by Kelly Hunter
He wasn’t about to start. ‘When I first went to London I used to get up before dawn and stare out the window overlooking that little corner of Trafalgar Square and wait for the pigeon lady to arrive. It reminded me of feeding the sheep at home. She never missed a day until the day she did.’ Hadn’t even known who she was, only that she’d kept him company for years and reminded him of a simpler life than the one he’d hungered for. ‘I never saw her again.’
‘But do you look for her still?’
‘Every damn day,’ he murmured. ‘City living’s not for everyone. Don’t beat yourself up.’
‘But you like it.’
‘Yet here I am reassessing my lifestyle options. Maybe I like London enough to visit once in a while. Maybe I want Rowan to know the pleasures of farm life.’
‘Henry, you couldn’t wait to get gone.’
For more than one reason. He gave her the simpler one. ‘I had to know what was out there. And now I do and I’m seriously considering coming back to take care of the people who once took care of me.’
‘For how long?’ Suspicion laced her voice. That and an underlying raggedy edge of something he couldn’t place.
‘I don’t know. But thank you, again, for all you’ve done on my behalf these past few days.’
‘You’re welcome.’ She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. ‘I still can’t accept this car in return.’
‘You can.’ It helped that she seemed too tired to argue with him. ‘You will.’
*
For all that Henry had planned for Tilly to have an apartment for herself so she could shower and rest after her flight, the fact that she’d so readily left him and Joe with no instructions whatsoever and a wide-awake baby to get to know still managed to take him by surprise.
He didn’t know what to do, but then neither had she and she’d managed well enough.
Was he supposed to look at the child and instantly recognise part of himself in her? Because that hadn’t happened yet.
If he picked her up would he bond with her then? Feel overwhelming fatherly love rather than this vague terror that such a tiny, vulnerable little human was now his responsibility?
Maybe if he’d seen her being born … Nope, no, don’t go there. That wouldn’t have helped do anything but make him incredibly grateful he wasn’t a woman. And he was already grateful enough about that, thanks.
It was time to pick this tiny little being up before he proved his grandfather right and turned out to be utterly inept at the fatherhood thing.
One hand to support her head and neck and his other hand beneath her little body and lift.
See?
And then just bring her closer so she doesn’t look as if he was offering her up as a sacrifice.
‘Smells like she needs a nappy change,’ his grandfather said with no little amusement, and given it was the first time the older man had smiled in days, Henry could hardly begrudge him the moment.
‘Yep.’
‘You going to do it?’
‘Working my way up to it, old man.’ His grandfather’s laughter was its own reward. ‘Can’t rush these things.’
Baby Rowan Aurelia Church got a new nappy eventually.
And then he picked her up again and settled her in the crook of his arm and looked around for something to do. ‘So this is a door.’ He spelled the word aloud and his grandfather snorted. ‘And apparently I’m now a comedian. No, I didn’t see that one coming either. So my name’s Henry. Henry Church and you’ll curse me for that last name before we’re through, especially once you start school.’
‘Which won’t be next week, so don’t worry about it for now,’ offered the other man wryly as he came over for a closer look at the baby in Henry’s arms. ‘She doesn’t look like a Church.’
‘No.’
‘Maybe she takes after her mother?’
Again, ‘No.’
‘Or her family?’ offered Joe.
‘I wouldn’t know. Neither would Amanda if she were still around to ask. She was left at a train station in Ireland at three years old and no one ever came forward to claim her. They gave her an Irish identity. She looked the part. Dark hair, medium to olive complexion, light-coloured eyes.’ He couldn’t remember her eye colour exactly. They weren’t grey like Tilly’s. ‘Church or not, this baby has nowhere else to go.’
What a mess. Charging him with the raising of a child, any child, and thinking he’d do a decent job. When had he ever given Amanda enough information about himself to make that call? ‘I don’t know how to do this.’
‘No one ever does, at the start. You’ll learn.’
