I cringe inwardly at the sight of him; Dad was always very particular about his appearance (borne of being a solicitor, no doubt) and had drilled the same ideals into me, regularly pointing out it never cost a lot to look half decent. You can imagine, what it did to him, then, when, at fourteen, I bought a pair of distressed, ripped, jeans; he was not impressed, I can tell you.
So, looking at him now, seeing him looking so… disheveled is a shock, to say the least. I was prepared for him being a recluse; I’d even imagined him being surrounded by newspapers and useless knick-knacks like those people on TV shows about hoarders but… I never prepared myself for my dad looking scruffy.
“You look…” I pause, searching for the right word (or more to the point, the right lie), “well,” I finish lamely.
Dad smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “As do you,” he replies formally.
I can’t believe we’ve been reduced to this: it’s like we’re talking to a stranger. I almost want to cry off, to turn around and walk away, but I stay put. Glancing behind him, into the hallway, I say, “Um, can I…?” With no hands free, I thrust my chin towards the house.
He seems to get the message and steps aside. “Oh, yes, of course.”
I offer him a brief, half-hearted, smile as I slip past him, into the living room and back to the past. It’s exactly as I remember: pictures of my childhood are dotted around the room, my official graduation photo still holding pride of place on the wall above the fireplace and Mum and Dad’s wedding picture on the nest of tables next to Dad’s armchair. I gaze around the room, realising that not one thing has changed; he hasn’t even decorated – the same faded, hideously flowery wallpaper that we both hated but, for some reason, Mum loved so much, is still hanging on the wall.
“Are you going to stay there all day?” Dad asks, pointedly, from behind me.
I turn, realising I’m blocking the doorway. “Sorry!” I mutter quickly. “I’ll just… put these in the kitchen, shall I?”
He nods. “That might be a good idea.”
“Yeah… then shall I make us a cup of tea?” I ask, bulldozing my way onto another subject.
He nods. “I could do with one,” he murmurs. “I assume you remember where everything is, don’t you?” he asks, sparing me a brief glance. “I mean: I know it’s been a while…”
I’m not sure if he’s trying to goad me but I let his comment go, refusing to rise to it. “Right, I’ll make the tea and get the chicken on and then we can catch up.” I don’t know whether I’m saying this for his benefit, or mine, at this point; maybe I’m just talking for the sake of it…
“Chicken, eh?” he asks. “Your mother’s favourite.”
“I know,” I say quietly. I stare at him for a moment, lost in his memories. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”
He looks over at me. “Of course; why wouldn’t it be?”
I shrug. “No reason. Okay, then, give me a second to sort things out and I’ll be right back.”
Escaping to the kitchen, I breathe a sigh of relief; at least I’m in and we’ve both survived the initial meeting. Now, all that’s left to do is survive the rest of the day.
“I saw Bob yesterday,” I begin, in the hope of getting him talking about his old friend.
Dad barely responds. “He’s well, I suppose.”
“You’d know the answer to that if you hadn’t given up bowls,” I point out; it had been the worst thing he could have done in the wake of Mum’s passing. At least, it would have got him out of the house, occasionally. “You obviously haven’t gone back.”
“Yes, well,” he mumbles, his attention fixed on the robin happily hopping on the garden table outside.
“He asked about whether I was going to the Christmas Light Switch-on.”
He pulls his gaze away, appraising me. “And are you?”
I nod. “Holly and Amy asked, I said I’d tag along,” I reply, recalling last night’s conversation with Glenn. He’ll be there, too. I can’t help but smile at the sudden feeling of anticipation I have at the thought but I ignore this for the moment. “You should come, too,” I suggest breezily.
He scoffs, as if it’s the worst thing in the world. “I don’t think so.” I can tell from the tone of his voice that he disapproves of the very idea. “All that noise, all those people… No,” he says, shaking his head decisively.
