‘Shh, Ella. Calm down, please.’
But it was already too late. I heard the sound of feet on the stairs. Lauren appeared at the bedroom door. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, racing over to her niece. I had to duck and roll out of the way to avoid her. She perched on the edge of the bed and Ella threw her arms around her, sobbing into her jumper.
‘What’s up, Ella? You were all smiles when I said goodnight. Did you have a nightmare?’
Ella shook her head and continued to bawl her eyes out. I felt awful. And I’d not even told her the worst part yet: that I could be gone by Monday lunchtime.
Then I looked at the way she was hugging her auntie, squeezing her with all her might and getting the same back. The sight reminded me of all the things I could no longer offer her and how important it was to have someone physically there for her. Someone who could give her hugs, who could tie her hair up in a ponytail, cook for her and protect her from harm. That wasn’t me – not now – and it never would be again.
But Lauren would be back in the Netherlands soon. Mum would do her best for her granddaughter, but would she be able to cope all alone while grieving for her husband and son? As well-behaved as Ella was now, what about when she became a teenager? She’d be a prime candidate to rebel after everything she’d been through. Would Mum be able to handle it alone?
Ella’s tears had abated, so Lauren asked again what was wrong.
‘It’s Daddy,’ she said, making me fear for a moment that she was going to tell Lauren the truth. ‘I miss him so much.’
‘Of course you do, my love. I know how much you and your daddy meant to each other. It’s not fair that he’s gone. None of what we’ve been through is fair, but we have to stick together and help each other through it. I miss my dad too. That’s what Grandad was to me.’
‘I know,’ Ella sniffed. ‘And my daddy’s your brother.’
‘That’s right. And I loved him very much. It’s only normal to miss people when they’re not around. I’ve missed Xander terribly over the last few days, even though I know I’m going to see him again when he flies in tomorrow night. And I always miss you, my favourite niece, when we’re not together.’
A tiny smile appeared on Ella’s face. ‘I’m your only niece.’
Lauren tickled her under the chin. ‘There’s no getting anything past you these days, is there? Well, guess what.’
‘What?’
She pulled her into another tight hug, whispering: ‘Even if I did have other nieces, you’d still be my favourite.’
‘Are you all right?’ I asked Ella once Lauren had gone and Mum had also popped in to give her a kiss. She was sucking her thumb and her eyes were heavy. She didn’t reply. Not even a nod or a shake of the head.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ I whispered. ‘That’s the last thing I want. You’re more important to me than anyone or anything else. You’re my everything.’
She turned her head away from me on the pillow, facing the wall.
‘Okay,’ I whispered. ‘I get the hint. You don’t want to talk to me now. I’ll let you sleep. Goodnight.’
Still no reply.
That went well, I thought, as I trudged down the stairs, wondering whether or not I’d done the right thing. Then I heard a familiar voice.
‘Lizzie,’ I said in surprise.
Early the next morning Ella ran up to me in the kitchen with her arms wide open, like she was going to hug me. I think it was only when I took a nervous step backwards that she remembered to stop. ‘Sorry. I forgot.’
‘Don’t be sorry, love. I wish we could hug. There’s nothing I’d like better.’
‘Me too.’
It was just after 5.30 a.m. I’d been standing there, staring out of the window, for ages. A light covering of snow had fallen during the night, which created a magical floodlight effect across the garden despite the fact it was still dark outside.
‘What is it, darling?’ I asked, noticing that Ella had been crying.
She looked away. I knew better than to push, but I guessed that she’d woken up and, not seeing me in her room, had panicked. Who could blame her for fearing that I’d gone after the conversation we’d had last night?
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ I explained, ‘so I decided to give Sam some company.’
I glanced over at the chestnut and white lump of fur sprawled before the radiator. He’d raised his head and opened one eye when Ella had entered but was zonked out again now.
‘Sorry for upsetting you last night, love. Are we friends again?’
She nodded, still not looking at me.