‘I’ll fail.’
‘I doubt it.’
You failed, old man. The thought stole in, cruel and unspoken, but it had always been between them. You’re a good man, but you failed your daughter. She broke on your watch. Cut down by her mother’s vicious tongue and your studied silence, and she couldn’t get away fast enough. Same as me. Is that what happened? Is that what you’ll never say whenever I ask?
‘Why did my mother leave Wirralong at fifteen, with barely a cent to her name?’ he asked again, bald and blunt, with a baby in his arms that he’d been asked to commit to for a lifetime. No throwing her out if she wasn’t shaping up the way he wanted, no handing the job off to someone else. ‘Why did she never, ever speak of you, in particular, without longing and sadness?’
His grandfather’s face was a study in pain and regret, and Henry hated himself for causing it, but he needed to know. Surely he had a right to the truth so he didn’t make the same mistakes?
‘She and Beth didn’t get along.’
‘She has a name. I’ve never heard you say it.’ Not once.
So much silence between them. Years of it, during which he’d never uttered his mother’s name either, internalising this man’s shame and making it his too. Maybe it was time that stopped. ‘Her name was Ruth.’
*
Tilly woke slowly, roused by her stomach and the growling noises it was making. She’d showered as soon as she reached the hotel room, grateful to be back on home soil with her luggage right beside her, and then she lay down for a quick nap. She reached for her phone now to check the time. A quick nap that had lasted half the day, apparently. Probably not the best move she could have made, but it was done now, and she would deal with it.
She’d left Rowan with Henry and his grandfather in the apartment right next door, and the fact that she hadn’t been woken by a screaming baby seemed like good news. Checking in with them seemed like the obvious thing to do. Given all that had transpired, there was no need to feel tense as she stood in the grey apartment hallway feeling uncharacteristically nervous in her pretty pale blue cotton dress, the fancy blue scarf her mother had gifted her, and a pair of blue shoes with a two-inch heel that she’d purchased from a little boutique in Soho.
She figured she’d go for a walk, find somewhere to eat, but would check in with next door before she did so, just in case they wanted her to bring them back some takeaway dinner.
There was also the slight chance she wanted to see how Rowan was faring. And find out how Bethany was too. And fuss over Joe and drink in the sight of Henry, which was what she tended to do whenever she got within range of him.
She should have been expecting the sight of Rowan in Henry’s arms as he opened the door to her. She should have girded her loins and steeled her resolve to not lust after the man, but there was something about him standing there with the sleeves of his blue chambray shirt rolled to his forearms and a sleeping baby nestled into his shoulder that tugged at her soul.
‘If you wake her I will unravel,’ he murmured with just enough hint of panic in his voice to make her grin. She’d been there. Done that. And lived to tell the tale.
‘I’m heading out to find something to eat. Want me to bring you anything back?’
He stepped back, motioned her in, and she walked through the narrow entrance hall and saw Joe Church already tucking in to takeaway
pizza. ‘I won’t tell Henry about my cholesterol problem if you don’t,’ Joe said by way of greeting.
The pizza looked like a good one, loaded with cheese and toppings and fragrant with the smell of garlic and basil. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it. How’s Beth?’
‘They tell me come morning she’ll be out of intensive care.’
‘They also told him to go home and get some sleep,’ offered Henry. ‘Pizza and beer seemed like a good way to make that happen and to hell with cholesterol.’
It was such a perfectly guy thing to do.
Henry inclined his head towards the table. ‘Want to join us? There’s plenty here.’
‘Well I would. Never let it be said that carbs, oil, pepperoni and cheese isn’t an excellent way to go, but I’ve my heart set on eating at this little Japanese restaurant not far from here and seeing as I’ll be heading off in the morning, tonight’s the night.’
‘You’re leaving so soon?’ asked Joe. ‘Why? The room’s paid for.’ He turned to Henry. ‘Isn’t it?’
