‘I had no idea.’
‘Of course you didn’t. And that’s the way we wanted it to stay.’
I stayed for another hour or so, talking more about their marriage falling apart, Dad’s cancer diagnosis and how Sammie was getting on. As a chill fell and Mum suggested we move indoors, I took that as my cue to head back to Hedgehog Hollow.
We carried the empty glasses and the jug into the kitchen and I gave Mum a hug. ‘Thanks for sharing all of that with me. I know it can’t have been easy.’
‘Don’t worry about me. Any hurt or rawness has already been dealt with as part of my counselling training. It was hard when it first came out but so much started to make sense including things I’d never even articulated in my own mind, like my resentment at your dad for having his dream career and me not having one.’
‘He surprises me about that. I didn’t have him pinned down as a chauvinist.’
She grabbed my arm. ‘Oh, Josh, he isn’t. Please don’t think that for one moment. My career choice from a very young age was that I wanted to be a mum and I don’t regret a single moment of being a full-time mum to you. Your dad would have supported me in any career I chose but he interpreted my indecision about what to do as a sign that I didn’t want to work instead of what it really was – me needing direction on what path to take. It was a breakdown in communication. One of many.’
I drove back to Hedgehog Hollow, my mind swimming with new information. How had I lived with them for all those years with no idea there was anything wrong? Yet now that I knew, the signs had been there. Family time as a three had become pairs time instead or a boys-only trip with Lewis and Danny but they’d said it was because Dad was often on call or Mum had to work weekends in the shop. It was plausible – factual, even. But it wasn’t the truth. The truth was that they’d grown apart and either nobody had wanted to call time on the marriage or neither of them felt it was broken beyond repair.
For the first time ever, I could see why Dad had let Beth in. I didn’t like it and I certainly didn’t condone it but I felt I now had an inkling of understanding as to how it had happened. A little more of that red mist of anger evaporated.
35
Josh
If I was a good son, I’d have driven straight over to see Dad, hugged him and forgiven him. Clearly I wasn’t a good son. After eighteen months, I couldn’t just flick a switch and stop being angry. I couldn’t erase those memories of finding Mum in my old bedroom at death’s door. I needed to get my head together before I saw him again to avoid an altercation like in the hospital.
My commitments to the practice, the hedgehogs and Sammie didn’t suddenly disappear because Dad was ill. Sammie was adamant that she was feeling herself again but I didn’t want to risk a relapse so Jonathan and I organised a rota with some of the team to look after the hoglets overnight. As expected, Sammie initially objected but then admitted that a week of undisturbed sleep would be welcome.
Time was not on my side so I rang Beth on Tuesday and arranged to visit on Wednesday after work. Which had now arrived.
✉︎ From Sammie
I know it’s going to be hard but you’ve got this. Fresh start. Clean slate. The hogs and I are rooting for you. We’re sending lots of love and hugs for tonight xx
* * *
✉︎ To Sammie
Thank you … although the hugs from the hogs were a bit prickly! ;-) Leaving in ten mins. Nervous, especially as he’s no idea I’m coming or that I know xx
* * *
✉︎ From Sammie
I’m nervous for you! But remember that he wants you back in his life. Did you keep his voicemail? You might want to listen to that when you get there to give you some reassurance xx
* * *
✉︎ To Sammie
Great idea. What would I do without you? xx
* * *
✉︎ From Sammie
You’ll never be without me. Now stop texting me, finish your work, and get to your dad’s!!!! xx
I smiled as I put my phone down and turned back to my computer screen. Even by text, Sammie always knew what to say. Just like Mum. What a surprising conversation that had been on Sunday. I had no idea I’d been looking at their relationship through rose-tinted glasses. Mum had openly admitted that she’d inadvertently played a part in Dad’s relationship with Beth by not making any effort to work on their marriage, making a naïve assumption that they were meant to be together and nothing would get in the way of that; even something as significant as them both changing so much that their only common ground was their memories and me.
I swiftly finished off the email I was typing and approved a couple of medicine orders then logged off. It was time to face… What was he now? I’d thought of him as the enemy for so long. Could things go back to how they’d been before? No. It could never be the same. Far too much had happened. Could we wipe the slate clean as Sammie suggested and rebuild a new father/son relationship? Only time would tell. But if chemo wasn’t working, did we have time?
Beth’s flat in Wilbersgate – a market town roughly halfway between Reddfield and Hull – was a forty-five-minute drive south from the practice. I spent the journey trying to decide what to say but nothing seemed appropriate.
As I entered the outskirts of Wilbersgate, my shoulders tensed. My grip tightened on the steering wheel and I had to fight hard against the urge to pull a U-turn and race back to Hedgehog Hollow.
Beth’s flat was on the top floor of a 1960s-built three-storey block, five minutes’ walk from the town centre. In the two years we were together, I’d picked her up outside a handful of times but she’d always made an excuse not to invite me in. She said it was messy, we didn’t have time, a friend was sleeping on the sofa bed and she didn’t want to make her uncomfortable – excuses that seemed plausible at the time but were clearly a cover-up to keep me away from the evidence that Dad was a regular guest. I’d never dreamed that the first time I’d venture inside would be to confront my dad for having an affair with my girlfriend and almost killing my mum.
