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I don’t want to do it. But not seeing him is cowardly, and I’m bigger than that now.
I bury my face in Titus’s chest. As long as he comes with me, I’ll be okay.
*
A few days later, it’s my turn to face my parents.
The weather mirrors my mood—gray and blustery. Titus pulls his car up in front of the house, turns off the engine, and looks across at me. “Are you sure about this?”
“No.” I’m shaking like a leaf.
“We can leave at any time. Remember that. He has no control over you now.”
I let out a shaky breath and nod. “Okay.”
“Come on. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
We get out of the car, and he takes my hand. Holding it tightly, I lead him around the side of the house to the deck at the back, and we climb the steps.
“Heidi!” It’s Mum, coming out of the house, and she walks up to me and gives me a big hug. “I’m so glad you came.” I hug her back. Then she turns to Titus and hugs him as well. “Thank you so much for coming,” she says. She gives him a meaningful look that I’m sure means, ‘Thank you for getting Heidi to come.’
“It’s nice to see you again,” he says.
“Come in.” She walks through the open sliding glass doors into the living room.
We follow her, and discover my father already there, standing waiting. His face is wan, and he’s lost a little weight.
I still find it difficult to believe that Dad cried on the phone to Julian. He’s never cried in front of me, and he’s always been so sure of himself. Looking at him now, though, pale and thin, suddenly I know Julian was telling the truth.
Dad watches us walk in and swallows. “Hello.”
“Hello.” I stop by the sofa, hands in my pockets, shoulders hunched. I don’t want to hug him. Fuck me, this is horrible.
Titus clears his throat. “Hello, Mr. Huxley.”
“Peter, please.” He holds out his hand, and Titus shakes it. “Can we get you a drink?” Dad asks. “Tea, coffee, or something stronger? Heidi? Would you like a gin and tonic or something?”
Although Dad loves whisky, and was keen to train Oliver to appreciate a fine malt, he would lecture me for hours if he heard I’d been drinking. So for him to offer me a G&T is a surprise.
“Coffee will be fine,” I say. “Thank you.”
“And for me,” Titus says.
“Let’s go into the kitchen,” Mum says brightly, “we can sit at the table.”
We follow her out there, and Titus and I sit. I glance over at the kitchen worktop. This is where Titus first kissed me, all those years ago, when I was sixteen. He grins at me, and I know he’s remembering, too.
I’ve come a long way since then. I’m a qualified teacher, and I’ve moved to the other side of the world, where I manage very well on my own. Titus is right—Dad has no control, and no power over me now. It gives me courage, and I try to relax a little.
“How are Grandma and Grandpa?” I ask. Mum’s parents are staying with them while they’re in New Zealand.
Mum turns the coffee machine on. Usually Dad leaves her to it, but this time he gets the milk out and starts pouring it into a jug while she makes the espresso. “They’re good,” Mum says. “They’ve gone down to Matamata to see the Hobbiton set. They’ll be back tomorrow. They enjoyed the wedding.”
I glance at Dad. He doesn’t look up and concentrates on steaming the milk.
“It was good to see Huxley finally tying the knot with Elizabeth,” Titus says. “It’s been a long time coming, and they seem very happy together.”
“We’re looking forward to having another grandchild, aren’t we?” Helene asks Peter.