Henry nodded, very, very carefully and wooed her without realising he did so when he began gently shifting his weight from one foot to the other in a gentle swaying motion. ‘You could pretend Melbourne is a holiday destination and go exploring. I hear they have some good rooftop bars here. You might meet a chimney sweep who’ll take you dancing.’
‘In these shoes? I can barely walk in them.’
‘You look very nice, Matilda.’ Since when did Henry pay her compliments? Or call her Matilda …
‘You should put the baby down, Henry, and take Tilly to dinner,’ said Joe. ‘I can hold the fort here. Not as if I haven’t dealt with a baby before.’
A long silence followed, in which it seemed as if plenty was being said that Tilly couldn’t hear.
‘I’d like to help.’ Careful words from Joe. ‘Your mother was a fussy baby. I’ve had a lot of practice.’
‘My mother.’ Henry’s voice was harder than Tilly had ever heard it.
‘Ruth,’ Joe offered quietly, and silence descended again.
And then Joe seemed to rally, his shoulders squaring and his eyes steady on his grandson. ‘Young Rowan’s fed, clean, and sleepy. She’ll settle here with me if you want to go out.’
She was settled now. Like a barnacle against Henry’s generously muscled chest.
‘Just so you all know, I don’t need company on my exciting culinary adventure,’ Tilly offered, trying and failing to figure out what was causing the friction between the two men. ‘Even if I wouldn’t say no to it.’ There. Her two cents were also in the ring now.
Henry looked torn.
‘Bring her along,’ she added. Why not?
Torn, hot and downright edible. Henry Church. Éclair.
‘No, I—’ He looked to his grandfather. ‘Thank you. Call if you want me back.’
Five minutes and a change of shirt for Henry later they strode along a narrow laneway, with Tilly trying, and failing, to match Henry’s long strides. ‘I’ll meet you there,’ she yelled from several paces behind; he faltered and turned in her direction, hands in his pockets and his face a picture of consternation.
‘Sorry. Really. I was miles away.’
Not exactly a compliment. ‘Okay, so here’s the deal. I know this isn’t a date, but if you’re not going to be present, just keep walking. I get to enjoy my meal without worrying that I’m boring you stupid, and you get to take a break from fathering duties. Everyone wins.’
‘I didn’t mean to ignore you.’
‘You have a lot on your mind. I can understand that.’ There was no way to delicately ask what she wanted to know. ‘Were you in love with Rowan’s mother?’ Was he grieving too?
He seemed startled by her question and then his mouth twisted into a grim smile. ‘No. I worked with her. Respected her. We got together once, that was all. Then she took a job elsewhere and we lost touch.’
There was a lot going on in that there answer. Tilly latched on to the easiest reply she could think of. ‘So, she was smart. Like you.’
‘Define smart. Because the way I see it, waiting until after she was dead before revealing that I had a daughter was utterly imbecilic.’
‘You’re speaking ill of the dead.’
‘I’m thinking ill of the dead. What does it matter? She’s dead. And she took whatever meagre reasons she had for doing what she did with her. Am I really so intimidating that she couldn’t have come to me beforehand?’
‘You can be.’ She’d started this line of questioning, Tilly reminded herself sternly. She would see it through. Kissing all thoughts of a pleasant meal aside, she gave him her truth. ‘You’re very driven. Ambitious.’ You leave people behind without a backwards glance was what she wanted to say, but this wasn’t about her. ‘Amanda may have hoped her cancer would spare her and that you’d never need to know.’
‘And you think that’s acceptable? For a woman to simply decide to cut a father out of a child’s life from birth? Because it’s not.’
‘You’re looking at it—’
‘How? As a child who never knew who his father was? As a man who is perfectly willing and able to shoulder his responsibilities, assuming he knows about them?’
