Our Father Who Are Out There...Somewhere

by AJ Taft

  “One day, when you have kids, you’ll understand.”

  At the hospital, Fiona is sitting up in bed, but when she sees Lily and David she closes her eyes and pretends to be asleep. The doctor who discharges her tells David she must spend at least two days in bed, resting. David carries her like a child, her legs bent over the crook of his arm, to the car. Lily carries Fiona’s possessions in a hospital issued plastic bag; one set of damp clothes and an empty vodka bottle.

  Stuart is at work, but Jo is waiting for them, having been to the shop for tins of chicken soup and bottles of banana milkshake. David has already pumped up the air bed and placed it at the foot of Stuart’s bed. He’s careful not to step on it as he lays out his youngest child on the double bed. He covers her with a duvet and rearranges the pillows behind her. Throughout the whole procedure, Fiona doesn’t open her eyes once.

  “Can I get you anything, Fiona?”

  She doesn’t answer. He stays sitting on the other side of the bed next to her for half an hour, but she doesn’t open her eyes. When David goes downstairs to make a cup of tea, Lily is waiting for him.

  “You can go up now, but only for a few minutes. She’s not speaking. I think she just needs to rest.”

  Lily runs up the stairs into Stuart’s bedroom, banishing memories of the last time she was in there. “Oh Fiona, I’m so glad to see you. How you feeling?”

  Fiona is lying prostrate on the bed. She makes no attempt to move, to sit up.

  “I’m so sorry Fiona,” says Lily. “I will never forgive myself.”

  Tears seep through Fiona’s closed eyelids.

  “Oh Fi, please don’t cry. I bought you some magazines.” Lily lays a copy of Just Seventeen and Smash Hits on the bed next to Fiona. Fiona turns her head towards the wall.

  “Would you like me to read them to you?” Still Fiona doesn’t look at her. “Come on, Fiona. Say something.”

  Ten minutes Lily goes back downstairs. Fiona remains mute the rest of the day.

  On Sunday morning Stuart, Lily and David are in the kitchen eating breakfast. “It’s my fault that she’s in such a state,” Stuart says. “I should be the one to talk to her.”

  David wipes his fingertips on his handkerchief. “I think you’ve upset her quite enough already. I’ll have another try.”

  As he stands up, Jo comes back through the kitchen door, carrying Fiona’s untouched breakfast on a tray. Jo shakes her head at them and says to Stuart, “I think you need to grovel some more.”

  “Come on Da… David,” Lily says. “Let Stuart go and see her. We’re not getting anywhere.”

  David looks at Stuart and says, “Five minutes.”

  Stuart climbs the stairs and knocks on his bedroom door. There is no answer, so he pushes the door. The room is dark, the curtains drawn, blocking what little light the day contains. He creeps inside, trying to adjust to the gloom. “Fiona?”

  Fiona flicks on the switch without moving, the flex of the bedside lamp coiled in her hand. Stuart jumps, and screws up his face against the sudden influx of light. Fiona stares, unblinking at him, her dark eyes emphasized by the dark shadows underneath.

  “I don’t know what to say… except I’m sorry.”

  Fiona narrows her eyes at him. He adjusts his weight as his legs start to weaken, but he doesn’t look away.

  “Did you mean it? Do you love her?”

  He nods.

  “Are you in love with her?”

  “Yes I am.”

  “And you don’t love me?”

  He looks up at the ceiling. “I do love you, but I’m not… it’s different.”

  Fiona sinks down into the duvet, and pulls a pillow over her face.

  “Oh please don’t cry Fiona, you’re fifteen.” Stuart sits down on the edge of the bed and tries to stroke her arm.

  She removes the pillow, shrugs off his touch, anger suffusing her face and neck. “Don’t you dare…”

  Stuart holds up his hand. “What I mean is, you were never going to stay with me for long.” She opens her mouth to argue, but he’s too quick for her, “You’ve got ‘A’ levels, and university. And travelling; you’ve always said you wanted to see the world.”

  “I meant with you.”

  “No you didn’t. You’ve got it all in front of you. You’ve just found your sister.”

  “So has Lily.”

  “You don’t need me.”

