Idiot! He cursed himself silently. How middle-aged was that? Trying to flirt with a girl young enough to be his daughter. Even worse, behaving like a prat while his elder daughter was sitting at the table trying to talk to him about their abysmal relationship. He was a sad git for sure. A sad git having a mid-life crisis. Suddenly Barry felt very sorry for himself. He didn’t want to hear what Debbie had to say. He knew it was going to be far from complimentary.
‘Dad, I’ve been dreading my wedding and it’s all your fault,’ Debbie exclaimed heatedly when the waitress was gone. She was sitting rigid, twisting her engagement ring around her finger.
‘Oh! How so?’ He was completely taken aback at this full-on assault.
‘I haven’t really wanted you there from the beginning. I’ve felt you’ve no business being there. It’s only because you’re paying something towards it, and because of Mum, that you’re involved,’ she said bluntly, and he could see the anger sparking in her eyes.
‘I guess I’m not completely surprised by that. Your behaviour has been anything but appreciative, and less than civil,’ he said, his own anger beginning to rise.
‘And why do you think that is?’ she demanded.
‘Look, Debbie, I know we don’t get on. I know you’ve never forgiven me for breaking up—’
‘Walking out,’ she hissed. ‘You walked out on Mum and me and left us to our own devices. You went to America and didn’t give a toss how we managed. And that’s why I hate you, Dad. You abandoned us.’ Her face was bloodless, waxy and he could see how her hands shook as she raised her mug to her lips.
He felt his mouth turn dry. This moment of reckoning had been a long time coming. Barry took a deep breath. ‘Debbie, in fairness, I never stinted on paying for your upkeep and, if your mother needed anything, she only had to phone me,’ he protested, unnerved by the raw blast of anger she’d unleashed on him.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Dad, anyone can write a cheque, how easy is that?’ Her lip curled and he saw the contempt in her eyes. He felt himself shrivel inside. No one had ever looked at him with such disdain and that it should be his own daughter was crucifying.
‘Where were you when Mum was crying herself to sleep and I had to listen and feel helpless because I could do nothing to make her stop? Where were you when I couldn’t do my maths and needed help? Where were you when the car broke down? Or when there were mice in the attic and Mum had to climb up and set traps? Where were you when she got mugged in town and her bag was snatched and she got a black eye because she fought with the druggie that attacked her? Where were you on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day? Where were you on my birthdays? All my friends had their fathers to help them blow out their candles. I just had Mum. A cheque doesn’t cover all that, Dad. What were you going to do? Fly over from America every time we were stuck?’ Bitterness laced her tone, and her eyes were bright with hostility.
‘I was only gone for a couple of years,’ he countered, shocked by her vehemence.
‘Yeah, and then you came home and moved in with Aimee and we were pushed aside.’
‘Ach, Debbie, don’t be so dramatic. You weren’t pushed aside,’ he argued heatedly, feeling she was being extremely unfair. ‘I did my best to try and build up a relationship with you when I came back to Ireland but you just wouldn’t let me. You were determined to keep me at arm’s length; no matter what I did it was never right. You have to accept responsibility for your part in it. It wasn’t all one-sided.’
‘For God’s sake, I was a child. You left me when I was very young . . . walked out of my life. One day you were my daddy living with us, the next you were gone and I only saw you a couple of times a week, and then you were completely gone. How do you think that made me feel? Then you came back and expected everything to be OK again. I was twelve when you had Melissa. How do you think that made me feel? How do you think I felt, watching how close the two of you were? How loving you were with her when you’d turned your back on me?’
‘But I would have been like that with you if you’d let me,’ he said earnestly, leaning across the table to take her hand. For one awful moment he felt she was going to snatch it back but, after a moment’s hesitation, she left it in his clasp.
‘Debbie, I’m sorry that you felt betrayed and abandoned. In a marriage break-up everyone gets hurt, that’s the way of it.’
‘But some more than others,’ she murmured, tears welling in her eyes.
‘Oh, Debbie, Debbie, please don’t cry, I’m truly sorry for the hurt I’ve caused you and your mother. Connie’s forgiven me long ago – can’t you try?’ he pleaded.
