The past few months had changed John. Something about losing Sonia had finally chipped away at any hard covering he had. Meeting Liz and Bella and Alex had shown him that he wasn’t unlovable. All he’d ever needed to do was reach out. That was all he needed to do now.
David came out of the prison gates and stood blinking, as though finding the daylight too bright and the real world too big for him after all that time he’d spent away. He looked up and down the street. Possibly, he was finding it hard to connect John the pensioner with the man his father had once been, just as John was surprised to find that he was now the father of a distinctly middle-aged man.
‘David,’ he called at last. ‘David, I’m over here.’
And that familiar smile spread over David’s face.
‘Dad.’
John stuck his hand out and they shook on it. David used the leverage to pull his father into the hug they both really needed.
John drove them both back to the house in Newbay. David hadn’t ever been to the house where his parents had lived for so long.
‘Been waiting for you to come and help me with the painting,’ John said.
‘I can do that, Dad.’ David jumped at the chance to let John know he was capable of working.
They had lunch in the kitchen. John had made sandwiches. David’s favourite, as he remembered it. Cheese and pickle. David seemed to savour every mouthful.
‘I can’t tell you how good it is to eat something other than prison food.’
‘I thought prison food was getting better.’
John told him about Alex.
‘You’ve been learning to cook?’
‘A man can’t live on sandwiches.’
‘I don’t know, these are pretty good.’
The conversation was a little awkward. John wanted to know everything about David’s time inside and yet a big part of him also wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened. So they talked about what John had been doing the past few years. Up until the point at which Sonia died.
‘They would have let me come out for the funeral,’ said David. ‘But I didn’t think you’d want me there.’
‘I should have insisted you come to say goodbye,’ said John.
‘I prefer to remember her as I last saw her anyway,’ said David. ‘She came to see me on my birthday.’
Just three days before she died. John had thought at the time that she seemed tired.
‘I just wish I could have told her my good news,’ David continued. ‘But I didn’t know until a month later.’
‘What good news?’ John asked.
‘I’ve been in touch with Vicki,’ said David. Vicki was David’s old girlfriend. The one who’d gone off to rehab when he went inside. ‘She wrote to me out of the blue.’
‘How’s she doing?’ John asked.
‘She’s a mum. She was pregnant when I got arrested. I had no idea. She didn’t tell me. Nobody did. Dad, she had a little girl. She’s nearly eighteen. She’s your granddaughter. Her name is Madison.’
John felt the room spin around him. He leaned forward onto the table, burying his face in his hands.
‘Dad?’
David placed his hand upon his father’s shoulder.
‘Dad, are you OK? I know this is a shock.’
‘You’re telling me,’ said John. He straightened up. David looked instantly relieved. ‘Why didn’t she let you know she was having a baby?’
‘You know what I was like, Dad. Would you have chosen me for the father of your grandchild? Vicki’s parents persuaded her that the best thing to do was cut all contact. I’m not even on the birth certificate because we weren’t together when the baby was born. There was nothing I could have brought to a baby’s life back then. And then Vicki got married to someone else and they had two more kids. They were a family. She didn’t need me. Madison had a dad.’
‘So what changed?’
‘Madison got older and she wanted to know the truth. Vicki decided it was time to let her know it. She’s nearly an adult after all.’
‘And have you met her?’
David nodded. ‘She came to see me inside. It’s not the best way to meet your daughter but it was wonderful.’
John nodded.
‘She’s really clever. She’s doing her A levels. She wants to study psychology. She’s doing really well. Though no thanks to me, of course. Oh Dad, I’m so grateful that she even wanted to meet me.’
‘Are you going to see her again?’ John asked.
‘I am. Do you want to come with me? I know she’d like to meet you too. I’ve got a photo.’
David dug into his rucksack and pulled out an envelope. ‘Lots, actually. Vicki printed out loads of pictures from all the years I’ve missed. Look at this one, Dad. Doesn’t she look like—’
‘Your mum. Sonia. Yes, she does.’
