by Karen Clarke
‘Oh my god.’ I looked at Mum, and saw fresh tears on her face. ‘That’s awful,’ I said, brushing her cheek with my thumb. ‘No wonder you hated talking about it.’
‘I blamed myself,’ she said huskily, and I sensed Mike making a superhuman effort to not come over and gather her up in his arms. ‘He’d been with me that weekend, and was driving back from the airport.’
‘And it wasn’t even true.’ I looked back at Mike and saw pain etched on his face.
‘I didn’t know what Patricia had done,’ he said. ‘Almost as soon as I regained consciousness, Patricia told me she was pregnant. Her parents were Catholic, so there was no question of me not doing the right thing.’ He rubbed a hand over his mouth. ‘I tried to call Rose once I was home, but her housemate said she she’d gone back home to Plymouth. I guessed she must have thought I’d decided to stay with Patricia when I didn’t come back, and wanted nothing more to do with me. I told myself it was probably for the best.’
Seizing a distraction, I said, ‘You have more children?’
Mike gave a pained little smile and shook his head. ‘It turned out Patricia wasn’t pregnant at all, but we were married by then.’ His eyes shimmered. ‘Ironically, she couldn’t have children.’
Mum brushed her face with the sleeve of her coat, and took the reins of the story she’d clearly been coming to terms with over the past few days. ‘When they divorced, eight years later, Mike tried to look for me, but your granny had died and we’d moved out here, and, anyway, Mike didn’t even know whereabouts in Plymouth I’d lived.’
‘He knew your name though, it couldn’t have been that hard.’
‘I figured she was happily married and wouldn’t want me turning up and rocking the boat,’ Mike said. ‘I decided to leave the past where it was. I even remarried, but that didn’t last either.’ His gaze dropped for a moment. ‘I never forgot your ma, and when Stuart – that’s my brother – told me he’d been watching the show and saw someone who looked like a younger version of Rose, talking about not knowing her dad who’d lived in Ireland…’ He shook his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. ‘When he heard your surname was Larson, he called me right away, and I knew immediately you had to be my daughter.’ He paused, as if struggling to contain his emotions. ‘The programme’s location gave away roughly where you were, so it wasn’t hard after that to find Rose.’
They exchanged watery-eyed smiles, as if the wonder of it had hit them all over again. ‘If I’d any idea your ma was pregnant, wild horses wouldn’t have kept me away all these years.’ His eyes searched my face as if looking for signs of upset. ‘I honestly didn’t know about you, Meg, and I’m so sorry. For not being there, and… for everything.’
Suddenly unable to bear the intensity, I rose and lurched to the fireplace. In the mirror above my face was the colour of glue, my eyes big with shock. I thought about Sam, and felt a dull thud in my chest. He should have been with me for this, not cycling past fields of sunflowers, hundreds of miles away, while my life twisted out of shape. I looked at my hands, and saw that my nails had dug white crescents into my palms.
‘Meg?’ Mum’s voice was hesitant. ‘I know this is a lot to take in—’
‘Freya’s left Don, by the way.’ I spun round, expecting to see Mike still in the armchair, but he’d moved to sit next to Mum, as though now he’d found her he couldn’t bear to leave her side. ‘She’s dumped Milo on Kath.’
‘What?’ Although Mum blanched, she still somehow radiated happiness. It was coming off her in waves, despite her tear-streaked cheeks. ‘I’ll call Kath later,’ she said, adjusting the hem of her coat to cover her knees. ‘We haven’t spoken for a couple of days.’
‘I know, she’s been worried about you,’ I said. ‘We really thought you were sick.’
Reaching out, she gently touched my wrist. ‘Meg, I’m sorry, I really am, but I hope you can understand why I needed a bit of time.’
A thought catapulted into my head out of nowhere. ‘It was you!’ I looked at Mike, who’d risen as if to approach me. ‘You bought the bakery,’ I said, staring at him. It made perfect sense. As soon as he’d watched the programme and realised I was his daughter – his daughter! – he’d made the offer that had blown Don’s out of the water. ‘It was you,’ I repeated. It also explained Mum’s flowery text, gushing her congratulations. Her beloved Mike had made up for not being a father for thirty years by buying his new-found daughter the bakery she loved so much. ‘Well, you can keep it.’ I was fighting a sudden, overwhelming urge to cry. ‘You can’t just come waltzing back and buy me a bakery and think that makes you my dad.’