I parked in the public car park behind the flats and dialled into Dad’s voicemail, just as Sammie suggested. I listened to it three times before exiting the car, feeling stronger. Here goes…
There were three blocks of a similar size on three sides of a grassy area containing two shabby benches, each with broken slats. Patches of grass were overgrown and others were bare. Two trees looked as though they were either dead or dying. Music was blaring out of a couple of open windows, a painful blend of garage music and 1970s rock over which I could just make out a baby screaming and a couple of men shouting at each other, ever other word an expletive.
Beth’s block – Juniper House – was on my left. I pressed the buzzer to number twenty-two and waited.
‘Hello?’ Beth’s voice sounded tinny over the intercom.
‘Beth? It’s Josh.’
‘Come up and don’t beat the door down this time.’
‘I wasn’t sure if you’d come.’ Beth looked at me uncertainly when she opened the door.
‘I nearly turned round a few times. Is he here?’
‘He usually gets home around six.’
I glanced at my watch. Five more minutes. ‘Am I allowed in?’
‘Sorry. Yes.’ She stepped back so I could pass her. ‘I’d give you a tour but it would literally take ten seconds. You saw most of it last time. Bathroom’s on the right, bedroom’s on the left and everything else is straight ahead of you.’
I had no desire to see their bedroom so I moved forward into the lounge. I’d barely glanced at it before but could now see that it was a compact open-plan room consisting of a small kitchen and dining area at one end overlooking the car park, and an L-shaped lounge.
‘It’s… erm…’
‘Tiny?’ she suggested, sighing. ‘But it was cheap and it’s handy for town.’
I thought back to the heated phone conversation I’d had with her a few months back about them moving into Alder Lea and cringed. I
t must have taken some guts for her to make that request but no wonder. One person would be snug in here but two adults and a baby, not to mention another on the way?
‘Did you just say one bedroom?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘It’s not a bad size. We can squeeze a cot in there although Archie will have to move into the lounge when this one arrives.’ She stroked her hand over her stomach.
I bit my lip as I gazed round the room. Where the hell would they fit Archie’s cot? There was barely room for basic furniture as it was. Plastic crates were piled high against the far wall, seemingly providing the storage solution for Dad’s books and journals and Archie’s clothes and toys.
‘Where is Archie?’ I asked, suddenly aware of his absence.
‘He’s asleep which isn’t ideal when—’
She didn’t get to finish what she was saying because a key turned in the lock, my dad stepped into the hall, and stopped dead, mouth open, as he clocked me standing in the middle of the lounge. ‘Josh? What are you doing here?’ He sounded surprised rather than angry. Then he frowned and looked towards Beth. ‘You told him,’ he added in a flat tone.
‘He needed to know.’
‘Beth!’ He took a couple of steps closer until he was framed in the doorway. ‘We talked about this.’ I’d expected him to be angry with her for going against his wishes but his expression and tone came across as hurt instead.
Beth shuffled over to him and placed her hand on his arm. ‘Yes, but you know I didn’t agree with your decision.’ She rested her head against his shoulder. ‘I’m not going to apologise.’
He kissed the top of her head. I wanted to look away from what seemed like such an intimate moment, yet I found myself glued to them. Mum and Dad had never been touchy-feely and neither had Beth and me. I hadn’t wanted to believe that Dad and Beth could really be in love. It had been easier to imagine that she’d been using him for his money and he was just a middle-aged man whose head was turned by a young, beautiful girl but I could feel the electricity crackling between them.
Dad looked at me. ‘You’d better sit down.’
There was a two-seater sofa and a mismatched armchair so I sat in the chair. Dad adjusted a couple of blue cushions then sat down on the sofa and looked at me expectantly. I grappled for a conversation starter and noticed a name badge attached to his shirt bearing the branding of a veterinary practice in Wilbersgate.
‘You’re a vet at Langton’s?’ I asked.
‘Veterinary nurse.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry.’
He shrugged. ‘No need to be sorry. I’m still working with animals and still using my skills. There weren’t any local vacancies for vets and beggars can’t be choosers. How’s the practice going?’
‘Good. Busy.’ I wasn’t sure what else to say. The practice was thriving but I didn’t want him to think that I was either boasting – especially when he’d taken a backstep in his career – or suggesting that it hadn’t thrived while he’d been there because it had, although he had taken his eye off the ball during his last couple of years there, no doubt distracted by my presence in his girlfriend’s life. With nothing else in my life, I’d thrown myself into the business and worked crazy hours looking at ways to improve the service and operate more efficiently which had now paid dividends.
‘I hear you took on a new vet from Whitsborough Bay.’ He could have sounded bitter – Sammie’s dad was his replacement after all – but instead he sounded interested. His relaxed attitude kept surprising me and, even though it shouldn’t have, it made me feel uncomfortable.
‘Yes. Jonathan Wishaw. He’s my girlfriend Sammie’s dad and he’s a brilliant vet.’
