‘How you doing?’ asked Nell. I’d drunk half my tea and was feeling a bit more human. Less head in a box.
‘Better. In fact, great. I feel great.’ It was his loss. He’d had the opportunity to get to know his daughter and he’d blown it. I hoped that the knowledge would eat him up.
‘Are you sure? Because you don’t look so great.’
‘Cheers,’ I said.
‘Sorry. Do you want to talk about it? I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I don’t want to interfere.’
I love Nell, but she doesn’t half witter.
‘He doesn’t want me to contact him again. He says he isn’t my dad,’ I said. I could feel the words catching in my throat, but I wasn’t going to cry. Not in the centre of Plymouth. On a bench.
Nell handed me a tissue. ‘I mean, did he even look at you? You’re his total spit.’
I blew my nose. ‘I don’t know. He just seemed to panic and then he told me never to contact him again and ran off.’
‘I guess it might have come as quite a shock,’ she said.
‘You think he might not have known anything about me?’
‘It’s possible. And, even so, it was a long time ago, and I suppose he might not have been expecting to meet his daughter on his lunch break.’
I didn’t want to admit it, but she could be right.
‘Do you mind if we go home? Don’t think I can face walking along the Hoe today.’
‘No problem,’ said Nell. ‘We can do that another time. Come on. Let’s go and catch the bus. Having to carry all these bags would have been a real nuisance anyway.’
She stood up and pulled me to my feet and shepherded me through the crowds to the bus terminal. I couldn’t get my head round having seen my real father. He’d been right there in front of me. I could see his eyes, the same colour as mine, his hair the same colour as mine (under the pink). I’d ruined the one chance I’d have at getting to know him. To ask him some questions. To find out what he was like. Not in a fairy tale, spin you round when you first meet type way, but in a friendly, open, adult way.
Nell put me onto the right bus and sat me down nearest the window before squeezing herself and the shopping in after.
‘OK?’ she said.
I nodded and turned to look out of the window. It had started to rain, big fat drops hitting the glass and running down the window. As the bus drove through the streets, the outside world blurred. Nell fell asleep just outside Plymouth and her head rested gently on my shoulder.
This was my family now. In a few years, maybe sooner, John and Jackie would no longer be my foster-parents. I’d have to move out. Stand on my own two feet. And who would be there for me? My friends, that’s who. My friends and no one else.
The thought made me feel sick. Everyone else had a family to look out for them. And not just parents. A whole team of people on their side – grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. Why had the universe decided that I didn’t deserve that? And the one person who could have perhaps had a passing interest didn’t want to know. The windows were steaming up as soaked people got onto the bus and the rain continued to hammer down. I couldn’t reach the tissue Nell had given me without disturbing her, so I let the tears drip off my chin.
Chapter 19
Sasha
Pierre: I have the evening off – fancy meeting up for a moonlit swim?
I can say, hand on heart, that this was the single most exciting text I had ever received. Maybe will ever receive.
Me: Sure. See you by the lake at sunset.
I pondered adding a kiss. He hadn’t. Perhaps it was implied. I decided against it and pressed send, my palms sweating.
‘Dad,’ I shouted from the sofa. ‘I’m out this evening, OK?’
He didn’t need the details. I could make up something about having to call home and needing a bit of privacy.
‘Sorry, ma cherie,’ he called back, ‘it can’t be tonight. We have dinner reservations.’
‘Well, go without me. I’ll be happy with takeout pizza.’
I was starting to feel panicky. I had to meet Pierre this evening. I could 100 per cent guarantee it would be one of my biggest life regrets if I didn’t.
‘There’s nowhere that does takeout pizza.’
‘Just you and Clarisse go. I’m more than happy staying in. I’ll grab something here.’
Please. Please.
‘Not this evening, Natasha. Any other evening, but not tonight. It’s important.’
What could be so freaking important?
‘Dad, please.’ I was now actually begging. ‘Please, could we move it to another night maybe?’ Anything. I would do anything.
Dad came stomping out of his room, half-dressed, his shirt untucked and his hair messed up. ‘Natasha! Enough. This restaurant has a waiting list weeks long. I have said you are coming and that is final.’ He stormed back into his room and shut the door. I could hear him complaining about stubborn teenage daughters in French.
I texted Pierre: Sorry, I can’t make it tonight. Got to have dinner with my dad and his stupid girlfriend.
Pierre: Another time perhaps.
My inner rage shifted up a gear from simmering. I was missing out on an awesome night to remember in order to spend the evening with Dad and Clarisse in some stupid posh restaurant. The unfairness made me mad. Like kick-a-wall mad. Like scream-and-shout mad.
It was a moonlit evening, perfect for lake swimming. Dad had dressed up in his cream linen suit and Clarisse was wearing an off-the-shoulder dress. Dad had suggested (from a safe distance) that I might like to dress the part too. I wore my super-short, cut-off, fraying jeans and a top which had the slogan ‘YOLO’ across the front. Dad said nothing, though Clarisse rolled her eyes when she saw me. She glared at my dad. Clearly I wasn’t the only one who thought this evening’s meal should be a romantic meal for the two of them.