  “And Lily does?”

  “Yeah, I think she does.”

  “I think that’s patronising. You’re patronising me and you’re patronising her. You make it sound like you’re doing this because she needs you more than me, but I need you.”

  “You don’t. You know you don’t. I don’t think Lily does either. I think with you and your dad and all your family, she’s got what she needs. It doesn’t matter anyway; she’s never going to let herself love me, because she loves you too much.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m sorry, Fiona. I thought I loved you, honestly I did. And I did, kind of.” He doesn’t notice her wincing at his words. “But then, when I met Lily, I started having these feelings and I realised…”

  “What?”

  “I realised that what I felt for you, well it wasn’t love, not true love.”

  “Get out.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Get out.”

  “You were never going to stay with me for long,” he says, ducking as a rolled up copy of Smash Hits hurtles through the air towards him. He opens the door and leaves as the bedside clock crashes against the doorframe.

  “I never want to see you again,” Fiona shouts at the closed door. She climbs out of bed and opens the door. The stairwell and hallway below are empty. “You’re pathetic. Do you know that?”

  Her father opens the front room door and steps into the hall. “Did you call me?”

  “No.” Fiona slams the bedroom door closed and throws herself across Stuart’s double bed, sobs wracking her body.

  An hour and a half later, Lily edges into the room, with lunch on a tray. “How are you feeling?”

  Fiona turns away from her to face the window, the back of her hand against her forehead. “Sick.”

  “Try and eat something, Fi. It will make you feel better.”

  “I can’t. My throat hurts too much.” Fiona watches Lily set the tray down on top of the set of drawers next to the bed. “So, do you love him?”

  Lily closes her eyes, her back to Fiona. “I told you, it doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve only known him just over a week, during which time I’ve kidnapped a sister I didn’t know I had, blackmailed my own father, made more money than I’ve ever seen, and drunk the best part of about fifteen bottles of vodka. I don’t know anything, except nothing’s going to come of it.”

  “So you promise you won’t start seeing him? You won’t have any contact with him after this?”

  Lily turns to meet Fiona’s gaze. “I promise,” she says.

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Because the stakes are too high,” says Lily. She sits on the edge of Fiona’s bed, the same spot where Stuart sat. “What if I did start seeing him behind your back? Where would it go? All that would happen is that I’d be found out, and I’d lose everything. I’ve got no one, Fiona. No one. I’m not going to risk it am I? Not on a man I’ve known less than a fortnight.”

  Fiona closes her eyes for a few moments. Then she sits herself a little higher up against the pillows. “I might be able to manage a few sips of water.”

  Lily jumps up to pour her a glass of water from the jug and holds the glass to Fiona’s lips. Fiona takes a sip and groans a little as the water passes down her throat. She nods towards the door. Lily stands poised next to her, the cup in her hand. “Do you mind?” says Fiona, nodding towards the door. “I want to be alone.”

  Lily puts the cup down. “Shall I take the tray away?”

  “No leave it th
ere. I may feel like something a bit later.”

  Fiona watches Lily leave the room, waits a few moments, and then reaches for the bowl of soup and the hunk of soft white bread.

  Chapter 38

  Lily closes the bedroom door behind her and exhales. She starts slowly down the attic stairs. Halfway down she sits down on the middle step. A flash of memory of her granddad; what was that rhyme? ‘Not at the bottom and not at the top’. The more she reaches for the memory, the more it dances away from her. The strains of the ‘Only Fools and Horses’ theme tune, filter up from the front room. Lily sinks her head into her hands.

  When she opens the door to the front room a few minutes later, Stuart and David are sitting in matching armchairs, each with an opened can of lager in front of them. Lily asks, “Where’s Jo?”

  “She’s gone out,” says Stuart without shifting his gaze from the television screen.

  “Where to?”

  “She didn’t say,” says Stuart, as David laughs out loud. On screen Granddad is upstairs in a stately home, unscrewing an enormous chandelier, while Rodney and Del stand on stepladders in the room below holding out a sheet, braced to catch it. Granddad hits the peg out, and a second chandelier in the room behind Del and Rodney smashes to the floor.