‘I’m not arguing with you.’ She truly wasn’t. ‘It’s just … did you ever reach out to your colleague after that one night together? You might have asked her how the new job was going, or said, hey let’s keep in touch. She may have been waiting for a cue from you that never came.’
‘Oh, now it’s my fault.’
They reached a set of traffic lights and a stop walking sign. ‘Henry, you are spoiling for a fight, and I understand your turmoil and anger. I do. But I refuse to be the stand-in for all the women who’ve ever wronged you. The restaurant I’m going to is that way.’ She pointed left. ‘You don’t have to join me. There’s a gin bar to your right, according to the map on my phone, and I’m pretty sure they’ll have whisky too. I can devour sashimi and edamame beans and you can drown your sorrows. Everyone’s a winner.’
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers and looked away. She stood and waited for his decision, because she really did want to be there for him, talk with him, give him some way to air his emotions without doing damage.
‘It’s a messy situation, I know,’ she murmured as the lights changed colour and the walk signal appeared.
‘I’m being an ass.’
He would get no argument from her.
‘I’m not an easy man.’
Again, no argument, but her face might have spoken for her.
‘Don’t suppose I could buy you a drink before you walk away?’
‘You’re lucky I like gin,’ she told him. ‘And yes, let’s do that. I don’t want to be at odds with you. Heaven knows it wouldn’t kill me to acknowledge that your world has just been upended. For all sorts of reasons, none of them planned. Just … don’t make me wear the failings of others. I have plenty of my own.’
He shook his head, as if she didn’t. Held her gaze with a quiet intensity that reminded her of the way he would focus on her during their long walks from the farm gate to her place, after which he would cut across country another kilometre or so to get to his place. Those times when he listened, focused all his attention on her, and she’d blossomed.
‘I can’t see them,’ he offered gruffly. ‘Your flaws. Could be I’m trying to push some onto you.’
‘But why?’
‘So I don’t fall.’
He wasn’t an easy man to understand. But she’d always thought him worth the effort.
The gin bar was a cacophony of dark corners, dim lighting and mismatched antique velvet seating, but the selection of spirits behind the bar was truly enormous, and the barman knew his stuff. They sat at the bar, because this wasn’t a date and those comfy, intimate-looking sofa seats weren’t for the likes of them. She looked at the drink in front of her and then at the man whose socks she’d been wearing for the past ten days. Socks so precisely folded and c
olour coordinated that she’d never quite been able to put them back the way she’d found them, no matter how hard she tried.
‘I’m sorry you didn’t know your father,’ she began, with the dim lights for protection. ‘I’m sorry you had to learn about your daughter in this way. I do think it’s kind of lovely that you have one.’ She couldn’t look at him when she said this, in case she read him all wrong and he didn’t want her thoughts or advice or anything else she had to offer. ‘My father’s the wisest man I know. Never used to call me Matilda when I’d done something wrong. Or silly for that matter. He’d say, Tilly, if you can’t fix what’s wrong, move on. Because there’s a whole new day just waiting for you, and in it you’ll do or see something wonderful. And maybe that’s too simplistic for you, I don’t know. But the way I see it, every time you see something wonderful from now on you’ll have a child standing next to you who might be seeing it for the very first time, and I think that’s going to be pretty amazing. So here’s to being a father and making the most of it. Congratulations?’
She’d tried so hard to make that last word sound like a definite rather than a question, but she didn’t quite manage to pull it off.
And then he shook his head, right before leaning across and brushing warm lips against her cheek. ‘Thank you, Matilda.’ He picked up his glass of Scotland’s finest and drank the lot. ‘Still not seeing those flaws.’
They went to dinner together and settled into conversation that didn’t tax either of them. No exploration of Henry’s uncertain future. No analysis of why she hadn’t wholeheartedly embraced her London adventure. The food was good. The table linens sublime. Which reminded her … ‘Those bed sheets on your spare bed, where did you get them?’ She hadn’t been able to find a brand name but she very definitely wanted them on her bed at home.