‘Good. I’m glad to hear it.’
We sat in silence for a few moments. I glanced towards the kitchen where Beth was spooning instant coffee into mugs. I searched for another conversation starter. What would Sammie say? She’d compliment them on the décor or the furniture but what could I say without sounding sarcastic or as though I was judging them?
‘Beth tells me you’re living on a farm now,’ Dad said.
‘Yes. Hedgehog Hollow in Huggleswick. Sammie inherited it at the start of the year. It needed some work but we moved in when that was complete.
‘I’m glad you’ve found someone special.’ He sounded like he genuinely meant it. ‘Hedgehog Hollow sounds familiar but I don’t think the previous owners were clients.’
I smiled ruefully, remembering the second unsuccessful encounter I’d had with Sammie when she’d wanted me to honour the arrangement Dad had made with the Micklebys and I bit her head off for mentioning Dad’s name. ‘It was owned by a couple called Thomas and Gwendoline Mickleby. They wanted to run a hedgehog rescue centre there and spoke to you about providing treatment.’
‘A hedgehog rescue centre?’ Dad looked thoughtful. ‘Yes! I remember that. I think it was just before or just after I got the partnership so we’re talking roughly twenty years ago. I only met Gwendoline and we had a good conversation but she never returned.’
‘She died. Probably not long after she’d visited you.’
‘Oh. That’s a shame. I presume her husband didn’t set up the centre.’
I shook my head. ‘It had been Gwendoline’s dream and he couldn’t bear the thought of doing it without her. Sammie’s done it, though. We’ve got sixteen hedgehogs and two hoglets at the moment.’
‘I love hedgehogs.’ Beth handed me a coffee. ‘I’ve never seen one round here, though.’
‘It’s mainly concrete and limited greenery so there won’t be enough food.’ I inwardly cringed. Did it sound like a criticism of where they lived?
I took a sip of my coffee as a distraction from the silence and tried not to react as it burned my mouth. Can’t keep putting it off.
‘So, you have Hodgkin lymphoma…’ It was more of a prompt than a question.
Dad nodded. ‘I found out last year and the chemo didn’t work so we’re exploring next steps.’
‘Which might include a stem cell transplant,’ Beth said.
Dad gave her a look that suggested she was not meant to have revealed that but, of course, I already knew.
‘That’s just one of a number of options,’ Dad said, turning back to me. ‘Nothing’s definite yet.’
‘The only reason it’s not definite is because they need to find a suitable donor,’ Beth said.
‘Beth!’ Dad’s voice was sharp this time as he stared at her. ‘We talked about this too.’
He turned to me once more, a forced smile on his face. ‘A hedgehog rescue centre sounds like a great project. Do you remember when we found a nest of abandoned hoglets at the bottom of the garden at Alder Lea?’
Beth dug him in the ribs. Dad flinched but continued talking. ‘They were so tiny. You were about twelve at the time and you could hold them all in the palm of your hand.’
‘Paul!’ Beth hissed, but Dad ignored her and carried on talking about hedgehogs.
‘Paul!’ A bit louder this time but he continued talking. I looked from one to the other wondering what was going on. Beth looked close to tears.
‘Ask him!’ she cried and then I realised.
‘I’ll be your donor,’ I said, cutting Dad short. ‘If I’m a match, that is.’
A sob escaped from Beth and the tears tumbled down her cheeks.
‘No!’ Dad stood up. ‘You’ll do no such thing.’
‘Paul! He could be your only chance.’
Dad walked over to the window and stood with his back to us. ‘They’re still looking. They’re hopeful. And there’s an option to use the stem cells from the umbilical cord when the baby arrives.’
‘You know that’s not an option for you,’ Beth wailed. ‘I’m not a match for you so my umbilical cord won’t be either. Family are the best chance.’
Dad still didn’t turn round. ‘Siblings are but not usually children. You heard what the consultant said.’
‘Surely it’s worth a try. Please, Paul!’
He sp
un round. ‘Stop it, Beth,’ he snapped. Then he added in a gentler tone, ‘It’s not happening. Sorry, Josh, but this is the exact reason why I didn’t let you know because I knew you’d volunteer, despite everything I’ve done to you, and I cannot and will not ask you to do that. Beth knew that.’
A wail from the bedroom indicated that Archie was awake. Beth pushed herself up from the sofa, wiped her eyes and stomped towards the corridor. Then she stopped and turned to Dad. ‘That’s your baby son in there and your daughter will arrive soon. I know the guilt eats away at you every day but are you really going to risk leaving them without a father because of it?’
‘It’s not going to come to that,’ he said gently.
‘How do you know?’ she cried as Archie’s wails intensified.
‘I want to get tested,’ I insisted.
‘No, Josh. That’s not why—’
‘I know it’s not but, if you’ve been eaten away at guilt for the past eighteen months, imagine how guilty I’ll feel for the rest of my life if I don’t try to help now.’ I grimaced. ‘That sounded better in my head.’
New Arrivals at Hedgehog Hollow Page 19