‘Meg!’ Mum stood too. ‘It wasn’t Mike,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, love.’
His look of confusion told me Mum was right. ‘Rose told me about that, when she got your text,’ he said. ‘Believe me, Meg, if I’d had the means there’s nothing I’d have loved more than to buy the bakery, but I’m not that well-off, I’m afraid.’ His voice bulged with sincerity. ‘I used to have money, but two divorces put paid to that.’ He shot Mum an apologetic smile. ‘I’m not broke,’ he went on, as if to reassure me. ‘I told your mum, I left my sales job after the second divorce and have a little antique shop now. It’s not much, but it’s a living, and I like it.’ He cast his gaze around the room. ‘Your mum has some lovely pieces,’ he said proudly. ‘She’s got a good eye.’
‘Does he know…?’ I looked at Mum and she lifted her eyebrows.
‘That I don’t go out much?’ She nodded. ‘He knows everything.’ She clutched his arm and gave a giddy laugh I’d definitely not heard before. ‘And he still loves me.’
Love? My head swam. ‘How come you were so thrilled about the bakery, when you wanted me to give up work a week ago?’
Her eyes flicked to Mike and back. ‘Because it’s your dream come true,’ she said.
‘But you told me that babies were what life was all about.’
‘They are, of course.’ Mum’s face quivered. ‘But Mike made me see that the bakery’s important to you too, and it’s not fair to put pressure on you to have a baby just because I want to be a grandma.’ She really had told him everything. ‘In a way, that bakery is your baby. But not as cuddly.’ She gave another swirl of laughter, and squashed her cheek against Mike’s arm, and seeing the eighteen-year-old version of Mum superimposed over the one I was used to, was unnerving. I had the feeling again that I’d somehow stepped back in time.
‘I hear you’re getting married in a few months’ time,’ Mike said. ‘I can’t wait to meet… Sam, is that right?’ He looked to Mum for confirmation.
‘Mike could walk you down the aisle,’ she said, eyes glazing over as if picturing it. ‘Won’t that be wonderful?’
I looked at them standing side by side, like a team – like parents – and something close to panic started to build. It was too much, being presented with a dad like this. Mum and I had managed fine all these years, on our own. I wasn’t sure I wanted a dad, and I didn’t need one to walk me down the aisle.
‘He’s got some lovely photos to show you,’ Mum was saying now, indicating a phone on the coffee table, next to her Edwardian silver teapot, and Mike smiled and scooped it up. ‘He has a lovely little spaniel called Lennie.’
She took the phone off him, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and held it out for me to see. I glanced at a liver-coloured dog with a tennis ball in its mouth, wearing a fluorescent green collar. ‘And this is your cousin Ellen, she’s a year younger than you, but don’t you think you have the same eyes?’
I looked at the young woman on the screen, but it was as if she was a different species, and I didn’t know how to respond. My brain felt ready to explode and I’d forgotten how to breathe properly.
‘Anything you want to know about Mike, just ask,’ Mum said. ‘He’s got a bit of arthritis in his left hip, he does a lot of walking, there’s some lovely walks near where he lives apparently, and I’ve recommended a supplement. For his hip. Oh, a
nd he reads a lot, mostly autobiographies, and he lives above his antique shop, which looks just lovely, there’s a picture here somewhere, and he likes quiz shows—’
‘I have to go,’ I cut in. ‘I told Kath I’d let her know you were OK.’
‘Oh, Meg, you can’t leave!’ Looking horrified, Mum dropped the phone and grabbed my hand. ‘We’ve so much to talk about, and your dad wants to know everything about you.’ Her eyes were imploring. ‘I’d planned for us all to have dinner, and was going to suggest you stay the night in your old room, and we could go out for breakfast tomorrow, and maybe show Mike the sights.’
It was as if she was trying to wind back the clock, to when I was a little girl, so my dad could read me a bedtime story and we could go to the beach together.
‘It’s too soon, Mum.’
