‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, love,’ Sylvia said, taking Mum’s hand in hers. ‘Are you coping?’
‘Yes … I’ll be fine, honestly.’
‘Well, you know that Larry and I are here for you. Whatever you need.’
‘Thanks, Sylvia.’
At that point Mum insisted on making a brew; when she returned with two mugs and a plate of chocolate digestives, she looked far more composed.
‘I wanted to tell you something,’ Sylvia said, holding a hand in front of her mouth as she finished chewing on a piece of biscuit.
‘Oh,’ Mum replied, taking a tiny sip from her mug before returning it to the coffee table. ‘What’s that?’
‘Probably nothing, but I thought I’d better mention it, just in case.’
‘Go on.’
‘There was a man parked outside your house this morning in a black car. Usually I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but he was there for ages and kept the engine running.’
I’d only been half listening to their conversation by that stage, but Sylvia’s words caught my attention.
‘A black car? Who was it?’ Mum asked.
Sylvia shrugged. ‘I thought you might have some idea.’
‘What type of car was it?’
‘Um, I’m not great with cars, Ann. I did make a point of looking, though. It was one of those smart ones with the four circles badge.’
‘Audi?’
‘That sounds right. It was blocking your drive and the man behind the wheel was staring at the house, like he was scoping it out.’
‘Like a burglar, you mean?’
‘The thought crossed my mind. That’s why I went out to speak to him.’
Now my ears really pricked up. ‘And?’ I said, as if she could hear me.
‘What did he say?’ Mum asked.
Sylvia shook her head. ‘Nothing useful. I tapped on the window; he wound it down and I asked if I could help him with anything. He smiled and politely declined. Then he said what a nice dress I was wearing. That rather threw me.’
‘What did you say?’
Sylvia’s cheeks reddened. ‘I, er, thanked him for the compliment and made my excuses. I couldn’t think what else to say.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘Rather handsome, actually: early fifties, slim, well groomed. From the car and the suit he was wearing, I’d say he was wealthy. Does that ring any bells?’
‘No,’ Mum replied. ‘But he doesn’t sound like your typical burglar.’
‘I suppose not. He drove off a few minutes later.’ She rummaged through her pockets before pulling out and handing over a scrap of paper. ‘Here, I made a note of his number plate for you, just in case.’
Written in black ink on the crumpled sheet was the same personalized registration I’d recently noted, D3 VLN.
‘Do you recognize it?’ Sylvia asked Mum.
‘No. I’ll keep hold of it, though. You never know. There haven’t been any break-ins nearby, have there?’
‘Not that I’ve heard.’
‘Oh, well. It’s a mystery. Probably nothing to get our knickers in a twist about, but thanks for telling me.’
‘You’re welcome. Any time.’
I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss it, Mum, I thought. That bloke’s up to something. I don’t know who or what he is, but I intend to find out.
Not long after Sylvia left, a beaming Ella returned full of envious stories of Jada’s amazing house and huge toy collection. It had always wound me up when she’d acted like that in the past. It still smarted now, although it hardly seemed to register with Mum. ‘That’s nice, darling,’ she said. ‘I bet you’re tired now. Let’s get you in the bath and then bed.’
‘Can I have a book?’
‘Of course.’
‘Can Auntie Lauren read it?’
‘Um, she’s had to pop out. I’m not sure if she’ll be back in time.’
In fact when Lauren eventually returned, Ella had been in bed for an hour – and asleep almost as long. Having noticed how tired she was, I’d decided to delay our serious chat. I knew it couldn’t wait much longer, but I was glad to have more time to decide what to say. I wasn’t looking forward to it at all.
‘Where have you been?’ Mum asked Lauren.
‘How about an apology for hitting me first?’
‘Hitting you? It was a little slap – and you deserved it.’
‘What, because I spoke the truth? You’d rather I was more British about it, would you? Sorry, Mum. That’s not me. Sweeping things under the carpet isn’t my style.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘None of your business.’
‘Well you missed your niece going to bed. She wanted you to read to her.’
‘You shouldn’t have driven me out of the house, then. I’ll go and give her a kiss in a minute.’
‘Don’t you wake her up. That’s the last thing she needs.’
‘And I suppose you’ll hit me again if I do. Come on, Mum. Credit me with some intelligence.’
‘Stop saying that,’ Mum replied, bursting into tears. ‘You know I didn’t hit you.’
Lauren’s face softened. ‘Don’t cry, Mum. I didn’t mean it. I know it was only a slap.’
She pulled Mum into a hug and started crying too. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Why are we fighting? We should be supporting each other.’
‘You’re right. I’m sorry too. I never should have slapped you. You know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. I just got so frustrated.’
Once they’d both calmed down, Mum cautiously broached the subject that had sparked their row in the first place. ‘Please drop this affair business for now, love. I’d really appreciate it if you could stick to what we agreed and wait until your father’s better.’
Lauren looked down at the floor and offered no reply.
‘You’re not exactly filling me with confidence here. Come on, Lauren. I really need you on my side. I can’t do this without you.’