‘I want to. I just can’t help the bitterness that’s in me. I feel overwhelmed by it.’ She was crying now, trying to avert her face. ‘It ruined my childhood. I was in turmoil all the time. I felt it was all my fault. I felt there was something wrong with me, that I must be horrible and you couldn’t love me and that’s why you had to leave. I’d torment myself over and over in bed at night, listening to Mum crying and feeling it was because of something I’d done.’ Other people were looking at them now.
‘Please stop, Debbie.’ He squeezed her hand, trying to swallow the lump in his throat that was causing him grave discomfort. Her words were like the cut of a thousand knives to his heart. He was horrified.
‘Was it because you had me, was that what made you leave?’ Her eyes were pools of pain, and he almost flinched as she focused on him.
‘No, Debbie, no, no, no. It was me, it had nothing to do with you.’ He shook his head vehemently. ‘I did love you. I do love you. And I do regret splitting us up. I was young, immature, I—’
‘Would you have married Mum if she hadn’t been pregnant with me?’ Debbie brushed her tears away with the back of her hand in a gesture that made him think of Melissa. ‘Please tell me the truth, Dad.’
‘Aw, Debbie! It was a long time ago. What’s the point in revisiting it?’
‘Because I think, if she hadn’t been pregnant with me, you wouldn’t have got married.’
‘So what you’re still saying is everything is your fault?’ he said brusquely.
‘I suppose so,’ she agreed.
‘Why would you want to lay all that on your shoulders, for God’s sake?’ He couldn’t hide his frustration.
‘Children do that. No one asked me about how I felt. I had no say in anything. I had no control over anything.’
‘And you’ve felt this all along?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed miserably.
‘Debbie, people make mistakes. That’s what living is all about. Making mistakes and growing from them. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t your mother’s fault, and it wasn’t my fault. There’s no point in trying to apportion blame and indulging in “if only”s. We’ve got to work from where we are now. And it didn’t turn out so bad. We’re all reasonably happy. You’re getting married. Your mum has a lovely home and—’
‘Mum’s lonely, especially since I’ve left home,’ she interrupted, ‘and she’s not as young as she used to be. She should have a lot more than what she has. She sacrificed having relationships because of me, so don’t say we’re all happy, Dad,’ Debbie snapped angrily.
‘Debbie, you know, you really should get off the cross. If your mum had met someone who was right for her not even you would have prevented her from being with him, much as you might like to think otherwise,’ Barry said crisply, deciding he wasn’t going to be the fall guy for everything.
‘Just like you met Aimee.’ Debbie pulled her hand away.
‘Yes, just like I met Aimee,’ he said evenly.
‘She’s so different from Mum. What was wrong with Mum that you had to leave?’ Her tone was sulky and surly, and again he was reminded of his younger daughter.
‘There was nothing wrong with your mother, Debbie. Look, if you want to apportion blame, fine, I’m happy to take responsibility. I wasn’t ready to get married when we did. If it was today, I guess we wouldn’t have got married for a while, we could have lived toget
her before making any decisions. Connie is a wonderful woman, I wasn’t half good enough for her, but we’ve made our peace with each other, Debbie. You’re the only one unwilling to move on and there’s nothing else I can do,’ he said wearily. ‘If you don’t want me at your wedding, I won’t come. I don’t want to ruin your day.’
‘Oh!’ Debbie hadn’t been expecting that and it threw her. Her father was giving her what she’d wanted all along. Why did she suddenly feel empty and hollow? She had an opportunity now to evict him from her life for good. He was on the ropes. She’d won. She looked at him and saw how tired he looked, how dispirited. Grey streaked his black hair and he had bags under his eyes, which were dull and red-rimmed, as if he hadn’t slept too well the previous night.