John couldn’t help smiling at the familiar face, passed down to another generation. The eyes, nose and lips he knew so well, living on in their grandchild. It was like magic.
‘She must get her brains from Mum too. God knows me and Vicki never had any.’
‘You were young,’ said John. ‘And it sounds like Vicki’s grown into a great woman. Your mum always liked her.’
‘I just wish Mum had known.’
John nodded. He felt as though his heart was breaking again as he thought of all that Sonia had missed out on. She’d always wanted a grandchild. Life was so unfair.
‘She would have loved Madison, wouldn’t she?’ said David.
‘Yes,’ said John. ‘She would.’
And she would have told John to do his best to welcome the girl into the family. He could almost hear her saying it. Sonia would not have wanted him to miss this chance to make up for lost time. He would tell Madison what a wonder her grandmother had been. He’d love their granddaughter enough for the both of them.
‘Madison is going to love you too. Granddad,’ David assured him.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
It was Saturday morning and time for the final session of the autumn term of Waggy Weight Loss Club. Liz decided it would be a good idea to put Ted through a home weigh-in to give her some idea of what she would be facing when he took to the scales in front of Dr Thomas and Nurse Van Niekerk.
This time, when Liz stood with Ted in her arms on the bathroom scales, she did not subtract anything for her clothes.
‘I think it’s going to be OK,’ she told her wriggling dog when she saw the numbers. ‘I think the diet is finally working.’
She put Ted back down on the floor.
‘Good luck at Waggy Weight Loss,’ said Saskia as they headed out. ‘Ted’s looking really good, Mum. I’m sure he’s lost weight this time.’
Liz agreed. Safe in the knowledge that she had already weighed him and the scales concurred. ‘Fingers crossed,’ she said.
That morning, Liz decided that she and Ted would walk all the way to the veterinary surgery. It was a beautiful late autumn day and she was determined that she would not miss an opportunity to help Ted shed even a milligram. Every little counted.
The car park at the surgery was not as full as it had been for the first few sessions of the club. Liz guessed that her fellow Waggy Weight Losers were of the same mind. They all wanted to graduate. With honours.
Liz knew from having read Nurse Van Niekerk’s update on the Facebook page, that there would also be prizes for the dogs who had lost the most weight over the course of the term. She wasn’t especially hopeful for Ted’s chances in that category but who knew. Twinkle in particular, had yo-yoed in weight throughout the WWL experience. He might well have blown the previous week’s progress with a dustbin raid.
Or maybe not … There was Twinkle and Mr Twinkle, putting in one last lap around the playing field before the weigh-in began. Twinkle looked especially wild-eyed. Liz would have put money on Mr Twinkle having refused his dog breakfast.
‘Hercules! And Mr Hercules,’ Liz greeted the Chihuahua and his owner at the surgery door. ‘Are yo
u ready for this?’
‘Yes,’ said Mr Hercules. ‘Though I don’t think Herc’s got any chance in the biggest loser category. Overweight as he was, because of his size he just didn’t have the most weight to lose.’
‘I’m assuming Dr Thomas will be working out the biggest loser by percentage lost,’ said Liz. ‘Otherwise none of us can compete with Twinkle.’
‘What do you think?’ asked Mr Hercules, casting a side-eye towards the big-boned Cockapoo and his owner. ‘I think he’s put some back on.’
‘Maybe,’ said Liz. She hadn’t realised Mr Hercules was so competitive.
‘Going in?’ Mr Twinkle was suddenly beside them. They all trooped into reception and bagged the three remaining chairs.
There was no sign of Mrs Coco. Liz assumed that Coco had been signed off WWL after her operation. All the others were there. Ted did the rounds, sniffing bottoms in a particularly friendly way. The owners merely nodded at one another. They understood what was at stake. There was no fraternising with the competition on the human side.