‘But we’ve wasted so much time already.’ She looked ready to cry again. ‘We’ve a lot to make up.’
A crushing tiredness descended, mingled with the sort of sadness I’d felt earlier, but this time it was for Mum, for all the time she’d missed with my father – and, maybe, a little bit for myself, too.
‘I know, Mum, really, I understand, I do, but… I’ve got a lot to do,’ I said. ‘I’m reopening the bakery on Saturday and need to get organised.’
‘But, Meg, this is much more important.’ She appealed to Mike, who was watching me shrewdly as if he understood.
He laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘There’s plenty of time, Rose,’ he said quietly. ‘I think Meg needs a bit of space to let it all sink in.’
‘But she’ll be going back to an empty house.’
‘Honestly, Mum, I’ll be fine.’ I stuck my palm out. ‘It was nice to meet you, Mike.’
‘Nice?’ Mum tutted, as if she’d expected more, but a handshake was all I could manage.
‘It’s been wonderful meeting you, Meg. The best day of my life.’
When Mike took my hand, I felt again that tug of recognition – of having known him before – and the temptation to fall against him was almost overpowering. Instead, I let go of his hand and brushed past, managing a stifled, ‘I’ll be in touch,’ before leaving the way I’d come in. ‘She’s OK!’ I called, hearing Kath’s concerned enquiry as I ran to my car without looking back. Mum was going to have to explain this one to her.
Chapter Twenty
Back home, the house felt cloistered, too small for the feelings I was struggling to contain. I made some coffee, needing a caffeine boost in spite of the heat, and went to sit in the garden with my phone. I checked Facebook first, and saw today’s photo featured Sam and Chris, helmeted and goggled, arms slung round each other’s shoulders, a ridge of mountains in the background.
Finally reached the Roman spa town of Lons-le-Saunie. Saving the real climbs for tomorrow, when we’ll be crossing the Jura Mountains into Switzerland!
Go Pedal Pushers, wish I was there :- a group member called Ben had commented, and I remembered he’d broken his ankle and had had to drop out. Underneath Sam had replied Miss you mate, you’d have loved it. Next year, you’ll be here!
I’d half-expected him to not have posted a photo, or to at least be looking upset after our conversation the night before, or to not be in the picture, too baggy-eyed after a sleepless night going over our conversation – then I reminded myself he probably hadn’t remembered half of it. There was nothing in his grin to suggest he was out of sorts, and I wondered why I’d ever thought there would be.
I knew he’d still be cycling, but called him anyway and left a message. ‘Big news, if you’re interested. Turns out my dad’s not dead after all. His brother saw me on television, and Mike flew over from Ireland, and he and my mum are back together. I’ve just met him. He seems really nice. Anyway. I thought you’d want to know.’ I paused, then added, ‘I really need to talk to you, Sam. Call when you can.’
I’d just hung up, and was contemplating my next move – a nap seemed like an attractive option, though the lawn needed watering too – when my phone rang.
‘Christ, Meg, I can’t believe it!’
‘Sam?’
‘We just stopped for a break and I got your message,’ he said. He sounded a bit put out, as if he’d been having a great time and wished he hadn’t looked at his phone. ‘I mean, what the hell? Your dad’s alive?’
‘I know, can you believe it?’ The tears I’d been holding back began to fall. In spite of everything, Sam was the one who knew my history; had listened to me speculate about the side of my family I’d never know, and comforted me by saying I was lucky to have Mum, and his family too, which was more than some people had.
‘He couldn’t have emailed you first, and given you some warning?’ he said, and I heard it again. A tiny trace of impatience, as if my news had disrupted his day and now he had to factor in my messy feelings. ‘So, what’s his story?’
Tears drying on my cheeks, I gave him the potted version and when I was done, he said, ‘Christ,’ again, with a note of disbelief. ‘I mean, I’m not being funny, Meg, but in a way it’s a bit selfish of him to do this, don’t you think?’
I frowned. ‘Selfish?’
‘I mean, it’s such a grenade,’ he said. ‘You’ve been fine without him all this time, and now he turns up out of the blue, and you’ve got to get your head around having a dad.’
Despite thinking the same thing just an hour ago, I felt my hackles rise, but before I could process a response, he spoke again.