She remembered the book her mother had given her, Applications for Living from Conversations with God. Did she want to hang on to all her dramas with her father? Did she want to hang on to her fury and resentments? They had nourished her since childhood. A phrase she’d read came to mind: ‘That was then and this is now.’ Now could be her fresh start. All that negativity wasn’t good for her physically, emotionally or spiritually. All that horrible anger that twined around her insides like ivy poisoning her. She could carry it on and punish herself as well as her father or she could get off that particular roundabout and channel all that energy into something positive and enriching in her married life.
Debbie took a deep breath. It was time to make a decision. Did she want Barry in her life or out of it?
‘Well, um, that wasn’t really why I came, you know . . . to ask you not to come . . . that wasn’t the reason . . .’ she stuttered, half amazed at herself.
‘Well, what was the reason?’ he asked, perplexed.
‘I just wanted to tell you how I felt. I wanted you to know why I’ve been . . . well, not very friendly, I suppose. I wanted you to know how deeply it affected me. You never seemed to acknowledge that . . .’ She trailed off.
‘So what are you saying then?’ He eyed her warily.
‘Mum thinks I should let go of the past, put it behind me and make a fresh start for my wedding.’
‘Mum talks a lot of sense, but it’s not Mum we’re talking about here, it’s you. What do you want, Debbie? Let’s put our cards on the table now that we’re getting down to the nitty-gritties of our relationship – or non-relationship, as the case may be.’
‘I suppose the grown-up thing would be to let bygones be bygones and start afresh.’ She shrugged and gave a little smile.
‘Aw, forget the grown-up thing. What do you want to do? What’s your gut telling you? Is it to tell me to get lost and that you don’t want to have anything to do with me? If that’s what you want – and I hope it isn’t – I’ll respect your wishes. And after what you’ve said to me I’ll understand why. And I certainly won’t blame you. I never realized how awful it was for you, and I’m sorry, desperately sorry. I wish I could go back in time and try and change how you felt but I can’t. So it’s up to you . . . You’re the boss.’ He smiled wryly at her, relieved at last that it was all out in the open. If she told him to get out of her life, he wouldn’t blame her at all, and at least he was finally giving her a chance to be in control of some decision concerning their relationship.
‘Well, I brought you a present, actually.’ Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he felt an even worse heel, that his own daughter would be embarrassed because she had brought him a present. ‘Bryan and I were away for the weekend. I thought it might be a peace offering.’ She leaned down and picked up the bag with the box of cheeses in it and handed it to him.
‘Oh! This is unexpected.’ His face creased in a smile in spite of himself as he pulled out the straw-filled presentation box. ‘I love cheese, it’s a real weakness of mine,’ he exclaimed, sniffing the pungent Gorgonzola. ‘That was very kind, Debbie. Very kind. Thanks.’ He was genuinely delighted and, surprisingly, she was pleased at his reaction.
‘Bryan suggested the cheeses,’ she explained, wanting to give her fiancé his due. ‘He loves cheese and crackers himself.’
‘A man of good taste then. Tell him thanks – he chose well.’
‘I will.’ She gave a real smile this time, and for an instant her face looked unguarded and carefree and she looked so like Connie when he’d married her.
‘So could we make a fresh start, do you think? Is this a true olive branch?’ he asked hesitantly, still not too sure what her response might be.
‘We could give it a try, I suppose,’ she agreed. ‘But I still want Mum to give me away,’ she said hastily, afraid he might take advantage.
‘I understand. It’s certainly her right, she reared you. One thing I would like to say – seeing as we’re being very frank with each other.’ He arched an eyebrow at her.
‘OK,’ she said cautiously.
‘It’s about Melissa. You know our circumstances are not of her making and she is your half-sister. Could you manage to be a little kinder to her when we’re together? She’s a good kid; she just seems surly because she feels awkward. She probably has her own insecurities about our situation,’ he said delicately. Having heard what Debbie had to say, he felt he should make it his business to see if his younger daughter had any issues that she might be keeping to herself. He didn’t ever want to go through an experience like this again.
Debbie swallowed hard. ‘I realize that, and I suppose it wasn’t fair to take it out on her. It won’t happen again,’ she said, suddenly feeling very ashamed of herself.