  “Classic,” David mutters, banging his palm on the arm of his chair.

  “Stuart?” says Lily. “Will you help me find the tea tray?”

  “It’s in the cupboard underneath the sink.”

  “Stuart,” Lily repeats, a warning note creeping into her tone.

  Stuart tears his gaze from the television and looks at Lily for the first time since she entered the room. As she pulls a face at him, he understands. “Ah.” He gets up and follows her into the kitchen, leaving David chuckling to himself. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve just promised Fiona that I won’t see you again.”

  “Oh.” The silence is broken only by the sound of David’s laughter. “Do you want me to leave?” he asks. “Or are you going to wear a blindfold?”

  “Don’t try and be funny.”

  “But why-”

  “I didn’t have much choice.”

  “Why don’t-”

  “I need you to help me. This is the first time in my life I feel like I belong somewhere. Don’t let me screw it up, please.” Stuart steps towards her as Lily takes five steps back.

  “Oh, Lily.”

  “Please.” Lily backs into the sink. She puts her hands behind her back and holds onto its edge to keep herself upright. “Don’t ruin my life.”

  Stuart looks at her, sees the tears threatening to fall. He studies her face for a moment and then he says, “Ok,” turns 180 degrees and leaves the room.

  It’s another twenty four hours before Fiona pads, barefooted down the stairs. It’s already dark outside, even though it’s not yet four o’clock. She stands outside the front room door for a moment, drawing breath before throwing open the door and stepping into the room, shoulders back and her head held high. The sleeveless top with black embroidery she bought on her Christmas shopping trip with Jo, and the skin tight jeans she’s lifted from Lily’s room, emphasize the fact she has lost a few pounds during the last few days.

  It takes Fiona a moment to realise the room is empty. She cocks her head and hears voices coming from the kitchen. Quietly, she places a hand on the door handle, her bright pink nails gleaming, and pushes the door ajar. Inside, she sees Stuart standing with his back to her, sleeves rolled up, using a rolling pin on something. Jo is washing up at the sink and Lily and her father are both sitting facing each other at the kitchen table. Lily is peeling potatoes. She can’t see what her father is doing, as he has his back to her. ‘God Bless Ye Merry Gentlemen’ plays on the radio.

  Fiona stands unobserved for a moment before Lily catches sight of her. “Hi, Fiona.”

  David turns in his seat and smiles at his youngest daughter. “Baby, oh I’m so glad you’re feeling brighter. Come and sit down.” He takes a pile of recipe books off the chair next to him. “You can be in charge of timings. The responsibility is too much for me.”

  Jo winks at Fiona. “You look great. I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

  “What are you all doing?” asks Fiona.

  “Well,” says David, “we thought, because you’ve been feeling so poorly, we thought we’d all stay here for Christmas, so we’re making dinner for tomorrow.” He sees the puzzled expression on her face. “It’s Christmas Day tomorrow.”

  David’s eyes are bright, his shirtsleeves are rolled up and he has flour down the front of his trousers. He follows Fiona’s gaze to the open bottle of Château neuf-du-Pape on the table and shrugs his shoulders. “I’ve been making truffles. It wouldn’t be Christmas without truffles.”

  Fiona notices plasters on each of Lily’s forefingers. “What happened to you?”

  “Terrible accident with the potato peeler,” says Lily. “Don’t worry about me. I have more fingers.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in Liverpool?” Fiona asks Jo.

  “I thought I’d stick around. I’ve made a deal with my mother.” Jo raises an eyebrow. “Don’t ask, but I don’t have to be home until Boxing Day.”

  Fiona stands nonplussed for a few more moments. The others watch her without speaking. Stuart smiles at her. “Well,” she asks, “what can I do then?”

  “You can squash five pence pieces into this,” says Jo, lobbing a Marks and Spencer’s wrapped pudding across the room. “For luck.”

  Fiona catches it in both hands.

  Chapter 39

  Fiona sits up in bed on Christmas morning, switches on the lamp and sees her father asleep on the air mattress, like a guard dog at the foot of her bed. “Daddy?”

  The heap of blankets stirs.

  “Will Mum be coming over? It’s Christmas Day.”

