Page 58 of Snow Going Back

‘What else don’t I know that you helped me with?’ Kate asked suspiciously.

‘Quite a lot, actually,’ he replied. ‘But you know, I felt trulysadwhen that rebellious streak of yours got buried. I’d always felt it was what kept you true to yourself, to what made you happy.’ He gestured to the trees. ‘That’swhy I helped you with these. No, they didn’t fit in with your mother’s idea of a perfect garden. Or mine, actually. But it wasyouridea of perfect. It was the garden thatyouwanted. Andthat’swhat I wanted to fight for.’

Kate didn’t reply, suddenly suspicious that they were no longer talking about trees or gardening at all.

Henry met her gaze. ‘You know, I go along with your mother most of the time because it’seasier, and because most of the time, I really couldn’t care less about the things that mean a lot to her. So the way we workworks. For both of us.’ He moved his gaze over to the rockery between the trees. ‘But I want you to know that I willalwaysfight for the girl who planted these trees. You’re my daughter. I will always support you inanydecision you make for your own happiness. No matter what that is or what your mother, or anyoneelse, thinks of it.’

Kate felt a lump of emotion rise to her throat. ‘Thanks, Dad,’ she said softly. ‘That means a lot.’ She reached out and squeezed his hand, wanting to reassure him. ‘You know I’m OK though, don’t you? Because I am.’

Henry patted her hand with a smile. ‘You’ll always be OK, Kate. You’re too clever not to be.’

She smiled and gave him a sideways nudge. ‘Careful – all these compliments are going to start going to my head.’

‘That’s OK,’ Henry replied. ‘If you gettoobig for your boots, I’ll just bring you back down a peg by telling you you’re starting to sound like your mother.’

Kate gasped and recoiled.

‘You’re not really,’ he told her, standing up. ‘Come on. She should be wrapping up about now, and we should probably save Lance.’

‘True.’ Kate followed him up the garden, tucking her arm into his as they walked. ‘You dolikeLance, don’t you, Dad?’

‘Of course,’ he replied, sounding surprised. ‘Why do you ask?’

Kate glanced at him. ‘Just checking.’

‘He’s a nice guy.’

‘He is,’ Kate agreed.

‘Successful, too,’ Henry added.

‘Yep.’ Kate nodded.

‘Your mother tells me he’s handsome, but I couldn’t comment personally. Never been much into blondes myself,’ he joked.

Kate grinned. ‘Well, yes, he is,’ she confirmed. ‘Nice, successful, tall, blonde and handsome, and good at handling Mum. Looking at the big picture, he ticks every box,’ she joked back.

But this time Henry frowned.

‘And whatisthat, to you?’ he asked her.

‘What’s what?’ Kate asked, confused.

‘The big picture,’ he replied.

Kate gave him an odd look. ‘You know. The picture of the future, oflife, I guess.’

‘Hmm.’ Henry frowned. ‘I’ve always hated that phrase.The big picture. It doesn’t actually exist, you know. That a single snapshot could somehow encompass all the layers and nuancesof a life in one single frame – it’s a ridiculous concept. A life that hasn’t even been lived yet.’ He shook his head. ‘Life is too unpredictable. It very rarely goes to plan, so how could anyone paint a reliable picture ahead of time?’

They reached the house, and Henry stamped the leaves and mud off his shoes on the outside mat. ‘Someone once told me, many years ago, that – studies and career paths aside, which do need an element of planning – the best thing you can do is live in the moment. Pick a direction and make sure the little things along the way make you happy. Because one day, you’ll realisethe big picturewas never a goal.’ He studied her face with a warm smile. ‘It’s something that you look back on, made up of all the little moments in life strung together. And if you’relucky, like I am, you look back and realise you made one hell of a masterpiece along the way. One you’re incredibly proud of every day.’

Realising he meant her, Kate felt her eyes mist over, and she leaned her head sideways onto him as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Henry squeezed her warmly, then gently released her.

‘Thanks, Dad,’ she said quietly.

He nodded.

The door in front of them suddenly flew open, and Eleanor stared at them expectantly. ‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Are you coming in, or are you going to just stand out there on the doorstep all day? I didn’t cook this chicken forfun, you know.’

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