My sister stayed silent and a look of dawning horror spread across Mum’s face. ‘Oh no. You’ve done something, haven’t you? Oh, Lauren, what is it? Have you been back to see your dad again? You have to tell me.’
Lauren shook her head and wearily raised her eyes to meet Mum’s. ‘Relax. I haven’t been back to the hospital.’
‘So where have you been all this time?’
‘I popped in on a couple of old school friends: Sophie and Helena. That’s all.’
‘What about that phone? What did you do with it?’
Lauren looked sheepish. ‘Um …’
‘I knew it. What did you do? Just tell me. It can’t be any worse than I’m imagining.’
‘Promise you won’t get mad?’
‘Tell me, Lauren.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Well, I was so angry when I left the house that I dialled that number again.’
‘And?’
‘The call was answered, but there was no one there. I could hear muffled noises in the background: music playing and an engine sound. It was like the phone was in a pocket or something. This woman must have answered it without realizing. She was probably driving.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I shouted “hello” a few times and then hung up.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Not exactly. I mean, yes, I hung up. But … I tried again later.’
Mum glared at Lauren, arms folded across her chest, until she continued. ‘It went straight to voicemail. Still no personal greeting or anything, but I, er, left a—’
‘What did you say?’
‘That I had an urgent message from Dad. That she should call me straight away or come round to the house.’
Mum froze. She said nothing but blinked several times, her face haemorrhaging colour with each movement of her eyelids.
‘Mum?’ Lauren asked eventually. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’
‘Why … on earth … did you do that?’
‘What if I don’t want to know?’
‘You have to, Mum. It’s your right. There’s no point burying your head in the sand.’
Mum stood up. ‘Don’t pretend you did this for me, Lauren. You’ve done nothing but ignore what I want. I’m going to bed.’
‘Bed? It’s not even nine thirty.’
Mum ignored her, banging the door shut on her way out.
So how do I put it? I asked myself for the umpteenth time. How do I tell my daughter that I’m entertaining the idea of leaving her for good? As much as I thought about it, sitting alone in the dark while everyone else slept, the right words wouldn’t come to mind. Were there any right words? At one point I decided the best solution was to tell Ella everything – even detailing my own uncertainty. But then I came back to the fact that she was only six. How could I expect her to take all that on board? She needed certainty from her father, not indecision. Oh God, this was hard.
‘Anything I can help with?’ a familiar voice enquired from across the shadowy lounge.
‘Jesus, Lizzie!’ I said, holding my hand over my mouth as I acknowledged the poor word choice. ‘Sorry. You shocked me. I didn’t mean to, you know … I mean, I guess—’
‘Relax,’ she replied as all the lights switched on.
I winced at the sudden brightness.
‘Sorry. Too much?’ she added, dimming them with a flick of a finger.
‘That’s better. Thanks. Not a fan of calling ahead, are you?’
‘I had a feeling you might need some advice.’
‘How—’
‘I’m a guide. A certain level of knowledge comes with the job. Now what are you struggling with? I’d love to help.’
‘Yes, but it’s not exactly independent advice you’re offering, is it? We both know that you have a vested interest.’
‘You’re crotchety today.’
I argued with her for a little longer but soon gave in. What did I have to lose? It wasn’t like I had to take her advice.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘My gut feeling is, as always, to stay here with my daughter, but I haven’t completely ignored the advice you’ve been giving me. Obviously my priority is what’s best for her. What I saw – in the future. Will that definitely happen?’
‘It could do. It’s one possible future, but it’s not set in stone. You have the power to change it.’
‘But do I really have to pass over and leave Ella behind in order to do that? Can’t I stay and do things differently?’
‘I don’t think growing up in their dead father’s shadow would be good for anyone. There’s a natural order to things and diverting from that path rarely works out well. You also need to remember the paradise you’ll be passing up if you remain here.’
‘This is about my daughter, not me. My decision has to be based on what’s right for her.’
‘But the two things are intertwined, William. Don’t forget that in the version of the future you saw, your unhappiness was one of the main problems between you and Ella.’
‘I know, but that’s what I meant before when I talked about doing things differently.’
Her nose twitched. ‘I’ve given you my answer.’
I paused to think and a heavy silence fell on the room. I could feel Lizzie’s eyes scanning me, calculating my next move. ‘So what the hell do I tell Ella?’ I blurted out.
‘I can understand how that would be difficult. It’s one reason why people can’t usually see the spirits of their loved ones.’
‘She thinks I’m back for good. Even if I decided that passing over was the right move, I’d need her blessing first. But I haven’t got a clue what to say to her.’
‘Asking Ella for her blessing would be like putting the decision in her hands. Do you find that fair? Imagine if she said she wanted you to stay. How would she feel about that when she was older: when she understood what she’d made you give up? How would that help her? You’re the parent here. It’s your choice and yours alone.’
‘I’d not thought of it that way, but … I guess you’re right. It’s an impossible decision, though. How do I make the right choice?’
‘You will.’
‘I wish I shared your confidence. I can’t believe the deadline’s so close now. It’s December the twelfth, right?’
Lizzie nodded. ‘Two weeks on Monday.’
‘Just before Christmas.’
‘You’ve already had longer than most people, William.’
