell she doesn’t.
‘Oh Marianne, you didn’t believe all that shit about him being a pilot did you?’
I nod dumbly. Why would I not have?
‘You didn’t then I take it?’ I ask hesitantly, feeling betrayed yet again. Wasn’t anyone around here ever straight with me about anything?
Hayley shrugs. ‘So where’s the scumbag been all this time then?’
‘He was in prison.’
‘Figures,’ she says, pretending to examine one of her acrylic nails though I can tell this piece of news has had an impact.
‘Yeah, but he’s out. In fact he got out eight years ago,’ I say, almost wincing as I say it.
‘Eight years ago,’ she exclaims looking just as outraged as I had when I found out, which is quite comforting somehow. It feels incredibly important that Hayley and I are on the same page about all of this to at least some extent.
‘Yeah I know,’ I say. ‘That’s how I felt when I heard.’
‘I half-expected him to be in prison, or something like that,’ says Hayley angrily. ‘Whenever Mum mentioned him and told people all that crap about him fucking off to Australia, I could tell it was bullshit. I could tell something had happened that she was too ashamed to tell the neighbours about. But why didn’t the bastard come and see us as soon as he got out? And anyway, how do you know all this?’
‘Because I saw him.’
At last Hayley looks satisfyingly flummoxed. ‘When?’
‘Last Sunday. Don’t tell Mum, but he came to the house.’
‘Cheeky bastard,’ says Hayley rolling her eyes, which are suddenly looking a bit tearful, heavenward. She looks like she’s struggling to keep her emotions intact so I reach over to take her hand. However, the minute my hand makes contact with hers, she pulls hers away. ‘This family,’ she snaps. ‘Always a bloody drama. Anyway, I need something to drink. Do you want a Coke?’ she says, stom
ping off to the kitchen.
‘No thanks,’ I call after her. It seems so sad that Hayley feels unable, or just is unable, to display any emotion in front of me whatsoever. Like it’s a sign of weakness.
Minutes later she returns looking completely composed, though tellingly there’s no sign of any drink.
‘Are you free next Wednesday?’ she says as she sits back down.
‘Oh, er … yeah,’ I say, not wanting her to change the subject that still needs so much discussion as far as I’m concerned. ‘Wednesday’s my day off. Why?’
‘I’ve got my scan and Gary has to work so I need someone to come with me.’
There was never going to be any ‘I would like you to come with me’ or ‘please would you’ but the fact that Hayley is even asking me to go with her is amazing. I feel unbelievably chuffed, and excited actually, about seeing the baby. I also feel disconcerted by her attempt to ignore the fact that our dad has reappeared in our lives, but with Hayley you have to take the nice moments when you can.
‘Oh my god. That would be amazing. I’d love to come. Thanks Hayley.’
For three whole seconds Hayley indulges herself and allows her face to express a bit of excitement.
‘Have you thought of any names?’
‘Well, if it’s a girl, I like Sarah,’ she offers, immediately looking at me anxiously as if worried what I might think of that.
I nod encouragingly. ‘Lovely name.’
‘Gary likes Daisy or Lola, but I want something traditional.’
‘And if it’s a boy?’
‘Gary likes Gary Junior,’ she says, frowning at this prospect. I’m amazed. Usually she’s scarily loyal and won’t allow even a gentle piss-take of her spouse. ‘But I like the name Billy.’
‘Gorgeous,’ I say. ‘Well, Billy or Sarah, hello in there,’ I add in the direction of her tummy.
Anyway, I suppose you’d better tell me what Ray said to you,’ she says, taking the conversation by the scruff of the neck and shoving it back in its original direction. This is how chats with Hayley tend to go. They can leave you feeling quite seasick.
‘It’s not good Hayley. He went to prison for manslaughter. He killed someone by mistake when he committed arson.’
Hayley’s scornful face says it all.
‘I know. It is unreal. Awful. I was so freaked out when I found out. But I’m afraid it gets even more complicated. You see, he’s come back to find us now because, actually I really don’t know how to tell you this, but he’s not well.’
‘And?’
‘No seriously, he’s really not well. He’s got cancer.’
‘Good.’
I’m shocked to hear Mum’s harsh sentiments echoed. It upsets me. ‘Don’t be like that. He’s got it really bad. In fact, he’s been told he’s only got six months.’ I pause in order to let her digest this, but although her eyes are glistening slightly, her expression doesn’t really change.
‘He wants to know when he can see you,’ I continue. ‘I said I would sort it out. I know what he’s done in the past is horrendous and I’m angry too but he doesn’t want to die without getting to know his daughters first,’ I add, rubbing in the urgency of his plight, in case it hasn’t registered already.
‘Well he should have thought of that before,’ Hayley says and then I know I’m in for a fight.
‘How can you be so callous?’ I ask. It amazes me how the minute Hayley shows a bit of humanity she always has to ruin it the next by being so cold. ‘If you don’t see him, you’ll regret it one day and then how will you live with yourself?’
‘How will I live with myself?’ rages Hayley, and her pupils dilate into tiny specks in her blue eyes. ‘How can he live with himself is more like it? Look Marianne, if you want to be a fucking mug your whole life, that’s fine, go ahead, but I am not going to waste my time seeing a low-life scumbag just because science says he’s my dad. I don’t have a dad,’ she says, and I feel a chill run up my spine. I’m unnerved by her words. Maybe I am a mug? I don’t know, I’m just going on my instincts at the moment.
