Page 34 of Merrily Ever After
‘I see.’ Emily cleared her throat; that was an image she’d struggle to erase. ‘Well, as long as he didn’t bother you.’
‘My friends were quite envious when a tall handsome man moved in below me,’ Julia continued, fingering her necklace girlishly. ‘And I must admit I had thought at one time that he and I … Well, too late for that now.’
Emily squeezed Julia’s arm. ‘I know he’s very fond of you in his way.’
Julia smiled sadly. ‘At first I thought he was being enigmatic and mysterious, but then I realised he was being vague because he couldn’t remember things. Never mind.’ She clapped her hands together as if bringing that chapter to a close. ‘I’ll missing him banging around down here. And no rush to clear his things. I won’t be advertising for a new tenant until the new year.’
‘Thank you.’ Emily felt a wave of relief. That meant she could leave the clearing of the flat until the school Christmas holidays. ‘You haven’t seen a red and black tin, have you?’ she asked.
Julia nodded. ‘Just now as it happens. I wasn’t expecting you back today and came for a little look around to check the heating was off and so on. I found the tin inside the boiler cupboard and thought it might be important.’
So much for it having been always kept in his wardrobe.
‘It is important apparently,’ said Emily. ‘Thank you, I probably wouldn’t have even looked in there.’
‘Full of memories, I’d guess. I’ve put it in the kitchen.’
Emily followed her inside, finding a battered old Scottish shortbread tin on the kitchen table. So, this was it, she marvelled, the one thing that her dad had wanted with him. She shook her head and smiled.
‘You’ve been such a help,’ she said, tucking the tin under her arm. ‘In so many ways. Thank you, Julia.’
The two women hugged, and Emily locked the door as they left.
‘There’s a lovely photo of you and Ray in there,’ Julia said, nodding towards the tin, and then turned crimson. ‘I wasn’t snooping. The lid fell off.’
‘Of course you weren’t,’ said Emily, keen to get away and look for herself. She had hardly got any photos of the two of them. ‘Goodbye.’
Once in the car, she sat the tin on her knee, desperate to look inside. Did she have the right to go through her dad’s personal items or was it an invasion of his privacy? She was sure her dad would show her the contents of the tin as soon as she took it to Springwood House anyway. But … she drummed her fingers on the lid indecisively … surely looking at a photograph of herself and her dad wouldn’t be wrong, would it, providing she didn’t look at anything else?
It wouldn’t, she decided, prising open the tin, especially as Julia had already had a look.
The lid was very stiff, which rather contradicted Julia’s claims. However, the photograph Julia mentioned was still on the top of the rest of the contents. She didn’t recognise the setting, but it had obviously been taken atChristmastime: there was a little tree in the background covered in fairy lights and tinsel which caught the light.
The man in the photograph was unmistakably her dad. And there was Emily, no more than a baby, being held in his arms. She stared at it, taking in the details, her fuzz of blonde hair, her little red dress and white tights. And Ray, slim and wiry with dark blonde hair, wearing jeans, as he always did, and a checked shirt. It was such a happy photograph, he was grinning at her, and she was laughing at him, reaching towards his face with chubby fingers. It was lovely to see him so healthy and full of life. The contrast between Ray now and then was hard to look at and she felt a lump begin to form in her throat. But she did look, because she had so few memories of Christmas spent as a family, and even fewer photographs of her with her dad. She’d treasure this one, she’d make a copy for herself and, if he wanted her to, she could put the original in a frame in his room.
She set off to Springwood House for the second time that day, her heart full of joy. There was no doubt from this picture that her dad loved her. Loved her enough to hold onto this old photograph all these years. He might be unreliable, and he might not be able to express himself in words, but this was proof that she mattered to him, and she didn’t think she’d ever felt as close to him in her life.
Chapter Twelve
Emily
It was early afternoon when Emily made it back to Springwood House with Ray’s shortbread tin. Already, the winter sky had started to darken, and every window glowed with light. She buzzed the door and the young woman behind the reception desk let her in.
‘You’ll be popular,’ she said, nodding to the tin. She had dark shiny hair pinned up into a bun and big hoop earrings. ‘Biscuits are hard currency around here.’
‘It’s empty, I’m afraid.’ Emily shook it to demonstrate. ‘Well, empty of shortbread anyway. Is lunch over, do you know?’
‘Peckish, are we?’ the receptionist teased. ‘Mind you, the food is good here; the staff all fight for leftovers when fish pie is on the menu. And yes, lunch is over. Who are you looking for?’
‘Ray Meadows. I’m his daughter, Emily, he moved in today.’
‘I’m Kylie,’ she said, pointing to the name badge on her blouse. ‘I’ve met Ray, he got a bit lost, bless him. He came to reception, carrying a Fleetwood Mac album.’
‘That sounds like him.’ Emily smiled, pleased that he’d recovered enough from mislaying the tin to go exploring. ‘He’s got more records than clothes. Unlike me, who’s got more clothes than anything else.’
Kylie looked approvingly at Emily’s dungarees which she’d had for so long that they’d come back in style again. ‘I knew it: you work in fashion, don’t you? Your outfit is so cool.’
‘Hardly, I’m a school secretary,’ Emily replied, flattered. ‘Collecting clothes is a hobby, that’s all.’
