AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘For as long as it takes. I won’t stop, because if this had happened tome, ifIwas the one no one could find, Finn would never give up until he found me.’
Dad’s sigh needed no words. It spoke volumes.
‘Lunch is almost ready.’
It was a relief to escape from the look in his eyes as I crossed the hallway to the dining room. There was a large oak tree in the garden that kept the room permanently in shadow, so even though it was summer, I automatically reached for the light switch. The bulb glowed with unexpected brilliance for a moment before expiring with a small ping. I dumped the cutlery on the dining room table and headed for the stairs.
‘I’m dishing up,’ warned Dad from the kitchen.
‘I’m just getting a new bulb from the cupboard in the spare room,’ I replied, taking the stairs at a run.
‘Okay. Oh, no. Actually, hang on, Gemma. Let me get it. Please.’
‘I’m there now,’ I called down from the upstairs landing, frowning at the inexplicable anxiety in his voice. Except it wasn’t inexplicable for long. I opened the door to the spare bedroom, which had admittedly become a bit of a dumping ground over the last few years. And never more so than today.
‘Oh,’ I said, my voice a soft exclamation as I rocked on my heels just inside the doorway.
My eyes scanned the room. There was a small double bed in there. It was where Dad had insisted Finn slept, that first time I brought him home. Only I couldn’t see the bed now, for it was lost beneath a mountain of wrapped gifts. All of them unopened. Dad hadn’t mentioned the wedding presents, and I’d certainly not thought to ask what had happened to them. It must have taken him ages to carry them all up there, which I now realised he must have done so I wouldn’t be confronted with yet another reminder of the wedding that never was.
There was a curious sweetness in the air that I could practically taste on my tongue, and even before I turned around, I knew where it was coming from. I heard the slow thud of Dad’s footsteps climbing the stairs and had just enough time to swipe a hand beneath my eyes to brush away my tears. His hand felt warm on my shoulder as he drew me against his side.
It was the first time I’d seen my wedding cake in real life, and it looked even better than it had in the catalogue we’d picked it from. The presents I could deal with; they were just prettily wrapped packages. But coming face to face with the three-tiered creation covered in delicate run-outs that made it look as though it was draped in lace was just too much.
‘Why is this here? Why didn’t it get eaten at the reception?’
Dad’s voice was thick. He was clearly hoping to have avoided this one today.
‘No one could face cutting it, sweetheart, much less eating it. It seemed… wrong somehow.’
I swallowed several times, until the lump in my throat was small enough to let me speak. ‘Well, I hope you still like fruit cake with your tea, because it looks like you’ll be eating it for the next couple of years.’
The hand resting on my shoulder squeezed it warmly. I didn’t need to turn my head to know he was shaking his.
I drew in a deep breath and took one last look at the bride and groom standing side by side on the top tier in a way Finn and I had never got to do. I’d declared the figures too cheesy, but Finn had said it wouldn’t be a proper wedding cake without them. I reached out a finger and gently touched the groom figurine.
‘Can you arrange for this to go to that care home on the edge of town?’ I asked softly. ‘It’s a shame for it to go to waste.’
*
My appetite had gone, but I still ate every last morsel on my plate, because Dad was worried enough about me and didn’t need to add ‘potential eating disorder’ to the list. We got as far as the apple crumble without venturing on to any conversational quicksand. When we did, it came from a chance comment I made about the bunch of bright orange gerberas Dad had placed in a vase in the middle of the dining room table.
‘Those are gorgeous.’
‘I took your mum a bunch this morning, and they looked so nice, I bought a second one for here.’
‘Was it quiet there this morning? I imagine you must have had quite a lot to tell Mum this week.’
Dad’s smile was tender, the way it was whenever he spoke of his weekly visits. ‘It’s always quiet that early. There’s seldom anyone else—’ He broke off suddenly, as though he’d almost stepped into a yawning chasm. He blinked several times, the way people do when they can’t quite make out what they’re looking at. As the only thing in front of him was his empty dinner plate, I assumed that whatever he was seeing was in his head, rather than the dining room.
‘What is it, Dad? Is something wrong?’
He took several moments to come back from wherever it was his thoughts had led him. ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head back and forth. ‘It’s nothing.’
It clearly wasn’t nothing. But it was just as obvious that he wasn’t going to share whatever was bothering him with me.
‘Really. It’s nothing,’ he repeated, getting to his feet so quickly he almost tripped over Chester, who was never far away from a table full of food. ‘Let’s take our coffees into the garden, shall we? It’s a lovely afternoon.’
I was being steered – none too subtly – away from the topic, but because I loved him, and because he was all I had left right now, I allowed him to do it.
