Page 48 of Merrily Ever After
‘I wasn’t there enough for you, love,’ he said finally, heaving a sigh. ‘Not when you needed me.’
‘You were!’ she protested, putting an arm around his bony shoulders. ‘Don’t be hard on yourself, Dad.’
He shook his head. ‘You girls were the best things in my life. And that was my problem. Whenever anything good came along, I’d panic and run. Like I had a self-destruct button built in. I was always worried I’d mess up, so I’d leave while things were still good. Jobs, friends, even family. It all amounted to the same thing, I suppose – ruining everything. Except at least by disappearing, I didn’t have to see the disappointment in other people’s faces.’ He looked at Emily with troubled eyes. ‘I was a coward.’
Emily swallowed, not quite knowing how to answer. What good would it do now to question or contradict? It was too late to change the past. ‘You did your best,’ she murmured, touching her cheek to his shoulder.
‘My father was the one that started it,’ he continued, his voice so faint that she had to concentrate to hear him. ‘He was a cold fish, smart as a whip and expected nothing less than one hundred per cent from himself and everyone around him. I could never live up to those standards. No point trying. And Mother … well, she kept me fed and watered, but there was no softness to her. Didn’t understand me.’
Emily held her breath, not wanting to interrupt him. This was the most he’d ever told her about her paternal grandparents.
Ray shook his head sadly. ‘That should have made me a better dad. But I failed you.’
‘You didn’t fail me,’ she promised. The look on his face was breaking her heart. ‘We’re OK, aren’t we? Still here to tell the tale.’
To her horror, tears started to drip down his cheeks. She fetched some tissue paper from the bathroom and handed it to him.
‘Tell me about this little cherub then,’ she said, determined to cheer him up. ‘What was I like as a girl?’
‘Oh, you were a happy little thing.’ He smiled at the photograph, and blew his nose. ‘Always dancing around the flat, singing to the radio. And you liked painting, the brighter the better.’
She laughed and held up the sleeve of her vivid purple jumper. ‘I haven’t changed much. It was a house though, Dad, not a flat.’
‘Was it?’ He looked confused. ‘Oh well, whatever, you liked to dance. And I’d read to you sometimes before you went to sleep.’
She smiled at him. ‘I love to hear your stories. Have you got any more pictures in the tin?’
‘No,’ he said gruffly, hugging it to him as if worried she was about to steal it.
‘Tomato soup and toast for Mr Meadows?’ came a voice from the door. It was Peter, who she’d met on Saturday. He came in carrying a tray with Ray’s order.
‘About bloody time,’ Ray muttered, getting to his feet and sitting at the table. ‘A man’d starve before he got his breakfast in here.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said Peter, grinning at Emily.
‘What Dad means is thanks very much,’ she replied, returning his smile.
Ray was halfway through his soup before Peter had even left the room. Emily felt a pang of protectiveness towards him and tucked a napkin into the neck of his jumper.
‘I’m going now, Dad. But can I borrow this photograph? I’d like to make a copy.’
He looked at her sharply and she could almost see his brain mulling it over.
‘I’ll bring it back,’ she promised.
‘If you must.’ He bit into his toast, drawing the conversation to a halt.
She put it carefully into the inside pocket of her bag to keep it flat and kissed the top of his head. ‘See you soon.’
‘Be good,’ he said distractedly.
As if she was twelve years old. She laughed softly to herself as she left and almost ran into Will in the corridor.
‘Woah!’ He skidded to a halt. ‘Sorry.’
‘My fault.’ She smiled, pleased to see him. ‘Rushing to get off.’
‘Are you leaving already?’ His face fell. His clothes were smarter than the ones he’d been wearing on Saturday. Still jeans, but a navy shirt which made his eyes seem even bluer. He wore a lanyard around his neck.