Once we were seated, and the waiter had poured our drinks, Dad raised his glass. ‘To my girls, what would I do without you both?’ He repeated it in French for Clarisse, while I got over the wave of nausea. I was Dad’s girl, true. And in some ways Clarisse was too – she was certainly young enough. But I was a daughter girl and she was girlfriend girl. Two totally different things. Hence the high reading on the barf-o-meter.
‘It’s so lovely being here, with you both. Thank you for both agreeing to come here this summer. It’s made me very happy.’ I suspected that Dad had already had a drink back at the apartment. He’s usually more open with his feelings than most people I know, but this was bordering on the embarrassing, even for him.
The starters arrived and fortunately he was sidetracked by his mozzarella and tomato. I tucked into my tagliatelle, wishing the meal would hurry up and be over. Maybe if I was quick, there might still be time for a swim.
‘Darling, you’ve got to try this,’ said Dad, offering a forkful of mozzarella to Clarisse. She opened her mouth and he fed her.
I felt desperate. I needed to be anywhere, look anywhere, but at them. I became transfixed with the lights along the opposite shoreline of the lake. They must be a train as they were in a line and travelling quickly. I wished I was on that train, heading anywhere as long it was away from here.
By the time our main course arrived, I’d seen four trains travel along the shore, several small boats had sailed past on the lake and, seven times, Dad had muttered something into Clarisse’s ear making her laugh. I just had to survive this cringe-fest, then I could escape back to the apartment. Perhaps I could say I was full, and didn’t need dessert? Maybe I could have a headache? I searched for the perfect excuse.
I rammed mouthful after mouthful down. I wanted to leave, but I was still hungry. I’d eat as fast as I could, then I’d be off. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me leaving. Clarisse didn’t want me there anyway. She kept looking at my clothes and frowning. I felt like smiling sweetly at her and saying I picked them just for her, because I know how much she likes the dress-down look.
I popp
ed the last mouthful in and was about to speak when Dad beat me to it.
‘Natasha, Clarisse and I have an announcement to make.’
How I swallowed that last mouthful, I will never know. Perhaps he was going to say that his contract had ended and that I’d have to go home early. But that’s not something you get dressed up to say, is it?
‘We are engaged,’ said Dad. ‘Clarisse has accepted my offer of marriage.’
‘I’m going to be your step-mum,’ added Clarisse.
They were both looking at me, eyes all wide and expectant.
Seriously? They were expecting me to be happy about this? Or perhaps they were telling me in a public place so I wouldn’t make a scene.
‘When did this happen?’ I asked.
‘On our day out to Gstaad,’ said Dad.
‘It was such a perfect day,’ added Clarisse, smiling at Dad.
They’d got engaged while I was there? What was wrong with them? The world was going mad.
‘I’ve got to go.’ I stood up, scraping my chair, and ran out of the restaurant. I stopped halfway up the hill to throw up in a bin. Note to self: emotional upheaval on a full stomach plus running is not good for me. I leaned on the wall and wiped my mouth.
I didn’t want to be on my own. It wasn’t that late. I texted Pierre but didn’t wait for the reply. I ran up to the apartment, washed my face, grabbed my costume and dashed out again, back down to the lake. Maybe he would be there already. I didn’t know where he lived.
I stopped when I got to the waterfront, which was lit by short lamps along the water’s edge. There were a few people walking along, enjoying the warm summer’s evening. I scanned faces, looking for Pierre’s.
I heard a laugh behind me. I spun round and looked out across the dark lake. Two heads were silhouetted, bobbing in the water. The laugh came from a girl. A high-pitched, flirty laugh.
‘Oh, Pierre, you are funny.’
‘And you are one special girl.’ The heads merged together into one blob.
My head felt like it was going to blow up. That was supposed to be my evening. I was supposed to be the one in the lake. Not her. How could he have done that? He must have asked someone else the minute I said I couldn’t make it.
How could I have been so stupid? Why had I allowed myself to fall for his lines? How naïve was I to have believed him when he said I was special?
Hot tears ran down my face. I hated Pierre. Hated my dad and stupid Clarisse. As I turned from the kissing heads, I spotted two piles of clothes on a low wall. I kicked them off the wall into the water. They drifted silently, blooming out across the surface of the water.
I definitely didn’t want them to see me. I ran back to the apartment block. I leaned on the wall next to the entrance to catch my breath. I couldn’t get the image of their heads pushed together out of my mind. Everywhere I looked, people were in love. Why couldn’t Dad have waited till I wasn’t around? Why did Clarisse have to be here at all? It was supposed to be my summer with Dad, not as a third wheel on their love wagon. Every time I thought about Pierre I felt embarrassed and angry. Stupid Sasha. Falling for the biggest cliché of all time – a handsome waiter on holiday. How could I have ever thought he’d be seriously interested in me?
I had to get out of there. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Dad and Clarisse would get home and be all lovey-dovey on the sofa, and I’d have to spend the rest of the evening in my room. They wouldn’t even notice I wasn’t around.
I knew what I had to do.