At ten o’clock precisely, Nurse Van Niekerk bustled in with her clipboard.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she addressed the dogs. ‘Owners.’ They were all used to the joke by now. ‘Thank you all for coming in for this last session of Waggy Weight Loss. I’m really pleased to see you all here today and I know Dr Thomas will be too. He’s just attending to a very special patient and then he’ll be right with us.’
Less than half a minute later, the door from the surgery opened and Dr Thomas walked in. Followed by Mrs Coco and Coco herself.
Their appearance prompted a spontaneous round of applause. Not least because Coco was walking, and far more enthusiastically than the other WW Losers had ever seen her walking before. Her stumpy tail let everyone know how happy she was. Ted gave a squeak of delight to see his friend.
‘Coco is going home today,’ said Dr Thomas. ‘But not before she’s seen you all get your Waggy Weight Loss certificates.’
Mrs Coco gave Liz the thumbs up behind Dr Thomas’s back.
‘Let’s get on with it shall we? In alphabetical order … Biscuit!’
All the dogs jumped up.
The weigh-in was tense. Everyone was so keen to see their dogs succeed. Thankfully, no one had gone backwards but there was disappointment in store for some. Biscuit was still too heavy. So was Monty, the golden Lab. Ted, much to Liz’s relief, was just about on target. Hercules was doing especially well. But not well enough.
‘The winner for being this term’s biggest loser is … Twinkle!’ Dr Thomas announced at the end of the weigh-in after, as Liz had predicted, weights had been adjusted for size. ‘Let’s have a big round of applause for Twinkle.’
Everyone except Mr Hercules obliged.
Twinkle’s prize was a very fancy dog toy.
‘For you to play with on the common,’ said Dr Thomas to the dog. ‘Remember that exercise is key to keeping that weight off.’
Nurse Van Niekerk played a blast of ‘Move it, move it’.
‘But Twinkle is not the only winner today. I know that making sure your dog sticks to a diet can be every bit as difficult as sticking to a diet yourself. And, just like humans, our dogs are all individuals who gain or lose weight at their own pace. It can be disheartening when you’re not losing as much as the dog next door. That’s why I have decided to award a prize for effort. Mr Hercules, would you please step up?’
The dog toy Dr Thomas presented to Hercules was almost as big as the dog itself.
‘We can trade this in for something smaller,’ Dr Thomas suggested.
‘No,’ said Mr Hercules. ‘This will be just fine. Hercules is stronger than he looks. He’s a big dog in a small dog’s body.’
Hercules snatched the toy and dragged it into a corner, like a sabre-tooth tiger defending a mammoth bone.
‘OK, everybody, there are certificates for the rest of you too. In no particular order … Biscuit!’
All the dogs jumped up again.
Ted was called to receive his certificate last of all.
‘It’s good to see you back here,’ Dr Thomas said to Liz.
‘We made our target weight,’ said Liz.
‘You certainly did. I knew you would. I could tell the first time we met that you’re a determined woman and you care about your dog. He cares about you too,’ Dr Thomas added.
‘He’s been a tower of strength,’ Liz admitted. ‘And I will try to make sure he sticks to a healthy eating regime from now on, so that you never have to see us again, Dr T.’
‘That would be a pity.’
Liz noticed that Dr Thomas, Evan, was still holding her hand. He hadn’t dropped it since they posed shaking hands for the WWL Facebook page.
‘Well, you could come and have your teeth cleaned more often,’ Liz suggested.
‘I was hoping we might see each other in a rather more relaxing context than that. I still want to hear that three-Martini tale …’
Nurse Van Niekerk cleared her throat.
Dr Thomas let go of Liz’s hand.
‘Right, everybody, that concludes this session of Waggy Weight Loss! All that remains is for me to remind you that the praise of someone we love tastes far sweeter than any dog snack and if you really can’t stay off the snacks, don’t forget to move it, move it!’
Nurse Van Niekerk did the dance one more time. Unenthusiastically.
‘Have a great weekend, everybody,’ Dr Thomas said.
Liz followed the rest of the owners and their dogs out into the car park, where they chatted about their dogs’ achievements and made plans for a reunion at some point in the future. They’d certainly keep up the Facebook page.