“It could be fun,” I suggest, although, to be honest, I’m not sure if I even believe that. He raises an eyebrow at me and I know there’s no point in arguing further – not if I want to avoid World War Three, anyway. I sigh, standing up to get a better look out the window. “The garden’s looking a little overgrown,” I point out.
“Is it?” Dad asks, his lack of interest evident.
I turn back to him. “Why don’t you get back out there and tidy it up a bit?”
He shrugs. “It’s fine as it is.”
I scoff. “Dad, it looks like a jungle out there,” I point out (okay; maybe that is a slight exaggeration). “And the gate needs oiling.”
He narrows his gaze at me. “If it offends you so much, why don’t you do something about it?” he retorts, an edge to his voice.
Instantly, we’re back to where we were before I left for London. “I didn’t say that.” I pause, unwilling to give up, just yet. “It’s just… I know how much you loved being out there,” I remind him.
He looks away from me. “Yeah, once upon a time, maybe.”
We fall into silence and I check my watch; the smell of chicken is permeating the air but time seems to be creeping along. I sigh again – this visit’s turning out to be more painful than a root canal. “Right, I guess I better get the veg on,” I announce. “Do you want to help, Dad?” I ask hopefully.
He just shakes his head, reaching for the TV remote. “I better check the racing results,” he mutters, switching the TV on and punching in the number for the channel.
I shake my head as I return to the kitchen; for a man who takes very little interest in life, he never seems to miss an opportunity to put a bet on. Leaning against the counter, I pinch the bridge of my nose, recalling some of my final words to my mum. “I’m so sorry, Mum,” I mutter, knowing I’ve let her down – I ran away when I should have stayed; I’ve let Dad fester when I should have been here, helping him move on.
I almost cry out as my phone rings; pulling it out, I smile as I see Jackie’s name on the screen. “Hey, Jacks,” I say, trying to sound as cheerful as I can, under the circumstances.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” she asks and I can hear the hope in her voice; she wanted this day to be a success, every bit, as much as I did. I know better now, though.
“No, you’re fine,” I mutter, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder, as I grab a bag of carrots, pulling the cellophane apart.
“Uh oh; I know that tone. What’s wrong?”
I take a moment, relishing the simple action of slicing through carrots; turns out, it’s quite good for anger management, too.
“Jess?” Jackie’s concerned voice fills my ear. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah, sorry,” I apologise quickly. “It’s not going great,” I admit, my voice cracking on the last couple of words.
“Oh, Jess; what’s happened?”
I shake my head, putting the knife to one side and wiping my tears with the back of my hand. “He’s so… different,” I say. “It’s like he’s just… given up.”
“I was hoping you coming back would have given him something to hold on to,” she admits.
“I suggested he come to the Switch-on on Saturday but he just shut me down and when I mentioned about getting out in the garden, he just bit my head off,” I tell her. “Told me that, if it offended me so much, I should do something about it myself.” I pause. “I should never have left; this is all my fault.”
“No, it is not your fault,” Jackie says firmly. “Thomas is a grown man; he’s made his choices and they have nothing to do with you, do you hear me?”
>
“But Mum wanted us to look after each other,” I remind her, my voice small and childlike. “I just abandoned him.”
“You didn’t abandon him and I don’t ever want to hear you say that again, okay?” Jackie retorts. “You did all you could for him but you know what he’s like: stubborn as a bloody mule.”
I chuckle through my tears, hearing my Mum’s description of Dad in my head. “Yeah, he is,” I hear myself agreeing as I reach for the kitchen towel to dry my eyes.
“But you’re just as stubborn,” Jackie reminds me. “So, you need to ignore whatever rubbish he’s spouting and make him see that you won’t be putting up with it anymore. Do you understand, my girl?”
I smile, suddenly feeling more positive than I was two minutes ago; it’s amazing what a no-nonsense pep talk from Jackie de Luca can do. “Yeah.”
As we say our goodbyes (with a promise from me that I’ll stop by The Dragon tonight), I realise Jackie’s right: I can be just as stubborn, and bull-headed, as he can – Mum was always saying that; so, I’ll take every sarcastic remark and comment on the chin and show him that I won’t be giving up on him any time soon.
