Chapter 17
Sunday dawned and Carrie was up early. She’d struggled to sleep.
Poppy’s birthday always brought worries about her daughter’s relationship with her dad to the forefront of her mind; this year these thoughts were added to having watched Michael with Layla and seen what a genuinely good and involved father behaved like.
Was it something about her which sent the men in her life running in the opposite direction?
She hadn’t heard from her own father for more than thirty years.
He’d never tried to get in contact with her or her mother, and now Tony seemed to be doing his best to spend as little time with Poppy as possible.
Her phone beeped with a message from her mum, Ellen, checking to see how she and Poppy were. Thank goodness for her mum. She gave a little smile before replying: Time for a chat?
A few seconds later, her mum video called.
“Hello, darling,” she said. “Look at you all tanned! You look so healthy!”
“Thank you! I’ve been spending more time outside. Poppy loves the beach here.”
“Of course she does. Cornish beaches are the best in the world. Now, how are you?”
“I’m good,” Carrie said. “Feeling a bit weird today, thinking about Dad.”
“What about him?” asked Ellen, instantly more alert.
Carrie felt herself clam up like she always did on the few occasions she’d tried to speak with her mum about her father.
She had to continue now she’d started though and her mum would want to know how she felt.
She took a deep breath before answering, “Just . . . never being able to find out why he left us. Why he thought a life with someone else would be better . . .”
“Oh, sweetheart, does it matter why?”
“Maybe not . . .”
“We were better off without him,” Ellen said, firmly. “I’ll never understand how he could have abandoned you like that.”
Carrie felt the corners of her eyes begin to prick.
“Hey,” said Ellen gently, concern etched all over her face. “What’s brought this on?”
“I’m not sure.” Carrie sighed. “I guess I’ve just always wanted to speak with him. To find out why he did what he did, and, I suppose, if he regrets it. Tony going off to Germany for the summer has made me think about it more, I suppose.”
“You know my feelings about Tony, but even I can see that what he’s doing isn’t in the same league as your father’s actions.”
“I know.”
Ellen said, quietly, “You never told me you wanted to see him.”
“I didn’t want to upset you. I know how much he hurt you,” Carrie explained. “I don’t want to forgive him and fall sobbing into his arms or anything. Just to see him and talk with him. But when someone disappears on you, that’s sort of hard to do.”
Ellen was silent for a moment before she said, “I have an address for him. An old address. I’ve got no idea if he’s still there or not.”
Carrie felt her heart leap up into her throat. “You have?”
“Yes, a few years after your father left, a mutual friend gave it to me. I have no idea how she got it. I imagine he needed something from her and so had got in touch. Anyway, she felt bad knowing and gave it to me, presumably expecting me to go and chase him down and attempt to drag him back to us. Needless to say, I didn’t do that.
I would have given it to you before if I’d known how you felt, but you said you never wanted anything to do with him. I can hunt it out for you if you like.”
“Would you? Are you OK doing that?” The last thing Carrie wanted to do was to hurt her mum’s feelings. Her father’s actions had done that enough.
“Yes,” Ellen said, resolutely. “I’ll go and look for it now and message it to you.”
“Thank you, Mum. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
* * *
Carrie tried to focus on anything other than watching her phone, but it was pointless. As she emptied the dishwasher and tidied up, she paced around, glancing at it lying on the kitchen counter like it was going to explode.
Finally, after about a quarter of an hour, her mum sent the address.
Carrie sent her thanks and then quickly put the address into Google Maps — her father was, or had been, living in a small town in Somerset, about half an hour’s drive south of Bristol .
. . It would take about three hours to get there by car . . . Which meant it was doable in a day.
Carrie shook her head; she was being ridiculous.
She’d waited more than thirty years to meet her father and could wait a while longer.
There was absolutely no need for her to rush into anything.
But then she was hardly rushing. She’d waited a long time to be able to do this, or potentially do this .
. . She shook her head at herself. There was no guarantee that her father would still be living at the address her mum had .
. . But she had to try, didn’t she? Even if he wasn’t there, maybe she’d be able to find out where he was.
Plus it was a Sunday and she didn’t need to open the shop. It was the ideal day for a road trip.
A day stuck in the car wouldn’t exactly be much fun for a six-year-old though.
It would definitely be easier if she didn’t have Poppy with her.
She felt selfish saying that, but it was true.
It could also be quite an emotional encounter, which she didn’t want Poppy witnessing, and just how would she explain to her what was going on?