‘Fine,’ I say in a low voice. I don’t want to antagonise her any more than is necessary given her state.
I get up and go to see myself out.
‘I’ll see you next Wednesday,’ she says, an instruction not a request.
‘Fine,’ I repeat. ‘What time?’
‘Scan’s at ten-thirty so we need to leave at nine-forty-five. I want to get there early.’
I nod, slip my shoes on and leave.
CHAPTER TEN
The next few days settle down into a version of normal. I go to work and, when I’m not at work, I practise the violin as much as is possible. Normally, when I’m not travelling, I try to have weekly lessons, but my teacher’s on holiday at the moment. She’s given me plenty of homework though, which mainly consists of studying Bach’s solo Sonata and a couple of other pieces. Practising is the one thing always guaranteed to level me out and calm me down, or at least it is when Mum’s not yelling at me to ‘Put a bloody sock in it’. Meanwhile, Mum tries to make things up with Hayley by going round to her place with the Next directory, so they can look at baby clothes together and investigate cots and prams and so on. By managing not to mention Sing for Britain Hayley slowly starts to forgive her.
What isn’t normal by any means is the fact that if I want to speak to my dad, all I have to do is pick up the phone and dial a number. My feelings continue to oscillate between being livid with him one minute and desperate to see him the next. Strictly speaking I know I should be as furious with him as Hayley is but for many, many reasons, my anger is superseded by wanting to enjoy the fact that I actually have a father to get to know. Being totally honest with myself, I don’t care what the wrongs or the rights of the situation are and so it is that slowly but surely I start making contact with him more and more frequently. He understands the situation and lets me take things at my own pace. He also knows how to handle it when the anger takes over once again and I start being horrible to him. When this happens he just backs off until I’ve got it out of my system and am prepared to be civil again.
I feel quite reckless and still haven’t got round to telling Mum anything about my secret rendezvous or my conversations with him. I know what her reaction will be when I do though, which I do appreciate. I still think she should have been honest with us but at the end of the day she’s the one who bothered sticking around in order to raise us. But for now I’m taking a leaf out of her book and taking the easy option because I don’t want anyone shattering the bubble I’m in.
The only thing I’m not relishing is what to say every time Ray enquires about Hayley. He keeps asking when she’ll be ready to see him, though I think without me having to say too much he appreciates what the situation really is.
Then, on the Wednesday morning I’m due to pick Hayley up for her scan, I get yet another bolt out of the blue. Since Ray’s reappeared in my life I’ve forgotten about Andy, so typically, now I’m not thinking about him constantly, he phones.
‘Hello stranger,’ I say, once I realise it’s him. This is such a corny thing to say I immediately want to rewind time and say something less ridiculous but thankfully he doesn’t pick me up on it.
‘Hey,’ he says, his familiar laid-back drawl instantly reminding me of happy times and incredible nights. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘Oh you know, this and that,’ I reply, not wanting to elaborate on the phone. Catching up with my long-lost father who I thought was in Australia but has actually been in prison for manslaughter, but is now dying of cancer, just doesn’t seem like telephone conversation material somehow. ‘It’s so nice to hear your voice. Where are you? What have you been up to?’
‘I’m in Rome, having a blast,’ he says. ‘But listen, I’m nearly done here so I reckon next on my list of places to see has to be London. I guess I’ve been saving the best till last because I want to see you Marianne, I’ve missed you.’
‘Oh, me too,’ I s
ay, my voice catching. I’m so excited.
‘So I’m going to book my flight for Friday.’
Friday? Jesus, talk about short notice, though thinking about it, compared to how spontaneous we were when travelling round the islands, this is major forward planning. However there’s so much going on at the moment, I worry that I might not be quite ready to see him in a mere couple of days’ time.
‘Oh fantastic,’ I rally; not wanting to pour cold water on the news I’ve been waiting for for ages. I can hardly believe he’s finally coming. ‘That’s great, though just to warn you, we’re having the crappest April ever. It’s rained nearly every day this month.’
‘Bit of rain doesn’t bother me. It’s not been much better here to tell you the truth.’
‘So where are you going to stay?’
‘Well, that’s the bit I was getting to. I was wondering if I might be able to crash at yours for a bit? You know, just till I get myself sorted.’
‘Oh.’ I hadn’t expected that. ‘Well I’ll have to check with my mum. You remember that I live with her, right?’
‘Yeah, but hey, that’s all right, I’m good at charming mothers.’
I grin, thinking of his brown, strong body. I bet he is, but I still have my reservations. Somehow it’s hard to picture him sitting in Mum’s house on the royal blue sofa watching TV, a plate of one of Mum’s dinners on his lap. It’ll change the dynamic of our relationship completely.
‘But you know we live in Chigwell, which is outside the centre of London? So you wouldn’t be anywhere near all the tourist spots or sights, so I wouldn’t be insulted at all if you wanted to stay somewhere a bit more interesting.’
‘The only sight I want to see is you,’ he says.
My heart melts. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah, I’ve missed you heaps Marianne, and I think about you all the time.’
‘You do?’
‘Course.’
I grin daftly down the phone.