Page 6 of The Bookshop By the Loch

“Dad. Are you alright? What is it? What’s wrong?”

My grandfather’s expression was tense.

I crouched down in front of him, still seated in his favourite armchair. “Are you ok, Grandpa? Aren’t you feeling well?”

“No, lass, I’m fine,” he managed after a pause, his attention focused over my shoulder at the burble coming from the TV. “Or at least I was until I saw that.”

I gazed up at Mum from my crouched position, but she was also now staring at the television with a strange expression on her face. “Mum?”

I got up from the carpet and turned to look at the TV. “Please tell me all six of our lottery numbers have come up.”

It took a few seconds for my eyes to register what I was looking at – or should I say, who I was looking at – in glorious colour. The craggy smile, pointed chin and sun-weathered complexion.

I blinked for several seconds. No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be him.

Chapter Three

It was my father, reporting for the national news, with the dazzling White House and its swathe of lawns laid out behind him.

My eyes ricocheted from him, as I listened to his throaty voice, to the well-cut navy pinstriped suit, pale shirt and slick of silky olive-green tie he was wearing. He was talking about the US president’s forthcoming visit to Europe.

Along the bottom of the screen, the ticker stated, Niall Dunbar, Washington Correspondent.

The last I heard, he was working for some big broadsheet newspaper in San Francisco, when he deigned to award me the odd phone call, birthday and Christmas card; that was when he happened to remember. I would read them with indifference, before shredding them and tossing them in the bin.

You don’t miss what you’ve never had.

I gawped back at the image on the screen. I knew I resembled my father. My eyes mirrored his, a bright light grey, as did my quizzical brows and wide mouth. Sometimes, I caught Mum studying me when she thought I wasn’t looking. No doubt seeing the echoes of her ex-husband in her only daughter.

Mum had paled. She pushed a hunk of dark hair behind one ear. “Turn it off please, Dad.”

My grandfather stared up at her from his armchair.

“I said, turn it off. Now!”

Then she fled out of the sitting room and back through to the kitchen. Grandpa snatched up the remote control and jabbed it at the TV. My father’s image vanished.

“For Christ’s sake. Just when I thought we might have seen the last of that bastard… Pity this thing hadn’t been a bloody light sabre,” grumbled my grandpa under his breath. I watched him slam the remote back down on the little mahogany table beside him. “Still, looks like he finally got what he wanted: up the front on the telly. That man always had to be the centre of attention.”

I shot a worried look towards the kitchen, where I could hear my mother muttering to herself and bashing things around. “I’ll go and check on Mum.”

“Aye, thanks, lass. I’ll be through in a minute.”

We’d heard through the journalistic grapevine that my father had had a few dalliances with glamorous colleagues over the years, but had never remarried. Neither had my mother.

Mum was thumping three mugs around in the kitchen, her expression pinched. “Can you believe that?” she shot over her shoulder. “Just when I think I’ve put him behind me, up he pops again like a bloody Jack-in-the-box!”

She swung round to face me. Her rich blue eyes threatened to leak furious tears. “It’s been years. I think the last time I saw him was when he had that feature and his photo in The Mail.” She returned to clashing the mugs. “I think it was some piece he’d written about politicians’ expenses.” Her voice wobbled.

I dashed over and slipped one arm around her shoulders. “If you bang those any harder, Mum, they’ll hear you in Australia.”

She thrust the kettle under the tap to fill it. “Well, looks like he’s done well for himself. Swanning around in the States and on TV too.” She fought to keep her voice steady. “Did you see that suit he was wearing? I bet that wasn’t out of some cheap catalogue.”

Then her shoulders dipped under her fitted top.

“Mum?”

She closed her eyes for a few moments. “Despite everything, despite him walking out on us like that…” Her voice faded.