I ran up the stairs, two at a time. I would have to be quick. I couldn’t rely on them staying for dessert. I rammed everything into my suitcase, found my passport and rummaged in my emergency supplies from Mum. A credit card. For just in case, she’d said. Grabbing my phone and the charger, I pulled my bag out of my room. I stuck a note to my door. It said:
Sorry for leaving you so suddenly, I had a real bad headache. Don’t disturb me – I’ll be fine in the morning once I’ve slept it off. Sx
That should buy me some time. I wheeled my case out of the flat. As I was locking the door, the lift pinged to say it had arrived at our floor. Quickly I dragged my stuff into the stairwell and flattened myself against the wall. I was breathing hard and my hands were shaking, but I mustn’t be seen, mustn’t be heard.
The lift opened and Dad and Clarisse stepped out. Clarisse was giggling.
‘It’s a shame we couldn’t stay for coffee,’ she said. Yes, they should have done.
‘I just wanted to check that Natasha’s OK.’
‘You worry about her too much. She’s sixteen. Old enough to take care of herself.’
For the first time, I actually agreed with her. I was old enough to take care of myself. I waited till the apartment door closed before heaving my stuff down the stairs. I was going home.
I trundled my case down the road to the train station, bought a ticket to the airport and waited. When the train pulled in ten minutes later, I looked back up the hillside to the apartment block one last time. I could see Dad and Clarisse silhouetted on the balcony. It looked like they were kissing. I turned away. I’d had enough of watching other people kiss.
The airport was quieter than before, and there were very few desks open for check-in. I walked up to the first one I saw and asked how I could buy a ticket to the UK. The woman pointed to a different desk with a tired-looking man. Pulling my case behind me, I went over. In my very best French, I asked if I could buy a ticket.
‘When for?’
‘As soon as possible. I would like to leave tonight.’
‘Ah, there are no more flights today.’
‘What about first thing tomorrow?’ I’d have to spend the night in the airport.
‘There’s not one till 1pm tomorrow.’
‘That’ll do.’
The man looked at me hard. ‘Very well then.’
Within fifteen minutes, I had bought a ticket, been told where to check in from 10.30 the next morning and had loaded myself up with consolation snacks and a coffee. I found a bench in the busiest part of the airport and sat down, tucking my case under my feet. That way if I fell asleep, I’d feel it if someone tried to nick my case.
I sipped my coffee and tried to calm down. My hands hadn’t stopped shaking since I’d left the restaurant. This summer was supposed to be the best, the summer of living without regrets, so why did it feel so rubbish? Here I was, sitting in an airport, alone. I’d run away from my dad. My holiday romance had dropped off a cliff. My friends didn’t know what I was doing. My mum certainly didn’t – she’d have hit the roof. If this was life with no regrets, why couldn’t I tell people how I felt?
The coffee was good. I kept drinking it.
Did I feel embarrassed? I’d decided to come to Geneva for the summer and it had been a nightmare from start to finish. Was I ashamed to tell them I’d made the wrong call? Oh, the irony, I thought, as I sipped more coffee. I would have been better off staying at home for the summer like I’d planned.
I pulled out my phone, deleted Pierre’s number and turned it off.
Finally. Something I wouldn’t regret doing.
Chapter 20
Nell
I’d never seen Cam like that before. She was walking like a zombie, not really listening to what I was saying. I was totally panicking inside. I didn’t want to be the one in charge of getting us home. I was sure to mess it up. When the bus pulled up at our stop, it was chucking it down but I didn’t care. I was just pleased to be there. I pulled Cam along the aisle and down the steps. The rain soaked me instantly.
‘Come on,’ I said to her, ‘let’s get you home.’
I walked her as fast as I could until I got to her house. What was I going to tell her parents? It wasn’t my place to tell and, as much as I lied to my parents, I didn’t really want to start lying to other people’s.
Jackie met us at the door. ‘Oh, come in quickly, you’re both soaked through. Good shopping trip, I see?’
I looked at her, a bit c
onfused. Then I remembered the bags I was carrying.
‘Ah, yes. Very good, thank you.’ I put down Cam’s bags and glanced at her. She was still pale, her pink hair limp and dripping down her neck.
‘I don’t think Cam’s feeling very well,’ I said to Jackie. Cam didn’t say anything. It was like she was still back in Plymouth.
‘Love, are you alright?’ The concern in Jackie’s voice made my stomach stop churning. Cam would be OK with Jackie looking after her.
‘I’d better be going,’ I said.
‘You don’t want to dry off and wait for the rain to stop maybe?’ asked Jackie.
‘No, thanks. My mum will wonder where I am. See you later, Cam.’
Cam slowly turned to me, like she’d only just noticed I was there.
I pulled the front door shut behind me and walked along the road. I was already wet through, and I didn’t mind the rain too much. Especially not in the summer when it wasn’t icy cold.
I wondered what the time was. Because we’d come back earlier than planned, it fitted in with my work hours. No need to add extra lies to say why I was late home.
I pulled my phone out, shielding it from the worst of the rain. That’s odd. I’d missed three calls from Mum. I stopped, my body suddenly cold.
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