Maybe it would be better to leave it until another time . . . Or not to go at all.
Poppy came bounding down the stairs. “Good morning, Mummy!” she said enthusiastically, coming over to give Carrie a hug.
“Good morning, Pumpkin.” Carrie kissed her daughter’s head, taking a second to appreciate how incredibly lucky she was to have her.
“Shall we go out and get some croissants from the bakery for breakfast? We could eat them down by the harbour.” She hadn’t taken Poppy down to the town’s little harbour, which lay in the opposite direction to where they tended to walk on the beach.
“Yes, please!” Poppy ran off to get dressed.
Carrie watched her go and resolved to put aside thoughts of visiting her father for a little while.
It wouldn’t be fair to drag Poppy off on a potential wild goose chase.
She’d go when they were back in London and her mum could look after Poppy for the day.
But, oh, it was painful finally having a lead on how she could find her father and not being able to do anything about it!
They headed out to the bakery, which already had a small queue forming outside. They joined the end of it stoically and were on about their twentieth round of rock, paper, scissors, when Poppy said, “Look, Mummy! It’s Michael and Monty!”
Carrie looked in the direction her daughter was pointing and, sure enough, Michael and Monty were walking towards them.
“Hello, you two!” Michael said when they got closer. “Lining up for a treat?”
“We’re getting croissants,” said Poppy.
“And coffee for me,” Carrie added. “Join us? We were going to walk down to the harbour and eat our breakfast there.”
Michael gave an easy shrug. “I’ve already eaten, but I never turn down a second breakfast.”
The queue moved quickly and Michael waited outside with Poppy and Monty while Carrie went inside the shop, soon reappearing with their goodies.
Poppy was dissuaded from carrying the bag of still warm croissants, which she held at very convenient dog mouth height, by being allowed to hold Monty’s lead, and the group walked down to the harbour where they sat lined up on the stone wall enjoying the sun and the flaky, buttery pastries.
“Thank you for this,” Michael said, before taking another sip of the coffee Carrie had got him.
“You’re very welcome,” said Carrie.
“Mummy?” said Poppy. “Can I take Monty down to look over there?” She pointed towards the end of the harbour wall where a load of seagulls perched.
“If it’s OK with Michael,” Carrie said.
“Fine by me,” he said.
“Just stay where we can see you!” Carrie added as Poppy and Monty headed off together.
“You good?” Michael asked, once Poppy was out of ear shot. “You seem quiet.”
“Just processing.” Carrie reassured him with a little smile. “It turns out that my mum’s got an address for my dad. It means I might be able to find him.”
“You didn’t know she had it before?”
Carrie shook her head. “I’d always told her I had no interest in seeing my father. I didn’t want to upset her, but . . .”
“It’s natural that you’d want to see him,” Michael said, gently. “You were so little when he left that you can’t have any real memories of him . . .”
“Exactly,” Carrie said. “I’ve kind of always just wanted to speak with him, you know. Anyway, Mum’s given me this address in Somerset. It’s really old, he might well not even still be there, but I want to go and see.”
“Would you like me to come with you?” Michael asked immediately.
“That’s . . .” began Carrie. “That’s so good of you, but no. I really think this is something I need to do by myself, you know?”
Michael nodded. “I get that. Have you decided when you’re going to go?”
“Not anytime soon. I’ll wait until I’m back in London and organise for my mum to have Poppy for the day.”
“Are you OK putting it off?”
“Not really,” Carrie admitted, “but I don’t want to bring Poppy with me. It’s a long drive and I have no idea what sort of reception I’m going to get.”
“I’ll have Poppy,” Michael said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course I will. Any day.”
Carrie went to open her mouth to protest and was rewarded with a stern look.
“If you’re happy for me to look after her, I’ll have her.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He checked his watch. “It’s still early . . . and you’re not working in the shop today . . .”
Carrie threw him a grateful look. “That would be amazing,” she said.
“Poppy!” Michael called, and the little girl waved. She said something to Monty and the pair ran back.
“Your mum needs to go for a long drive to visit someone. Would you like to spend the rest of the day with me and Monty and the cats?”
“Sure!” she said, passing Monty’s lead to him.
“I’ve got a couple of book repairs to do, but you can help me with those, and then we can go out for a drive to some of the bays with a picnic.”
“That sounds awesome!” said Poppy, excitedly. “Can Monty come?”
“Of course,” said Michael. “Monty loves picnics.” He looked to Carrie for confirmation that she was happy with the plans.
She nodded and mouthed, “Thank you.”