I tried to ignore the anxiety that washed over me at the mere mention of it. ‘I know. Any particular time?’
‘Noon.’
‘Really? Oh. I’d actually assumed I’d have the full day – until midnight.’
‘Sorry, no.’
CHAPTER 22
FIFTEEN DAYS LEFT
Dad gave Ella a crooked smile and reached over his vast stomach with his left arm – the good one – to take her hand.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked him.
He made a so-so gesture with his left hand. A few minutes earlier we’d witnessed him walk awkwardly across the hospital ward with a nurse. Now he was resting.
‘Can’t you talk any more, Grandad?’
‘I told you, love,’ Mum said. ‘He’s having a few problems with his speech because of the stroke. But look how well he was walking just now. He’ll be back to normal in no time, won’t you, Tom?’
Dad’s face had become so gaunt that it looked out of place on top of his huge body. It was the first time Ella had seen her grandfather for a few days and it wasn’t easy for her. Her eyes searched out mine, looking for support.
‘You’re doing great,’ I whispered. ‘Just keep talking to him like you normally would.’
He had a sudden coughing fit. Mum rushed to his aid, pouring him some water from a jug at his bedside. As she fussed around him, I reassured Ella it was nothing to worry about.
‘You will get better soon, won’t you?’ Ella asked him once he was settled again. ‘I miss you. We all do – even Sam. He told me this morning in doggie language. Auntie Lauren would have come as well, but she had to do food shopping.’
I could see Dad’s eyes welling up, which in turn made me feel emotional. Although I’d visited him in hospital a few times now, I couldn’t get used to seeing him in this state. It was so … not Dad. He’d always been such a strong, powerful presence in my life. The only chink in his armour had been his fondness for drinking and smoking – his two big crutches – and food too, I suppose. But he’d always appeared to have those things under control. I couldn’t once remember him being drunk. And his size had never seemed to get in the way of him doing anything. He’d always been like an iceberg, slowly sliding through life, carrying along the people and things that mattered and pushing away those that didn’t.
Was Dad’s and my relationship a close one? Yes and no. He wasn’t someone I’d ever felt comfortable telling my deepest secrets or greatest fears. We’d never done man-hugs or talked about our feelings together. However, Dad had always been there for me when I needed him. After Alice died, Mum had been amazing at helping me to deal with my grief and to care for Ella. But it was Dad who’d got me through all the practical stuff, like organizing the funeral, handling the will and informing all the necessary people. I’d always been able to depend on him for these kinds of things.
Dad might never have specifically told me that he loved me – not since I was a child, at least – but the unwavering support he’d given me over the years said plenty. He’d done even more for Lauren, so I couldn’t understand why she was being so tough on him. Okay, this affair thing was shocking and painful, but it wasn’t a deal breaker. He was still our father. He’d stuck by us through thick and thin and deserved the same in return, especially in his current fragile state of health.
Besides, how could I blame Dad for what he’d done? I was no better. I knew how easy it was to get sucked in. I a
lso knew that Dad’s actions, whatever they were, didn’t necessarily mean that he no longer loved Mum.
The seed of that thought threw me into the past. It was a full-blown flashback: the vivid kind that appears of its own volition and takes you along for the ride, like it or not. I could smell the sweet allure of her perfume – a heady mix of vanilla and almonds. I could feel the excitement of her grinding against me with a promise of more.
Her.
The other woman.
My dirty little secret.
The guilt was just a seed back then: a fragment of what it would become, pushed into the background by booze and desire. If only I’d stopped myself. If only that was as far as it had gone. But I hadn’t. It wasn’t.
Like father, like son.
I snapped back to the present as Dad nodded and gave Ella’s hand a squeeze. He looked like he was about to try to speak but then thought better of it. Instead, he twisted himself awkwardly towards the bedside cabinet and reached over to pick up a notepad and pen. Unfortunately, he knocked over the water jug in the process, sending Mum into a flap. She raced off to find some tissues.
‘What a mess,’ Mum puffed as she knelt on the floor, frantically mopping up the water. ‘Why on earth did you try to reach over by yourself, Tom?’
‘Come on, Mum,’ I said. ‘It was an accident. Give the man a break. Ella, keep talking to him. Let him know that it’s all right. Nana doesn’t mean to snap like that. She’ll calm down again in a minute.’
Dad lay quietly on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his contorted face a mixture of frustration and embarrassment.
‘Don’t worry, Grandad,’ Ella whispered into his ear after shuffling over to the dry side of the bed. ‘At least it was only water.’
Dad turned and looked fondly at his granddaughter. He slowly raised his good hand and traced one finger down the side of her face.
‘I love you, Grandad,’ she whispered. ‘I really hope you get better soon.’
He ruffled her hair and gave her a little wink.
Meanwhile, Mum stood up with a groan, rubbing her knees. ‘These hard floors are not meant for kneeling on. Not at my age.’ She lifted the sodden clump of wet tissue from the floor and dropped it into Dad’s now-empty jug. ‘I’m going to put this in the bin,’ she told him. ‘I’ll fill you up a fresh jug while I’m at it. No more knocking it over, please.’
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