by H A Dawson
‘They’ve tried a few.’ I paused as my worry intensified. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine.’
‘He’s in the best place, Kelly.’
I folded my arms. Whilst she was right and it matched my own positive comment, it didn’t calm me. I didn’t want the hospital to be the safest place for him. I wanted him to be at home or out enjoying himself; I wanted to see him working out at the fitness centre again. Was that ever going to happen? Even if they succeeded in stabilising him, his heart would remain problematic and it may limit his activities. I certainly couldn’t imagine him living into his seventies or eighties under any circumstances.
‘I can’t understand why this has had to happen,’ I said. ‘I’ve heard of people who are diagnosed with his condition and they remain on the same medication for years before it needs adjusting. He’s been incredibly unlucky.’
‘You could view it like that.’
I analysed her expression with intrigue.
‘If I were you, I’d be thinking how lucky he is and not the other way around. Many people die of his condition prior to diagnosis. You hear it on the news all the time. And many are far younger than he is when it happens.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘Has anyone else in his family had the condition?’
‘His mother died when she was thirty-nine of a heart attack. I think he was only seventeen or eighteen when it happened. I don’t know of cases further back. He’s not mentioned it.’
‘Does he have siblings?’
I shook my head. ‘He never knew his father, either. Apparently, he stayed with an uncle for a while after his mother’s passing, and then he got a job and fended for himself. I think it was a gardening job – hence his decision to set up a business.’
‘Does he see his father now?’
‘I don’t think they’ve met. From what I remember, he said his mother and father weren’t going to have a future together, so they agreed to go their separate ways.’
She held a firm stare.
‘I assume his father never knew his mother was expecting his child.’
Talking about my father’s past caused my fascination into his younger days to intensify. It seemed curious that he had two people missing from his life and wondered if there was a link. Bex might not be his daughter but his half-sister.
It was a thought worth pursuing, especially since I knew so little about that side of him. Aside from being aware that he was raised in a town in Cheshire, I knew very little about him. I wasn’t even certain how he had met my mother. Mum once told me that they had met in a smoky bar and had hit it off; although, thinking back, her response had seemed a little clipped and vague, something I’d questioned at the time. Perhaps I was too suspicious for my own good.
Keen to get answers to my mounting questions, I glanced at the clock. Afternoon visiting time had already begun and since I was changing to work the night shift, I had promised myself a couple of early nights and didn’t wish to visit later in the day. If I did, I would be home by eight thirty, which wasn’t late but it would prevent me from sticking with my routine and having a hot soak in the bath prior to climbing into bed by nine.
Even though I was a good sleeper, the shift system could be troublesome although I usually coped adequately after a couple of days and felt comfortable in my routine. Whilst it could feel a bit eerie working when everyone else was asleep, it had its benefits in that it was often a less demanding shift.
The worst time was about four o’clock in the morning at which point I ate dried fruit or cereal bars and had a coffee to boost my energy. I also made sure I took a walk around the hospital during my break, a process that helped me keep my sanity.
Another problem I’d encountered was staying in touch with people. I often felt isolated from everyone who lived conflicting routines, especially from those who worked regular nine to five days. The mornings were the best time for me to catch up with people. Of course, the majority were at work making communication difficult.
Since Matt worked odd hours, which included evenings and weekends, the time we spent together could be sporadic. Yet surprisingly, despite the clashes, it worked well and we both found time for each other even if we did meet at unconventional times of the day, such as seven o’clock in the morning.
I smiled at the thought. Not many men would get up early to pick me up after work. In fact, most of my boyfriends didn’t have the patience to accommodate my routine. When I couldn’t fit in with their plans, they moved swiftly on.
Saddened by the thought, I decided to show Matt a little appreciation, and went up to my bedroom, took my phone out of my bag, and flopped onto the bed.
He was swift to answer and asked me if I had sobered up.
‘Yeah, sorry about that. I hope I wasn’t rude.’
‘Nothing I’m not used to. I was going to call you, but I thought you’d be visiting your Dad today.’
‘I should be doing, but I haven’t been up long. We didn’t get to bed until the early hours, and then I slept like a log.’ I paused. ‘I’ll do it tomorrow.’
‘You shouldn’t keep putting it off.’
‘No, I’m not. Mum’s updated me a couple of times and she thinks his mood is improving. He is looking forward to seeing me. He wants to apologise for being negative.’
‘I wonder if he’ll tell you anything about his past.’
‘I’m not holding my breath. Anyway, I was wondering what your schedule is like over the next few days.’
‘You’re going on nights soon, aren’t you?’
‘Yeah, in a couple of days.’
‘Do you fancy meeting in the afternoon?’
‘I’ll be visiting Dad.’
‘I’m sure we can work around that, can’t we?’
‘We can.’ A smile formed on my face. ‘Thanks, Matt, you’re a star.’
‘My pleasure.’