Chapter 14
Okay, so it wasn’t the best dinner we’ve ever had but it also wasn’t the worst, either. Conversation was sparse, strained at times, but we got through it and I even got a compliment, and a small smile, from Dad when he pointed out that my roast definitely surpassed my toad in the hole; I couldn’t help laughing at that and even suggested that I come back to see if that was, indeed, the case now that I’ve had a little more practice. I’m not sure if we actually agreed on another visit but the thought’s out there, anyway.
It’s nearly four by the time I leave and the light’s fading, shrouding Keldsthwaite in growing darkness. I pull my scarf closer around my neck and zip my coat up, glad I’m not lugging three or four bags across the village now; it’s much colder than it had been this morning, the biting wind really settling in now that night’s fallen.
I shove my hands deep into my pockets, wishing I’d had the foresight to bring gloves, and set off, back home. I haven’t gone too far when I hear a shout behind me; I turn to find Glenn heading my way, Yogi in tow (on a lead, this time, thankfully). Seeing him, I’m reminded of my behaviour last night and find myself wishing I could be anywhere but here.
“Hey, are you stalking me?” Glenn jokes, as he gets nearer. “You know that’s a crime, right; one I could arrest you for?”
“You’re hilarious, you know that, don’t you?” I ask, smiling, despite myself.
“So I’ve been told,” he agrees readily, pulling Yogi away from me. “Looks like I’m not the only one excited to see you.”
I smile down at the dog pleased to see he’s not drooling this time; reaching out, I run my hand through the thick layers of fur on his neck, relishing its warmth. “Hello again, Yogi.” The dog licks my other hand in response but this time it’s nowhere near as gross as before.
I glance up at Glenn, my earlier guilt returning tenfold; I have to apologise for my behaviour and there’s no time like the present, I guess. “Glenn, I’m… I’m sorry about last night; the way I ran off was-”
“Rude; yeah, I know,” he states with a grin.
I laugh, sensing he wasn’t offended; actually, I really like the fact that he calls me out about things. “Yeah, that was pretty much what I was going to say.”
He smiles, as we fall into step beside one another, Yogi leading the way. “So, what brings you out on a night like this?” he asks, as we start walking slowly back towards the village. “I would have thought you’d have a ton of other things to be doing rather than walking the streets in this weather.”
“Oh, yeah, because my life’s just so full at the moment,” I mutter bitterly. I glance at Glenn. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure about that?”
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’ve just spent the afternoon with my father.”
“Ah, I see.”
I have the feeling he’s watching so am not surprised to see his eyes boring into me when I look up at him. “What?” I ask, a little defensively.
“What?” he echoes. “I didn’t say a thing.”
“You didn’t have to,” I mutter.
He remains silent as I continue to look at him, his eyes softening as he says gently, “Look, Jess; if you ever want to talk about anything… I’m here.”
I flash him a smile. “Thanks, but-”
“You don’t need to talk,” he says knowingly. “You know, I once thought that but, as it turned out, talking was exactly what I needed.”
I say nothing, mulling over his words; they’re words I’ve heard so many times before (from Jackie, Holly and Sofia, in particular) but ‘talking’ has never been something I’ve found easy, especially where my family is concerned.
“And, sometimes,” Glenn continues, “it helps to talk to someone who isn’t a close friend or family.”
I eye him suspiciously. “You just want all the gossip, don’t you?”
He laughs. “You got me in one,” he concedes. “This place is way more interesting than any city and you, Jess, are the most interesting of all.”
I shake my head. “If you think flattery’s going to work, you’re sadly mistaken.”
“If only it were that simple!” Glenn retorts. “No, I’m going to have to work for our friendship.”
