by Jay Howard
~~~
She woke to bright sunshine streaming into the room and a gentle breeze wafting the net curtains. Her eyes flew wide open as she heard her son outside, in conversation with a man whose voice she knew so well. In a few fluid movements she was out of bed, dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt and down the stairs.
“Christopher,” she said, a sharp edge in her voice, “I’ve told you many times not to talk to strangers.”
Christopher squinted up against the sunlight and rubbed the side of his freckled nose. “He’s not really a stranger, Mum,” he said. “His name is Aiden and that’s his boat out there.” He pointed out into the bay, where the yacht swung gently at anchor. “She’s called the Edith Moon and you have to call boats she, not it, because they’re as beautiful as the women they’re named after. And Aiden writes books which he says I won’t like now but I might when I’m older.” He dragged his spade through the sand, leaving a deep furrow. “Soooo, if I know all that he’s not a stranger any more, is he?” He looked back up at his mother, waiting for her verdict.
“And what about before you knew all this about Aiden?” she said, in the forcedly reasonable tone that warned Christopher he wasn’t yet out of the woods. “When you first saw him you saw a stranger, but that doesn’t seem to have stopped you from disobeying me.”
“But I didn’t speak to him, because he was a stranger, so he spoke to me and told me stuff so he wasn’t a stranger and I could talk back.”
Meredith loved the way Christopher’s mind worked, the way he used prior knowledge, logic and extrapolation to make sense of his world, but it could also be very annoying.
Aiden chuckled. “He’s very bright, isn’t he?”
“Very devious, I’d say - like his father.”
Christopher looked from one to the other, looking puzzled, then shrugged. “I’ve never met my father,” he told Aiden. “He went away before I was born to find something.”
Aiden looked serious. “What was it he was looking for?” he asked Christopher.
“Mum said he didn’t know, and that’s why it’s taking so long for him to come back. It’s very hard to find something when you don’t know what you’re looking for.”
Aiden nodded. “That’s true.” He looked at Meredith. “But you can be certain the moment he knows what it is he’ll be back.”
Meredith was becoming more uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. “I think it’s time for breakfast.” She took a few steps towards the sea and drew a line in the sand with her foot. She squatted and held her son’s hands, catching and holding his gaze. “Christopher - you’re not to go an inch closer to the sea than this line, OK?”
Christopher nodded; it was a familiar instruction.
“As it happens,” she told him, “I know Aiden from way back. We were next door neighbours for many years.” She paused, thinking about those years they’d grown up together, then pulled herself back to the present. “Aiden - come up to the house and help me prepare.” She stood and led the way.
Aiden realised she meant more than the meal by ‘prepare’ and meekly followed. “See you in a minute,” he said over his shoulder to Christopher.
Meredith stood in the kitchen, hands resting on the table as she waited for Aiden. “Don’t you dare tell him who you are,” she said as soon as he entered. “He can live with the idea of a new friend who doesn’t stay in touch. It would be devastating for him to know he met his father, only to have you just walk out on us again.”
“Don’t I have any rights as a father?”
“You would if you’d ever been a father.”
He turned a chair round and sat down, resting his crossed arms on the back. “I’m saying this all backwards again.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “Meredith,” he said, “I have no intention of walking out on the two of you again, not now, not ever. I’ll be forever grateful for whatever degree of access you’ll grant me to your lives. I’d like it to be full-time, but I’ll accept whatever you can find it in your heart to give me. I intend to earn a father’s rights, not demand them.”
Meredith put the milk jug down on the table so hard some milk sloshed over the top. She stared at the white puddle as she said, “Just remember one thing, Aiden - it is my decision, and mine alone, if and when I tell Christopher who his father is.” She looked up, searching his face for his reaction.
Aiden nodded his agreement. “OK. Now, shall I make some toast?”