Page 12 of Teacakes & Tangos
‘Love you, too, Dad,’ I called back in surprise.
It wasn’t something we did as a rule, saying ‘Love you.’ But ever since our emotional chat following the sale of Mum’s car, we’d been closer than ever.
I waved him off and retreated inside.
It felt odd rattling around the house on my own. I tried to relax and watch TV, but once it got past ten o’clock, I had one ear on constant alert to hear the sound of a car engine and a key in the lock. It was after midnight and I was in bed by the time Dad arrived back.
‘What time do you call this?’ I shouted cheerily down the stairs, having gone out onto the upstairs landing to greet him.
There was no reply, so I tied my dressing gown belt and went downstairs.
Dad was slouched at the kitchen table, his head in his hands.
‘Dad?’
He looked up and I could tell from his slightly crossed, bloodshot eyes that he was having a hard job focusing on me.
‘Oh gosh, you’re actually drunk.’ I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my dad the worse for drink and I was finding it quite amusing.
‘No, I’m not,’ he insisted amiably, scraping back his chair and getting to his feet, staggering a little. ‘Need a coffee.’
The chair fell over and he turned slowly and looked at it, bemused.
I chuckled. ‘Sit down, Dad. I’ll make the coffee.’ I set the chair upright and he sank back down on it. ‘I guess it was a good night, then?’ I checked out of the window for his car but he’d obviously left it in Guildford and taken a taxi.
‘Yes, good night,’ he mumbled, leaning over the table, his head resting on his arms again. ‘Good night.’
I abandoned the kettle and gently suggested he might want to forget the coffee, drink some water and then go up to bed. He agreed and – smiling to myself – I helped him upstairs to make sure he didn’t stumble or end up in the wrong room. (I seriously doubted he would have known his own name, the state he was in!)
The following day he had a humdinger of a hangover, although when I asked him about how the night had gone, he seemed oddly reluctant to talk about it – but I assumed that was temporary because of how ill he was feeling.
But the next afternoon, as he was getting ready to go out for garden supplies, I asked about ‘the boys’ – his old mates – and he couldn’t seem to remember what they’d been talking about. I was puzzled. It wasn’t like Dad to be so weirdly evasive. He was also wearing a new black jacket, instead of his usual dark green zip-up, which seemed suspicious in itself.
And that’s when I started to wonder.
‘Dad, did you meet someone the other night? A woman, I mean?’ I smiled at him as I flicked on the kettle. It was obvious now that I thought about it. Ofcoursehe wouldn’t want to talk to me about it if he’d met someone at the pub!
‘What?’ He looked at me in confusion as he snatched up his car keys.
‘You can tell me, you know,’ I murmured. ‘You keep tellingmeI should start dating again. But it’s high time you did the same. Mum would have wanted you to – and so do I.’
He sighed and looked away, as if he was weighing up whether or not to explain.
‘It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me,’ I said at last.
‘No, I do, Anika,’ he said, looking directly into my eyes. ‘You’re right, love. I... well, I did meet someone at the pub.’
‘It isn’t Janet, is it?’ Janet had been Mum’s best friend. She’d recently been widowed herself and I’d joked a few times to Dad that she was lovely and why didn’t he take her out for a drink?
He looked shocked. ‘What? No! I told you before, Anika. Janet’s great but it wouldn’t feel right. What with her being your mum’s best friend.’ He shook his head. ‘It just wouldn’t.’
‘So it’s someone you just met the other night, when you were out with the guys? At the pub?’
‘Yup.’ He turned away, checking distractedly in his pockets for something.
‘You don’t have to feel awkward about it, you know. I think it’s great.’
He nodded vaguely as I followed him to the front door. I thought he was going to stride straight out to the car. But instead, he paused and turned. ‘That’s where I’m going now, actually,’ he said. ‘To meet her.’