  “What?” says her father, as he tries to raise himself on one elbow, his eyes screwed up against the light.

  “Mum, I was wondering whether…”

  “Oh darling, I don’t think so. Your mother is very upset with me at the moment, understandably so. But she still loves you, obviously, and I’m sure she’ll want to spend some time with-”

  “Oh my goodness.” Fiona’s attention is caught by the sight of a bulky red stocking hanging at the foot of her bed. She grins at her father and asks in mock-amazement, “How did Father Christmas know where to find me?”

  Her father lies back down on his mattress. “Oh, we sent him a last minute fax. Go back to sleep. It’s too early.”

  “Rubbish. It’s nearly six,” says Fiona, diving across the sheets.

  Her father groans and pulls his blankets up over his face. Fiona pulls the first present from the stocking and is about to rip the paper off, when she stops and asks her father, “Do you think I should wake the others?”

  David lifts the blankets a couple of inches so that he can see his daughter. “They said I wasn’t to let you open so much as one tiny corner, without them being here.”

  Fiona claps her hands together and leaps out of bed, jumping down onto her father’s air bed and nearly catapulting him across the other side of the room. He listens to her knocking on the next door and shouting, “It’s Christmas,” her voice filled with excitement. David smiles to himself as he hears Jo swear.

  “Come on Stuart. Wake up,” calls Fiona, as she clatters down the stairs. Stuart appears in a T-shirt and boxer shorts, rubbing his head. Minutes later they are assembled in Stuart’s bedroom. Lily climbs into the double bed next to Fiona, and pulls the duvet over her legs. Jo clambers onto the foot of the bed.

  “Chuck us a pillow. Come on Stuart, there’s room for another here.” Jo indicates the portion of the bed next to her.

  “And you Daddy.” Fiona squashes up next to Lily.

  “I’m perfectly alright down here.”

  “No, you’re not, you can’t see properly. Come on.” Fiona pats the mattress next to her. “Has no one else got a stocking?”


  The others all shake their heads. “Obviously you’re the only one who’s been good enough this year,” Jo says. “I don’t know what I could have done wrong, unless it was the whole kidnapping thing.”

  “Oh, I feel terrible being the only one with presents,” Fiona says, as she rips the paper off the first present out of the stocking. It’s a soft brown teddy bear with the words ‘I can’t bear to be without you’ embroidered on its belly. “Who are all these from?”

  “Father Christmas,” comes the chorus.

  Each item in the stocking is wrapped and decorated with curling ribbons. Fiona unwraps lipsticks, chocolates, mousse for her hair, scented candles and a silver charm of two children, holding a bucket between them, a spade in each of their other hands. “That’s beautiful; I’ve got a charm bracelet.”

  “Go on,” Lily urges, “there’s still more.”

  Fiona unwraps the 12" version of Eurythmics’ ‘Sisters Are Doing it for Themselves’, a small book of William Blake’s poetry and the photograph of Lily and Fiona on the log flume ride, in a silver plated frame. Finally, at the bottom of her stocking, she finds a bag of gold chocolate coins, a tangerine and a packet of hazelnuts.

  “Wow,” says Fiona as she lies back against the headboard, the bed almost completely covered in wrapping paper.

  The phone rings. Stuart goes to answer it and comes back a moment later. He looks at David. “It’s for you.”

  David pulls back the bed sheets and climbs out of bed, his pyjamas still bearing the creases from their packaging.

  Lily picks up the book of Blake’s poetry. “I’ve never heard of him.” She flicks open the pages and reads out loud.

  He who bends to himself a joy

  Doth the winged life destroy

  but he who kisses a joy as it flies,

  lives in eternity’s sunrise

  David re-enters the room. “Your mother wants to come and see you.”

  “Crikey, she’s coming here?” Fiona looks at the four of them, squashed into bed, with its wrapping paper eiderdown.

  Her father ties his dressing gown around his waist. “Yes, I’m under strict instructions to vacate the premises, and take my issue with me. By that she means you,” he says to Lily. “She’ll be here between two and three thirty, when she has to leave because she has to get back to Skipton by six to meet a client.”