‘Got to keep each other honest,’ Mr Hercules told Mr Twinkle.
‘I’m so glad Coco is better,’ Liz told Mrs Coco.
‘It’s all thanks to Dr Thomas,’ said Mrs Coco. ‘That man is so devoted. He really is just wonderful.’
‘Yes, he is,’ Liz finally agreed.
Liz helped Mrs Coco load Coco into the car then she started her walk back home. About halfway there, she stopped to send an email from her phone.
‘What are you doing next Thursday night?’
‘What are you suggesting?’ came Dr Thomas’s response.
Chapter Sixty
Thursday. The last session of the beginners’ cookery course and the graduation dinner.
Bella’s mum was already waiting when Bella pulled up outside the house at six. She’d dressed up. She was wearing her favourite outfit. A cream-coloured silk shirt she’d had for years – since Bella’s father had bankrupted them, Maria knew how to make things last – with a neat grey pleated skirt. When she saw that Bella was wearing her jeans, she tutted.
‘I thought you were taking me somewhere special,’ she said.
‘I am, Mum. ‘It’s just that I’m going to get a little hot and sticky.’
‘What? Why?’ Maria was confused. ‘Why will you be getting hot and sticky? Where are we going? What are we doing? I thought we were going out to dinner.’
‘We are,’ said Bella, as she opened the passenger door for her mother to get in. ‘It’s just that I’m making the dinner.’
‘You’re what?’
‘I’m making the dinner. Don’t look so surprised. I’ve been having cooking lessons.’
Maria’s head snapped round.
‘I started last month. I’m not exactly cordon bleu standard yet but I’m getting there. I’m really enjoying it. I’d forgotten how much I like to cook.’
Maria was tight-lipped.
‘Like your father,’ she said eventually.
‘Yes,’ said Bella. ‘Just like Dad.’
They drove to the community centre in silence. Bella half expected her mother to demand they turn around but she didn’t. How could she? Bella had invited her to dinner, that was all. They’d managed to ignore the tension in the house over the café’s failure for years. Why should they have a huge bust-up about it now? Yet Bella
knew she had to say something.
She found a space in the car park but before they got out she told Maria that she had to tell her what she’d been thinking. After all, she’d realised over the past six weeks that the café and what happened to it had shaped the rest of her life. She’d listened to her mother’s anguish and followed her advice to get a ‘proper’ job because of it. Bella had spent a decade in that proper job and it had brought her security – if you could call her unfinished flat security – but it hadn’t brought her the happiness she’d assumed security also promised.
‘Mum,’ said Bella, ‘the restaurant didn’t fail because dad was some kind of loser. It failed because of the prevailing economic climate. It failed because the bank he was borrowing from wouldn’t give him any leeway to suspend or reduce his payments when the recession hit. It failed because he was a good person who wouldn’t have dreamt of stiffing his suppliers to keep himself out of a hole. It failed because he was trying to bring high-end Italian food to Newbay at a time when most people still though spag Bol was exotic. If he opened his restaurant today, it would be different. It wasn’t his fault. If you want to trace it right back, the café failed because of the bankers and the lawyers. The people with the “proper jobs” who never took a risk except with other people’s lives.’
Maria looked straight ahead.
‘Dad deserved our love and support and sympathy. He was broken by what happened. We could have put him back together. Instead, we went with the bankers’ line that the café failed because he was a failure too. We let him down when he needed us most.’
Maria was silent for a while. Then she said, ‘Not we, Bella. Me. Me. His wife! You were always so proud of him. It was me that should have been different. I should have stuck by him through thick and thin. But, sweetheart, I was so scared. Your father was busy feeding the homeless of Newbay while I knew how close we were to losing our own home. If one of us hadn’t taken a hard line, we’d have been out on the street. The café was dragging us down. I know it broke his heart to have to close it. It broke mine too.’
The Worst Case Scenario Cookery Club Page 28