The following day, Matt drew me into a hug and a kiss before guiding me into his lounge. It was late morning, and before we went out for lunch and then onto the hospital, he was going to show me the emails he had found on Dad’s computer. I wasn’t keen on prying into Dad’s private business and stared unwillingly as Matt initiated the laptop whilst describing the problem that had occurred and the repair that he’d applied.
‘So is it fixed?’ I asked.
‘I believe so. That’s why I wanted you here. It’s up to you to decide if you wish to take it with you to the hospital.’
‘Why wouldn’t I do that?’
‘There might be things on it relating to Bex. I just thought … you know … you might wish to check it out first.’
‘I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable doing that. It’s Dad’s business. If there’s anything to learn, he should tell me himself.’
‘Of course.’ He opened the email directory then passed me a concerned stare. ‘I haven’t been prying either, but I did come across a couple of things whilst I was checking everything was working.’
My pulse quickened and my dread gathered.
He opened an email. ‘This is the one he sent asking someone about Bex Chapman.’
I read the message. It was brief and didn’t say much other than what Matt had already told me. Even the recipient’s email address didn’t tell me anything as it comprised of letters and numbers.
‘You might want to make a note of it,’ he said. ‘You never know, you might decide to contact him or her at a later date.’
I stilled as a sense of dread tightened my gut. I didn’t think that Matt had made the comment to cause me to reflect on Dad’s passing, but it was how I interpreted it, and it was all I could think of. I couldn’t bear the thought of him dying. He had to pull through, one way or another. How would any of us ever survive without his energy, his joviality and his caring nature? Life would never be the same again.
I would never be the same again.
Matt’s hand landed on my forearm. ‘Kelly, what’s wrong?’
‘I don’t want him to die.
’
‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’ He pulled me closer. ‘I promise you, I wasn’t thinking anything like that. I was just thinking that if your father won’t talk to you then it’s an alternative way forward.’
I decided to consider his point of view and wondered if accessing Dad’s computer was such a terrible thing to do. If his secrets were hurting me and Dad refused to cooperate, then this would be a means of moving forward. It may even be beneficial to Dad; it would be a way of finding someone precious to him without him having to verbalise it.
I glanced at Matt. ‘You said you came across a couple of things.’
‘I did. As you know, photos stored on your computer are displayed on the screen when you press the Windows button, and they alternate. I couldn’t help but notice a few had been taken in Warwickshire. Benholt to be precise.’
I opened my mouth to speak.
‘Before you say it, I spent some time there when I was a teenager so I’m familiar with some of the sites.’
‘Okay, so why is that a big deal? They might have holidayed there.’
‘Have they?’
My pulse quickened. I shook my head.
‘Anyway, I saw a view that seemed similar to one we saw in one of your childhood videos.’ I paused to catch my attention. ‘Of course, there’s every chance I’m wrong.’
‘You must have a good memory.’
He shrugged.
‘Was it the video with Bex in?’
‘No, it wasn’t that one. It was one of you. There was building in the background with a fancy gable end with a round window.’
‘Okay, so presuming it is the same one, then it shouldn’t come as a surprise. I was born in Warwickshire and spent a few years there.’
‘So why is he taking photos now?’
He had a point. ‘Does it say when it was taken?’
‘Nine months ago.’ He paused. ‘If you ask me, it’s all part of his quest to find this mystery woman.’
I had to agree and it left me feeling uneasy. Who was she, and why was it so important he tracked her down? And why now? Had he suspected his heart was weakening for a while? I assumed he had and that he’d interpreted it as his need for closure. It was a worrying thought, and it left me feeling tense and troubled.
I was glad that I was going to speak to him in a few hours. I just hoped I would have the courage to bring it up.
For the last couple of hours, Matt and I had managed to avoid the subject of my father and went out for lunch at a pancake cafe, where I had a ham and cheese pancake with a side salad, and he had bacon and mushroom. We rarely had problems making conversation, even when taekwondo was off limits, and this time was no different.
He was the loveliest man I had ever known and had an easy-going personality and was warm and affectionate. It was times like this that I regretted my inability to remove the unease regarding our relationship from our mind, hence my reason for avoiding breaking up with him. I hoped we were stuck in a rut and that the spark had left our relationship due to our differences of opinion over the doping situation, yet I couldn’t be confident. Despite my doubts, I considered him an incredibly important friend and I didn’t wish to be without him.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked, drawing me away from my reflections.
I smiled and shook my head.
‘You went all gooey-eyed.’
‘I did not!’ I said. ‘Anyway, if you must know, I was thinking about you.’
‘That proves it then. You can’t have been gooey-eyed.’
My awkwardness triggered. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’
He smirked and reached for his beer.
‘You’re a lovely man and I do love you. You should know that.’
‘I wasn’t being serious.’ He put his empty glass on the table. ‘Shall we go? Visiting time is almost upon us.’