‘I’m starting to think going on that show was the worst thing you’ve ever done, Meg.’
‘Hah!’ The sound rocketed out without warning.
‘What?’ Sam sounded startled, as though I’d burped. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means… it just means…’ I thought of Cassie, saying she’d known that going on the show would pay off, and Nathan letting me perform a pretend interview with him to calm my nerves beforehand, and people coming up to me in the café to say I’d done myself proud, and how – in spite of the way I’d blathered on – the show had not only brought me the bakery, but my father, and had possibly mended my mother’s heart. ‘It means, I thought you’d be happy for me,’ was all I could articulate.
‘I thought you were already happy.’ He sounded baffled, as if he genuinely didn’t understand why I wouldn’t be. ‘You’ve got my dad, you know he thinks the world of you—’
‘Sam, that’s hardly the point,’ I cut in, watching a shuttlecock sail over the hedge from next door, almost surprised to see that the sky was still blue, and the sun was still shining when it felt like storm clouds were gathering. ‘I didn’t think I had a dad, and now he’s here, and I want to get to know him.’ I did, I realised. I wanted to get to know my dad.
‘Everyone has a dad, Meg.’
It was a lame attempt at a joke, but I’d never felt less like laughing. ‘Sam, do you remember our conversation last night?’
‘What?’ I imagined his forehead scrunching as he pulled on his powers of recall. ‘Of course. You said that someone had bought the bakery.’
‘They want me to run it,’ I reminded him.
‘Was it your dad?’
‘I thought that too, but no, it wasn’t him.’
‘Well, that’s weird.’ I imagined him shaking his head, as if his thoughts had defeated him. ‘Why would someone do that, and what do they want in return?’
I stared at my ring, glinting in the sunlight. ‘Why are you so suspicious?’
‘Suspicious?’ His laugh was tinged with disbelief. ‘I’m looking out for you, Meg. It sounds like somebody has to.’ Someone called his name, and I guessed it was time for him to hit the road again.
‘How’s George?’ I said, remembering the photo I’d seen of him looking at her admiringly, and how I’d automatically assumed that George was a man.
‘Fine,’ he said, after a miniscule pause. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘No reason.’ I jumped as one of the twins burst through the hedge and tiptoed towards the shuttlecock as if t
rying to avoid triggering a landmine.
‘We’re all fine, just tired,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to go, Meg. We’ll talk properly when I get back.’
‘OK.’ I couldn’t edit the sadness out of my voice, but he’d already hung up.
‘Why are you always crying?’ said the twin, his nut-brown face screwed up in childish disgust. ‘I never cry and I’m a child.’
I swiped a hand over my cheek, surprised it felt damp, and said, ‘It’s because you and your brother are so noisy and naughty it gives me a terrible headache.’
His face was a circle of shock. ‘I’ll tell my mummy on you,’ he pronounced, folding his arms across his skinny chest. ‘She says just ’cos you were on telly you think you’re better than everyone, but all you do is bake cakes, and anyone can do that, even me.’ He unfolded his arms and pointed to himself.
‘Go on then,’ I said, stalking back to the house. ‘Go and bake a bloody cake, and stay out of my garden.’
Back inside I considered having a proper cry, but couldn’t muster the strength. Instead I messaged Cassie and Tilly:
Emergency girls’ night, cake and wine at mine xx
‘Jesus, Meg, it’s all happening.’ Tilly had collapsed on the rug and folded her legs beneath her, while Cassie was ensconced in the granddad chair, a glass of wine balanced on the arm. ‘You’ve had a sexy daydream, been on TV, found a buyer for the bakery, and your dad’s come back from the dead.’
And that’s only the half of it.
‘Makes my life seems really dull in comparison.’ Cassie hadn’t touched her drink yet, she’d been so wrapped up in my retelling of the day’s events, and I’d enjoyed my friends’ reactions a whole lot more than I had Sam’s. Through their eyes, I could see now just how amazing and arbitrary life was. How, if Mr Moseley hadn’t passed away, and I hadn’t been so ‘wedded to that bakery’ as Tilly put it, and Alice Denby hadn’t been in Seashell Cove and invited me on the show, I’d never have known my father was alive.
