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Callum stared at his father. He knew better than to argue about it. ‘Okay, fine.’ He decided it was time to leave before his father forgot who he was. ‘I’d better go now.’ Callum stood up.
His father grabbed his hand. ‘You won’t forget – will you?’
It would have been funny, hearing him ask that question, if it hadn’t been so sad.
Chapter 15
‘Callum, are you all right?’
Callum swivelled around. He was seated at his father’s desk in his study. ‘No, not really.’
‘I know … it’s hard, isn’t it?’
Callum looked at his mum.That’s an understatement, he thought.
She stood in the doorway. ‘How was he?’
Callum decided to spare her the details. He had been about to put the key in his father’s desk drawer when she’d walked in. He’d quickly slipped the keys into his jacket pocket. For some reason, he’d thought it best not to repeat the odd conversation, or let her know he had a spare set of keys to the campervan in the garage.
Callum looked around the study, his eyes returning to the desk. He doubted there was anything of much consequence in the desk drawer. His father’s words had just been the sad ramblings of dementia. ‘What are you going to do with all this, Mum?’ Callum was wondering if the books and equipment might be worth something. ‘Are you going to clear out the study and redecorate?’
‘The thought has crossed my mind.’
Callum wasn’t surprised. The study still had the old wallpaper and carpet from years ago. Stepping inside felt like stepping into a room in another house now the rest of the place had been redecorated and modernised.
She sighed. ‘I think he’d want you to have all this.’
‘You left all this for me?’
She nodded. ‘Of course. It’s something you used to love doing as a child.’ She cast a gaze at the book he’d bound. ‘I think you still do.’
Callum offered up a weak smile. It was true, although that was not what he’d been thinking while he was sitting there looking around the study. He felt a little guilty that rather than contemplating the idea of running his father’s bookbinding business, he’d been sitting there thinking how much the books and bookbinding equipment might be worth if he sold them to pay off some debts or even to cover a month or two of the excessive mortgage.
‘He always said that he didn’t see a future for you in show business.’
‘He said that?’
‘I’m afraid so. He said that you’d need something to fall back on when the show was over.’ She cast a gaze around the study. ‘That’s why I left it all just as he told me to, for when you came back.’
Callum stared at his mum. Perhaps that was why neither of them had been thrilled when he’d announced he wanted to be an actor, and why they hadn’t supported him in his choice of career. He cast his gaze around the room, thinking of what she’d just said.
‘Well, it’s all there if you want it. I’ll leave you to mull it over.’
After she had closed the door, Callum got out the key and turned his attention to the desk drawer. He doubted there was anything of value inside; he imagined that all this key business was nothing at all – just something in his father’s mind. Although his father had been back there, obviously in one of his lucid moments, and maybe it was true that he had found something and locked it in the desk drawer for safekeeping. Whatever it was, it was Callum’s now.Oh, how he’d like it to be a big, fat wad of cash, takings from the business that his father had been squirrelling away, hiding from his wife for some reason.
He put the key in the lock and opened the drawer. It was empty. He shook his head. ‘Well, what did you expect?’ he said to the empty room. He shoved the drawer shut and thought he heard something move inside. He opened it again, and there was a wallet. ‘What the—?’
Callum picked up the old, worn brown leather wallet that must have been at the back of the drawer, out of sight. He pulled the drawer right out to reveal something else at the back; a brown envelope. It was addressed to him. Along with the envelope was a small, single sheet of notepaper, folded in two. Callum unfolded the note.
Callum, I have to write this quickly lest I forget what it was I was writing. The memory is frustratingly not what it once was. But I remember now. After all these years, I remember!
I’m leaving you the bookshop.
Callum frowned. ‘What bookshop?’ He was beginning to get the feeling that his father’s return to the house may not have been during one of his lucid moments after all. None of this made sense.
The van is for the girls.
‘The girls?’