This wasn’t the moment for more serious discussions. Ella was too emotional and I was exhausted. All I wanted right now was to spend some quality time with my girl.
I’d been thinking non-stop for hours following Lizzie’s visit last night. Her plan to help with my decision had come to fruition. She’d confounded me with a new option – a third way forward. It was a possibility only offered in extraordinary circumstances, she’d explained, and it demanded to be considered. Little wonder I’d not been able to sleep.
‘Come on, darling,’ I said, leading Ella out of the kitchen, glad of a break. ‘Let’s go to the lounge so we don’t wake up the others. Shut the door behind us, there’s a good girl.’
I suggested playing a game, but Ella didn’t want to. ‘What would you like to do, love?’
‘Read story,’ she said in the baby voice she sometimes adopted when tired or wanting attention.
‘Sure. Would you like to read to me?’
She pulled a sad face and shook her head. ‘Daddy read to Ella.’
I’d usually have told her to speak properly and to say please, but in the circumstances I didn’t have the heart. ‘Very well then, but you’ll have to turn the pages for me.’
She ran upstairs to her bedroom, returning with an armful of colourful books about fairies, kittens, princesses and puppies. An hour later, just after 6.30 a.m., we’d got through the lot. I couldn’t remember ever reading quite so many books to Ella in one go before, although I was happy to do it. When it comes to escapism, there’s little better than a good children’s story and a wide-eyed youngster to enjoy it.
‘That’s the lot,’ I said. ‘We can read another one if you like, but you’ll have to run upstairs and get it.’
‘That’s okay,’ she said, removing her thumb from her mouth and twirling one of her longest curls into a corkscrew. ‘I’ve had enough now.’
She scrutinized me with those big green eyes of hers before adding: ‘I thought you’d gone when I woke up.’
I nodded. ‘I know you did, darling. I could tell when I saw how upset you were. Sorry I made you think that.’
‘Are you going to leave me?’
I fought to keep my voice steady. ‘I don’t want to.’
Her bottom lip quivered as tears began to flow. ‘You promised you’d stay.’
I looked at the heartbreak on my beautiful little girl’s face – a face I loved more than any other – and in that awful moment I made my final decision. I found a pinprick of light in the darkness and finally knew what I had to do in two days’ time.
CHAPTER 32
TEN HOURS LEFT
‘Wake up,’ a voice whispered in my ear.
‘What?’ I muttered, one foot still in the land of nod.
‘Wake up. I need to talk to you.’
I kept my eyes shut. ‘No. Not yet. It’s too early.’
‘Shh. Keep it down, son, or you’ll wake Ella.’
Then it clicked. ‘Dad?’ I said, jerking awake. And there was my father. His huge frame was draped in the same pyjamas and dressing gown he’d worn in hospital, but there was no sign of his fatal neck wound or the effects of his stroke. He placed a hand on my right shoulder and squeezed it, looking relieved when I didn’t pull away. Then he did something he’d not done since I was a lad and pulled me into a hug, adding a couple of slaps on the back to keep it manly.
‘It’s so good
to see you,’ I said. ‘Where on earth have you been?’ But before he had a chance to answer my question, the anger came rushing to the surface. ‘How could you?’ I snapped.
He turned towards the bedroom door. ‘Let’s not do this here.’
It was 2 a.m., according to Ella’s watch. That meant it was already here: Monday, the morning of the funeral. My deadline was just hours away. I followed Dad down the stairs and was surprised to find Hardy standing in the hallway. ‘You,’ I snarled. ‘You’ve got a nerve coming here.’
‘Have you two already met?’ Dad asked.
‘You could say that,’ I replied, eyeballing Hardy. He responded by grabbing hold of the two of us and transporting us to a familiar spot: the oak tree by the stream.
‘I’ll leave you to talk,’ he said, vanishing.
‘Where are we?’ Dad asked, looking around the snowy field, which glowed in the moonlight.
‘You must know where this is,’ I replied. ‘It’s only a short walk from the house. The primary school’s just up there. I used to come here all the time as a kid.’