I smile, pleased that Glenn doesn’t seem put off by my reluctance to talk; it hasn’t always been the case with guys, I can tell you. I suddenly realise we’ve reached the green; I can see the tearooms, a faint light shining through the windows – it’s closed but, no doubt, Holly and Amy are tidying away, preparing for tomorrow…
I glance over to The Dragon, recalling my promise to Jackie, but, as I walk beside Glenn, I realise I don’t want us to part ways – not just yet, anyway.
“Do you want to sit down for a bit?” I ask quietly.
Glenn smiles. “You do know how to show a guy a good time, don’t you? Sitting in the dark, freezing our butts off when there’s a perfectly good pub over there,” he says.
“Yeah but, if we go in The Dragon, Jackie will want to talk to me and then we won’t get a chance to talk properly,” I point out.
“Well, I guess when you put it like that…” Glenn offers me his arm. “My Lady.”
I smile as I slip my arm into his, glad of his warmth, as we slowly make our way to the nearest bench. We sit and, for a moment, say nothing, just looking at the Christmas tree as I slowly realise I’m still holding onto him – and it seems I’m in no hurry to let him go, either. I glance down as Yogi makes himself comfortable at my feet, his head on my knee.
“He likes you,” Glenn smiles.
“Well, he’s certainly making a better impression now than when we first met,” I joke, stroking his massive head. Pausing, I brace myself for my next question. “So, the thing you needed to talk about…” I begin slowly, “was it the reason you left Carlisle?”
Glenn turns to me, his eyes shining in the moonlight. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” he observes with a laugh.
I blush, sensing I’ve overstepped the mark; whatever possessed me to go snooping into his past, especially when I’m reluctant to delve into my own? I’m such a hypocrite! Pulling away from him, I say, “I’m so sorry; I shouldn’t have asked-”
“Jess, hey, it’s okay; I don’t have anything to hide,” he insists quickly, probably afraid I’ll hightail it again. “My fiancé cheated on me,” he says simply before adding, “with my partner, of all people.” He glances at me. “How clichéd can you get, eh?”
“Wait, what?” I exclaim, unable to believe what I’m hearing; didn’t that sort of thing only happen on TV?
Glenn scoffs. “Yep; the woman I loved more than anything cheated on me with the guy I thought I could trust with my life,” he says bitterly.
I reach out, taking his hand in mine. “I’m so
sorry, Glenn; that’s… awful.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “And he was going to be my best man, too,” he adds, lost in thought, before continuing. “The first time it happened, they were drunk, apparently, but then the more they tried to fight it, the more they realised they couldn’t. After I found out, that was the end of the engagement and our partnership.”
I scoff. “I should think so, too.”
“Anyway, I started looking for a transfer; to be honest, I’d have gone pretty much anywhere but, luckily for me, I saw this place and knew I had to go for it.” He smiles. “This was the best move I could have made. It’s helped my move on; given me a fresh start.”
“Well, at least I know, now, that Sofia’s wrong.”
Glenn frowns. “Wrong about what?”
I chuckle, rolling my eyes. “She thought you were either a monk or gay.”
“She what?” he cries with a laugh. “Why would she think I was either?”
“Because you’ve been single since being here,” I explain. “To her, that kind of behaviour is unheard of.”
Glenn turns to face me, his arm resting on the top of the bench. “Well, that’s just because I haven’t met the right woman,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine.
I swallow, nervously, my mouth suddenly dry; is he saying what I think he’s saying? “Glenn, you should know… I’m not staying here; I’ll be returning to London straight after Christmas.”
He turns away, shifting awkwardly on the bench. “Yeah, I figured as much,” he says quietly, before adding, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, right?”
I smile. “No, it doesn’t.”
He nods, his smile widening. “Good.”
We lapse into silence and I can feel the awkwardness growing between us. See, this is what I hate about the dating game; someone always ends up getting hurt. It isn’t fair; it isn’t right.
“The tearooms look great by the way,” he says, breaking the silence.
“What?” I ask, wondering what provoked that comment.
All I Want For Christmas (A Sweet, Contemporary Romance) (Romance In The Lakes Book 1) Page 7