‘Good stuff. I really appreciate that, Debbie.’ He reached out and squeezed her hand again, and this time she gave a little squeeze back.
‘I suppose you wouldn’t like to pop in and say hello. Aimee’s travelling and Melissa’s over in the penthouse with her friend Sarah, who’s coming to the wedding. You’ve never been to visit. Do you want to come up for a couple of minutes, or are you tied up?’ he asked on impulse.
Debbie looked a little startled at his invitation, but to his surprise she agreed and stood up to follow him downstairs.
It was a windy evening and tendrils of her hair blew around her face as an easterly breeze gusted up from the seafront. ‘Hope the weather’s a bit better than this for the barbecue,’ Barry remarked as they walked briskly towards his apartment block.
‘It just means we’ll have to eat in the hotel rather than the courtyard, but I’d much prefer to eat in the open; it’s more laid-back and that’s what we want,’ she said.
‘It’s in the hands of the gods, unfortunately,’ Barry replied as he walked towards the big glass-plated doors that led to the foyer of his building.
‘Should you have phoned Melissa to say we’re coming? I don’t want to land in on top of her.’ Debbie was beginning to feel uncomfortable as they stepped into the lift that carried them to the penthouse.
‘So she can get rid of the boys and hide the vodka bottle?’ Barry chuckled. ‘She knew I was only five minutes away. They won’t be getting up to much. I don’t believe she would go behind our backs anyway. As I said before, she’s a good kid.’ The lift glided silently upwards and moments later she was following him into a small entrance hall that led to a cream panelled door.
‘Welcome,’ he said as he opened it for her, and she walked into a tastefully decorated hall with various doors leading off it. He showed her into a large, airy sitting room that had floor-to-ceiling windows facing on to a large, wraparound balcony. The views of the bay were stunning and Debbie had to admit that Aimee had decorated with style and excellent taste. It was very minimalist, even a little sterile, she thought as she gazed around and studied the elegant pieces of furniture, which seemed to have been bought more for aesthetic impact than creature comfort.
‘Hey, Dad . . . oh! Oh hi, Debbie.’ Melissa looked flabbergasted when she walked into the room, followed by her friend, and saw Debbie standing with her father. Her face darkened into her usual scowl.
‘Hello, Melissa, um, Dad asked me up. I’ve just met him for a
coffee in Costa Coffee.’ She smiled uncertainly at her half-sister, ignoring the scowl.
‘Oh . . . right. Were you talking about the wedding?’ the younger girl said awkwardly, taken aback that Debbie had actually talked to her.
‘Yeah, that’s what we were talking about,’ Debbie agreed, smiling at the other teenager who was standing behind Melissa. ‘Hi, you must be Sarah; I believe you’re coming to the wedding.’
‘Yes, I am. Thanks for asking me.’ She smiled, showing a mouthful of braces and Debbie remembered her own teen years and all the anxieties and uncertainties associated with them.
‘You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy it. Dad and I were just saying we hope it won’t be this windy – you know we’re having a barbecue?’ She turned to Melissa.
‘Cool. I didn’t know that. I love barbecues. It should be fun.’ The scowl was gone and her eyes lit up at this news.
‘Well, that’s why we decided to have one. We didn’t really want everyone sitting around designated tables – well, except the family,’ she amended. ‘Mum and I just felt the grandparents and family might be happier sitting at tables with people they knew. Sometimes older people prefer that.’
‘But can we sit where we like?’ Melissa looked at Debbie. ‘Or have we to sit at family tables?’
With the parents was the underlying question. Debbie grinned, understanding perfectly where her half-sister was coming from.
‘You can sit wherever you want,’ she said.
‘Hey, thanks, that’s cool.’ Melissa grinned back, their eyes met and for the first time in their lives a connection sparked between them. Barry, watching the interaction, gave a little prayer of thanks. Maybe at last after all these years his daughters might be at the beginning of the journey that would bring them close to true sisterhood.
‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked impulsively. ‘A glass of champers to toast the wedding . . . and em . . . fresh starts?’ He stood smiling at her, and she could feel him silently urging her to say yes.
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