I agreed, albeit uneasily, and followed him from the café. As we journeyed to the hospital, I couldn’t help but wonder if the comment he had supposedly made in jest was a cover for something more serious. He must wonder why we were less passionate with each other than we had once been, and he must worry about it. Or perhaps it wasn’t a concern for him.
He interrupted my thoughts by asking me how I was going to tackle my father regarding his secretive past. His comment hit me like a stone, jolting me into another place, and suddenly, all the calmness I’d experienced over the last couple of hours evaporated and I was left feeling tense and anxious.
‘I’m not sure I want to see him,’ I said.
‘You’re going to have to. Perhaps you could play the video with Bex in. It would be a way of broaching the subject.’
‘That’s a good idea. I’ll do that.’
He turned into the hospital car park. ‘Then you can ask him who she is.’
‘He might not answer.’
‘Don’t let him fob you off.’ He stopped the car outside the main entrance. ‘And try not to worry. He’s your dad. He won’t bite.’
I unbuckled my seat belt and started out of the car.
‘I’ll be back in about an hour,’ he said.
I was too nervous to speak and nodded my reply, shut the door, and started away.
Chapter 6
I hadn’t thought to ask if my mother would be visiting until I was progressing through the hospital corridors. If she were there, it would throw my plan into disarray. Dad had made it clear he had secrets from her, and whilst I firmly believed she had a right to know about his past, as Matt had told me, it wasn’t my place to share whatever I learned.
A part of me would be grateful for her presence, as it would alleviate me of my need to question my father, but a greater part of me needed to do this now to get it out of the way. I couldn’t bear the thought of it hanging over me for any longer. My ignorance combined with my wild imagination, which I hoped was presenting me with stories more scandalous than the truth, was wearing me down. It hadn’t affected my sleep yet, but I knew once I started the night shift and tried to sleep during the afternoons then a weakened mental state might have a detrimental effect on my overall health. I didn’t want that to happen.
There was a queue at the lift presumably because visiting time was due to start and people were keen to get to their loved ones. Lacking the patience to hang around and hoping to burn off a little adrenaline, I opted to take the stairs and weaved around slow individuals from a teenage girl on her mobile phone to a man using crutches, and arrived at the relevant floor.
Overcome with a bout of anxiety, I needed a moment to gather my composure and popped into the bathroom to release hot air gathered under my blouse and to calm my breathing. Then, I sprayed a little body perfume under my clothes and brushed my hair. Having told myself that I was visiting my father, a man I loved rather than a monster, and reminding myself of our unbreakable bond, I left the room my spirits lifted.
I stepped into the ward, my eyes trained on Dad sitting up and reading a newspaper. When he noticed me, his smile was so broad that my anxieties seemed a distant memory.
‘It’s so good to see you, baby-girl.’
‘Sorry I haven’t been in,’ I said and kissed his cheek. ‘How are you doing?’
‘I’ve been thoroughly bored, but I’m much better for seeing you.’ He paused catching my eye. ‘They’re having a meeting in a few days to discuss what to do with me. Apparently, I’m a bit of a misnomer.’
I studied his expression and body language. He looked a bit grey, probably due to fatigue, and his voice was more laboured and breathier than normal. I also wondered if he felt a little light-headed, as between passages of speech he rested his head on his pillow keeping it at an unnatural angle, presumably to reduce the sense of movement.
I didn’t share my thoughts nor did I contradict my father when he told me he felt good. It would have been a pointless exercise and would have caused Dad unnecessary irritation, something I wasn’t there to do. Instead, I sought a change of subject and considered showing him the videos.
It was time to be brave. ‘I’ve brought the videos you asked for,’ I said. ‘I thought we could watch a few together.’
He passed me a blank stare.
‘We’ll have to look at them on my iPad. I’m afraid Matt’s repairing your laptop. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘He shouldn’t be doing that,’ he said stiffly. ‘I can do it myself.’
‘I know, but he wanted to. We thought you’d be happy.’
‘You should have asked me first.’ He shuffled positions. ‘He has enough to do. And I am capable.’
As I typed in my password, I wondered if his unease was due to him not wanting to take Matt’s time or if there were things in there that he’d prefer us not to see. I decided upon the latter; I couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t accept someone doing him a favour, not given his own generous nature.
I chose not to comment, and, or so it seemed, he decided against it too, and we both remained in an awkward silence. Whilst he remained in a solitary state, frowning and pensive, I continued with my task, and plugged the memory stick into the iPad and played one of the videos.
I was about three or four years old and racing about a recreation playground and bouncing in excitement. It was so appealing to watch that I didn’t need to force a positive mood or a chuckle, and reacted naturally. Dad, though, barely raised a smile. His mood was disconcerting, so much so that I found myself commenting.
‘I wanted to look through them in my own time,’ he said.
‘What’s wrong with doing it together?’
He hesitated. ‘I haven’t seen much of you recently. I’d like to hear what you’ve been doing.’
Grimacing, I withheld a flood of words. Hadn’t he told me that I didn’t need to visit every day? Was it wrong of me to have taken him literally?