‘So, Heather. We’re dying to hear your news, aren’t we, Robert?’
Her dad’s eyes close in a slow, laborious blink.
Heather has come prepared. She passes photographs of Georgia through the ages around the table, pointing out her proficiency in hockey, dance and the guitar. She shows them a map of St Andrews, pointing out the location of John Logie College, and tells them all about the new friends Georgia's made. Her father takes each photograph from the table as they’re passed around and holds them in a trembling left hand whilst tracing his granddaughter’s face with the crooked forefinger of his right.
‘Wonderful. Wonderful,’ her mother says in response to each photograph.
‘And how’s work?’ she asks once Heather has accepted her second triangular sandwich. She nibbles the crust.
‘Actually, I resigned today,’ she says.
‘No!’ Her father brings a fisted hand to his small side table and shouts the word across the room. Small fragments of egg escape from his lips.
Heather’s mum’s eyes widen in horror, and Heather senses her accompanying frustration. The purpose of today’s visit is to bring her back into the fold, not to re-open old wounds and cause new rifts to form. Her mum stares hard at her husband before returning her gaze to her daughter.
‘I think what your dad means is that accountancy is a highly skilled, well-paid job. And you worked so hard to get those qualifications.’
‘I know, Mum. I passed my first exam nineteen years ago. I’ve been doing the job, or something like it, for almost two decades. But my firm were taking advantage of me, giving me low-skilled work to fit in alongside my responsible role, and it’s just too much. There are things I want to do now Georgia’s at university. Things for me.’
‘Jeez,’ Fraser says, reaching over and patting her on the back. ‘Proud of you, sis.’
‘So?’ Her father speaks for the second time.
Heather knows he wants to hear there’s a new plan in place.
‘I’ve started up a painting business, focused on memorials for family pets, either once they’ve passed away, or for students when they’ve left their pets behind when they go off to university.’
She shows the partially finished picture of Maisie that had caused such a stir the day before.
‘I’ve had loads of orders come through on my website, and there’s no way I’d be able to fulfil them whilst working full time in finance.’
Heather’s mum places her hand over her heart.
‘My goodness. Imagine that, Robert. We’ve got a daughter with her own business and a website.’
Robert, his hands now shaking uncontrollably, nods, his lips thinned. Is this what pride in her looks like in his older, wizened face?
Noticing the sudden change in her husband’s demeanour, Heather’s mum scurries around to the other side of the table and gestures for Fraser to help. It’s clearly a routine they’ve mastered together.
‘I’m sorry, love,’ her mother says over her shoulder as she bends to assist Robert to his feet with Fraser’s help. ‘It’s time for his pills and a nap. I think we’ve had the best out of him today.’
***
Is it her imagination, or have some of her mother’s worry lines smoothed out a little now her father’s in bed? She finds a space beside Heather on the sofa and falls into it with a heavy sigh.
Fraser sits on the armchair by the fire, which always used to be her father’s preferred seat, and one Heather would only sit in once she knew he was safely asleep in bed. The power dynamics in her parents’ home have taken a significant turn since she was last here. Her mother reaches over and taps Heather’s knee gently.
‘Your dad’s proud of you, love. I know he doesn’t show it. It’s just not his way. And I also know he regrets what happened between the two of you.’ Her eyes lower. ‘I know I do.’
Heather opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. Her mother fills the silence.
‘We sold that awful taxidermy stuff, Heather. His tremors got too bad for him to work. I’m not sure he even remembers he used to do it. I’m so sorry. I know how much you hated them. I should have stood up to him for your sake. It was a morbid fascination. I now know it was the first sign of a personality change and what was to come. There’s nothing wrong with taxidermy per se, it’s just with your father, he seemed to take it to an extreme. It was as if he was glad when something died. His empathy was on the decline. Maybe, in some ways, it was already on the way out when he reacted as he did to your pregnancy.’
Heather pulls Maisie onto her lap and counsels herself not to cry as her mother continues.
‘I thought I was being loyal to him, you see. He didn’t want anyone knowing about his health struggles, but he was already slowing down when you fell pregnant with Georgia. Outwardly, he blamed Dougie for what was happening at work. But Dougie just picked up on what the other guys already knew. Your dad was making mistakes and losing the firm clients. I think Dougie saw a lack of cognitive functioning in your dad and was calling him out on it and that’s why your dad hated him as he did. There was nowhere to hide under Dougie's scrutiny and, despite the measures he put in place, your dad fell further andfurther behind on his targets. Dougie wanted him to speak to Occupational Health, but your dad fought back. So, I guess it’s not surprising he took it as a betrayal when you decided to marry the man he blamed for his condition.’
Her mother allows Heather some time to process this new information. She glances at Fraser, who smiles in her direction. The idea that it was her father’s illness that initiated the distance between them will take a lot of unpacking.