‘Really? Oh, right. I didn’t recognize it. Never been much of a walker, have I?’
I pulled him towards me, so we were standing toe to toe, but he turned his head away. ‘Don’t give me that. Look at me. It’s time to face up to what you’ve done.’
‘I’m sorry, son. I’m so ashamed.’
I could feel the pent-up fury swelling inside me, clawing its way to freedom. And then I unleashed it. ‘You’re sorry? It’s a bit late for that, Dad. What the hell were you thinking? Why did you do it? How could you be such a selfish prick? I was dragged kicking and screaming away from my life. It was stolen from me; I’d give anything to have it back. You threw yours away, like it was nothing. You turned your back on your wife, your daughter, your granddaughter when they needed you most. What kind of a man does that?’
Dad stared at his slippers, which I couldn’t help think looked out of place in the snow. He kept shaking his head, over and over, moving his lips without any words coming out.
‘Dad!’ I shouted, trying to shock him back into the moment. ‘Get it together. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and talk to me. Why did you kill yourself?’
‘I was backed into a corner. I was desperate. The stroke, the secrets and lies: it felt like everything was going to shit, especially so soon after your death. I was terrified of never fully recovering; of the skeletons in my closet. Then I started seeing you, my dead son. And when you told me that Lauren and your mother knew about the affair, it was more than I could handle. I was facing being alone, losing my family, everything – my home, my friends. Suicide felt like the only way out.’
I had a flashback to the awful sight of his body being lifted out of the lavatory – and all that blood. ‘But … you must have been so resolute, so definite, to do it the way you did. I can’t even begin to imagine—’
‘I was. I wanted to die and was determined not to be stopped. But the minute I found myself like this – a spirit – staring at the sight of my own dead body swimming in my blood, the enormity of what I’d done hit me. I knew I’d made a terrible mistake. If I could go back and change it, I would. You have to believe me, son.’
‘Where have you been, if you’re so sorry? Why didn’t you come to me straight away?’
Dad shook his head. ‘I’m a coward. That’s why. It was only tonight that I finally got up the courage. I had to see you before the funeral. I’m so sorry, son. For everything. I won’t ask you to forgive me. How could I? But I need you to know how much I regret what I’ve done.’
I was too choked up to reply. We stared at each other in silence until Dad went on: ‘Hardy, um. He said that you already know about, er—’
‘About what?’
‘My secret.’
‘You mean that you’re gay?’
My directness threw him. ‘Well, I don’t know if I’d, er—’
‘Come on, Dad. It’s time we called a spade a spade. You’re gay. You must be. Okay, it feels weird to think of you like that, but it doesn’t seem very significant in the light of everything else that’s happened.’
‘Wow. I thought you’d be disgusted.’
‘You are who you are, Dad. Life’s too short to think otherwise. But you need to accept yourself. If you’d done that, things would never have got out of hand like they did. How long have you got?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘How long until you have to make up your mind?’
‘About what?’
It turned out that Hardy hadn’t given Dad the choice of staying or going. He’d simply told him he would pass over after his funeral. So much for free will. Apparently the option of remaining on earth wasn’t offered to you unless you specifically asked for it.
I raised an eyebrow. ‘You never questioned what he told you?’
‘Should I have? I mean, he originally wanted me to go straight away, but I refused. I said I needed time. I knew I had to speak to you first. That’s when he told me I could have until the funeral, like he was doing me a big favour; there was no mention of any other choice. To be honest, I was counting my blessings that I hadn’t been sent to Hell. I still am.’
I considered explaining to Dad about how he could choose to remain here forever. But I feared if I did, it would look as if I expected that of him, like some kind of penance for what he’d done, which was the last thing I wanted. Besides, if today went as planned, it wouldn’t matter anyway.
At that moment Hardy materialized next to Dad. ‘How are we doing?’
