Page 24 of Merrily Ever After
‘He moved away for good when you were eighteen. Even before that, he was away as much as he was here,’ Tina muttered, fingering a red cotton calico printed with gingerbread men. ‘So I don’t know why he’d class Bakewell as home.’
Maybe so, but he’d been here when Emily had needed him most and she’d never forget that. The time when Tina hadn’t gone to the doctors despite having terrible stomach pains and had ended up with peritonitis and septicaemia the night before Emily’s first GCSE exam. After watching her mum being driven away to the emergency department, ambulance lights flashing, sirens blaring, Emily had called her dad. There was loud music playing in the background wherever he was, and it had taken a lot of repeating herself to get the message across. But he’d told her to sit tight, and he’d get to her as soon as he could. By the time she woke up the following day and got herself ready to go into school to sit her French exam, there he was in the kitchen making her some toast. He’d driven her to school, reassured her that he’d take care of everything and held her when she cried frightened tears. It wasn’t something Mum liked to talk about and Emily had no intention of bringing it up now. She knew he hadn’t been perfect, but she’d always remember that he’d showed up for her when it mattered. And that was why she was showing up for him now.
‘I don’t know either,’ Emily replied diplomatically, ‘but he’s here and if I don’t move him into a home, the only other solution is that I find somewhere for me and Dadto live together.’ And bang would go her chances of ever having a boyfriend again, she thought glumly.
‘Caring for your errant father at thirty-five?’ Her mother looked appalled. ‘That’s too much of a sacrifice. It was bad enough when you gave up that lovely job you had.’
Emily sighed; this was well-trodden ground, and she couldn’t defend it, because Tina was right. ‘My job at the school is fine. Good even.’
The stallholder held out a paper bag and Tina counted out the exact money in cash, then stowed her purchases away. The two women continued past the next stalls.
‘Ray doesn’t deserve you,’ said Tina hotly. ‘Swanning back here, expecting you to be an unpaid nursemaid.’
‘He’s not expecting anything of the sort,’ Emily replied. ‘And he’s very grateful.’
Tina harrumphed. ‘He’s not expecting you to pay for it, I hope?’
‘No, don’t worry about that.’ Social services had been really helpful in this department, as had Gail. It seemed almost certain that her dad would receive funding for his care.
‘That’s something, I suppose,’ her mum muttered.
Emily couldn’t blame her for her lack of sympathy. Ray had never been a fixed presence in their life. When she was growing up, he would be there one day, happy and settled, and the next he would be off, telling them he had a job somewhere, a chance to make some real money. If it worked out, then she and Tina could join him, he’d say. But that had never happened.
‘Almonds!’ Tina exclaimed, pointing to a stall called Nell’s Nuts. ‘I’ll get some for the top of the Christmas cake.’
There was always a Dundee cake at Christmas, decorated with whole almonds because Ian didn’t like icing. Which was a shame, because marzipan was Emily’s favourite bit.
There were two women about her age behind the counter of Nell’s Nuts. One was holding her phone and both were absorbed in whatever was on the screen, bent towards each other, their woolly hats touching. They were obviously good friends and Emily felt a pang of longing for Izzy.
‘He thinks he’s managing most of the time,’ Emily said, casting her eye over the array of dried fruits and nuts. Weren’t some nuts good for the brain? She was sure she’d read it somewhere. Maybe she’d get some too. ‘And when he’s not … confused, he hates being a burden.’
‘You are an angel, you know that.’ Tina sighed and gave her a look so loaded with love, that it made Emily’s heart melt. Emily could see she was torn. She and Ian had been together for over a decade and seemed happy enough. But once, after a couple of sherries, Tina had confided, in a rare conversation, that she had been besotted with Ray and that he had broken her heart not once but several times.
‘Mum, I owe everything to you,’ Emily said fondly. ‘You did a great job of bringing me up virtually by yourself. And, in a way, I’ve got Dad to thank for the fact you and I have such a close relationship. You were a great mum; all my friends wanted an invitation after school for your home-made pizza and they were jealous of the dresses you made for my dolls.’
‘Iwasa great mum?’ Tina teased.
Emily gave her a hug. ‘You still are. You’ve brought me up to be a kind person and do the right thing. I want to do the right thing by Dad, but I need your help.’
In front of her, behind the counter of the nut stall, Emily became aware of a lull in the two women’s conversation. She glanced up to see them watching her and her mum.
‘Excuse us for overhearing,’ said a woman with big green eyes and wisps of blonde hair escaping from her woolly hat. ‘But that’s such a sweet thing to say about your mum.’
‘Oh goodness.’ Tina blushed. ‘She’s a good girl. I couldn’t wish for a lovelier daughter.’
Emily put an arm around her mum’s waist. ‘Back atcha, Mum.’
‘You two obviously have a good relationship.’ The other woman, wearing an apron with Nell’s Nut’s emblazoned across the front, flicked her thick copper plait over her shoulder. ‘Anything my mum says to me comes with a side order of constructive criticism.’
‘I was just thinking the same about your relationship.’ Emily smiled at the two women. ‘My best friend moved to Jersey and girlie chats aren’t the same over FaceTime.’
The blonde woman gave her a sympathetic look. ‘I can imagine. Don’t get any ideas about moving away, Nell, unless you plan on taking me with you.’
‘Does that mean I get to come on the honeymoon with you?’ her friend replied, waggling her eyebrows, making the other one laugh.
Tina tutted. ‘That’s another thing your father has put the kibosh on: holidays or doing anything that matters. When was the last time you saw Izzy?’
Emily nodded towards the women and grinned. ‘Don’t let’s start bickering, Mum, not after we made such a good impression.’
