‘How was the trip with Zach?’
‘Really lovely. He was so thoughtful and had planned one activity after another. I had no idea where we were going until we arrived in Avignon!’
‘Sounds like a lovely getaway.’
‘Itwas. He’d gone to so much effort to make it special and we didn’t stop laughing the entire time.’
Dad nods approvingly. ‘I’d love to meet him when you feel ready.’
I shovel in a mouthful of cake. Introducing your boyfriend to your dad feels like a big step, even more so than meeting my friends for the first time, but as I scoff another forkful of lemon drizzle – my fave – I realise that the thought hasn’t had me choking on cake crumbs like it would have in the past. Pre-Zach, even the idea of having a boyfriend was totally alien to me. And yet now, I actually think I’d quite like Dad to meet him.
‘Okay, sounds good.’
Dad heads into the kitchen and I plonk down on our old pink sofa, sitting just how Mum used to, with my knees together and my legs tucked up to one side. It used to feel strange coming back here when I was at uni. I missed our old home so much but really, it wasn’t home I missed, it was Mum. Slowly Dad and I filled his new house with our favourite things that Mum had collected over the years, plus some renegade choices of our own. He’s particularly partial to a drinks trolley he found in Sheffield’s Antiques Quarter which I’m pretty sure Mum would have vetoed, and we laugh about it every time it’s in use.
Dad potters through with it now, resplendent with a bottle of Harvey’s Bristol Cream and a bowl of Mini Cheddars.
‘Drinks from the trolley?’ He grins. A birthday sherry has been a tradition for as long as I can remember.
As we sip our sherries I notice that Dad’s a bit fidgety. ‘Are we still on for pie and mash this week?’ I ask. Dad and I head to his local pub for pie and mash night every other Tuesday and it’s a long-standing highlight for me.
He munches on a snack before pausing and looking a bit mystified. ‘Well … yes,’ he says, picking up one of Mum’s cushions and having a good look at it before sending his eyes skyward.
‘Dad?’ I’m worried now.
‘I thought I might bring a plus one.’
I chuckle with relief, amused that Dad thinks an extra person for pie and mash constitutes a plus one like we’re attending a wedding.
‘Who’s the VIP? I haven’t seen Frank or Chris in a while.’
Dad coughs.
‘Er, not one of the chaps. A lady friend of mine,’ he blushes.
‘A lady friend?’ I’m caught by surprise, watching him bob his head up and down.
‘Okay,’ I say, taking a quick sip of sherry and stuffing in a fistful of crisps. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you’re seeing someone, Dad?’
Dad gives the cushion a good flumph.
‘Well, yes, I suppose I am.’ He looks so incredibly nervous that I make a gargantuan effort to swallow all the Mini Cheddars asap and rush over to give him a cuddle. Only all the snacks make my throat very dry and I splutter.
‘Are you crying?’ he asks.
‘Mouth full,’ I cough. ‘Not crying.’
We sit on the sofa in silence for a while, me knocking back sherry in an attempt to clear my throat while waiting for Dad to say something. As I slurp he busies himself stacking snacks into a crumby pile on his arm rest.
‘So …’ I prompt after an age.
‘Oof,’ he says, wiping a tear from his eye.
‘Oh Dad! Don’t be sad. Why are you sad?’
‘I’m not sad, love. I’m happy. It’s just all a bit much. She’s called Gloria and we met at the golf club. She decided to take up golf as a way to destress after her divorce. Her ex was a bit of a scoundrel by all accounts. Gloria said she was taking great joy in pretending the golf ball was her ex-husband’s head.’
I laugh. Gloria sounds great.