‘Interesting timing,’ I said. ‘Almost like you were listening in on our conversation. And how do you know about this place? I bet you’ve followed me here before, haven’t you?’
Hardy scowled at me then turned to Dad. ‘We’d better get going.’
‘I need a bit longer,’ Dad replied.
‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘You go. We can talk more at the funeral.’
‘You’re coming?’
‘Of course. I’m your son.’
I turned to Hardy. ‘And don’t worry. I’m not planning to rock the boat. I just want to be there for my father.’
Fixing me with a cold stare, he placed a hand on Dad’s shoulder and they disappeared.
‘You look beautiful, darling,’ I told Ella as she stood in front of the mirror in her black dress.
She sighed. ‘I hate funerals.’
‘Me too. You still look beautiful, though.’
‘Don’t you think my hair looks a bit … weird?’
Lauren had styled it in a French plait for her before disappearing to get ready.
‘No, it looks really nice. You’re just not used to it.’
‘I might take it out and put a hairband in instead.’
‘Don’t do that, Ella. Not after Auntie Lauren spent so long on it. It’s lovely, honestly.’
‘Can you really see yourself in the mirror, Daddy?’
‘Yes,’ I said, waving my hands at my reflection behind hers. ‘Here I am.’
‘How come I can’t see you there?’
I stuck my tongue out. ‘Beats me, but at least it means I can pull faces at you without you noticing.’
‘Don’t be cheeky,’ she replied, turning and frowning at me with mock anger. ‘What face did you pull?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ I said, sticking my tongue out again.
She stuck hers out too before becoming serious all of a sudden. ‘Where did you go last night?’
It was Ella who had let me in earlier that morning, after a lengthy wait outside, but Xander had appeared in the kitchen to make coffee and we’d not been alone until now.
‘Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that,’ I said. ‘I was with Grandad.’
‘What? How? Where did you go?’
I recounted what had happened, emphasizing Dad’s profound regret and reminding Ella how much he loved and missed her.
She asked if he’d be at the funeral.
I nodded.
‘Will I be able to see him?’
I’d been wondering the same thing. ‘I honestly don’t know, Ella. I’m not sure how it works. We’ll soon find out. If you do see him, you’ll have to be careful, like with me. You can’t speak to him in front of other people and you mustn’t let on to anyone about it.’
‘I know, Daddy,’ she replied, her bottom lip quivering. ‘You don’t have to tell me that.’
I held up my hands. ‘Sorry, love. I was just saying. I wasn’t criticizing you.’
A single tear ran down her left cheek as she turned back to the mirror.
‘I love you so much and I’m so proud of you,’ I said, although as soon as the words had left my mouth, it occurred to me that they were only likely to make her more emotional. Sure enough, she turned and ran into her princess castle.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked, but the sound of her quiet sobbing was her only response.
A long shadow was cast across the bedroom carpet as Xander appeared at the door in his black suit and tie. His recent return had been good for everyone. Lauren had hardly left his side and regularly dragged him off for long conversations; Mum and Ella brightened up in his presence. The only shame was that it couldn’t last. We all knew that he’d be heading back to his home country soon, with Lauren not far behind.
‘Where’s my favourite niece?’ he said in his Dutch-accented but perfect English.
Ella didn’t reply, so he peered through the door of the tent. Then, to my surprise, he squeezed inside too. I could see the shape of his crouching head stretching the fabric roof.
‘What’s up, kleintje?’ he said. ‘You look like you need a dikke knuffel.’
‘What’s that?’ Ella sniffed.
‘It’s what I always give Auntie Lauren when she’s sad. It means a big hug.’
I saw him lean over and take Ella in his huge arms through the tent window. I was glad that he was there for her, but I couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy.
‘What’s the other thing you said?’ Ella asked, sounding brighter.
‘What thing?’
‘You called me something in Dutch. It sounded like clean-shh.’
Xander gave a booming laugh. ‘Oh, you mean kleintje. It roughly translates as “little one”. Come on, you can say it too: kl-ein-tje.’
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