Chapter 6 #2
We walk around the edge of the green and see signs of the village waking up.
A young woman in a ‘My Chemical Romance’ T-shirt walks past, all dyed black hair and multiple piercings.
She waves at us and says: ‘Gorgeous day, isn’t it?
’ Her cheerfulness is slightly at odds with her appearance.
Even the Goth girls are happy in Starshine Cove.
She chats to a blonde-haired woman who looks like she’s been for a run, and while she’s distracted her scruffy-looking little dog sniffs the air, then takes an experimental run at our baked goods.
I hold the boxes aloft, and he tries to jump up and reach them.
His owner looks over, laughing as she catches him and lifts him in her arms, kissing his fuzzy head.
He’s small, brown and white, with fluffy fur that falls from him like a fringe.
He’s adorable, and one of the oddest-looking dogs I’ve ever seen. At least I think it’s a dog.
‘Sorry!’ she says. ‘Larry is a demon for a croissant. Any damage and I’ll happily replace them.’
Her eyes flicker over me, and then onto Guy. He’s a good-looking man but she doesn’t pause, and I guess she takes the wedding ring on her finger seriously.
‘No harm done,’ I assure her. I can practically see the questions burrowing beneath her skin. She’s looking at me as though she’s trying to figure out where she knows me from.
‘Have we met?’ she asks, frowning slightly. ‘You look so familiar…’
‘I just have one of those faces,’ I answer, keen to move on.
It’s exactly this kind of encounter that makes me cringe inside – the complete lack of anonymity.
I’m fairly sure I have never encountered this person before, but I am still familiar to her.
It is impossible to walk from one side of this village to the other without being nabbed by somebody.
‘Okay, best be off!’ I say briskly, not wanting to give her the chance to introduce herself. Because then I’ll feel obliged to do the same, and then her eyes will go all wide as she finally figures it out, and she’ll be all ‘Ooh, I see – you’re George’s long-lost daughter! The bad one!’
Obviously I have no idea if she would do that at all, but I’m not willing to give her the chance.
I judge myself quite enough without other people’s input, thank you very much.
She murmurs goodbye, and I give Larry a little pet before I walk on, Guy silent at my side.
I can feel her eyes on me as I retreat, and fight the urge to do a duck and roll behind the houses and run for the hills.
I do, however, make a little detour via the cottage, and deposit one of the boxes of treats outside the red door. A little good morning surprise for the girls.
‘That’s where I grew up,’ I tell Guy. ‘What a house of horrors, eh?’
I’m mocking myself here, because I now know how he grew up. He gazes at the chocolate-box pretty building with its thatched roof and idyllic garden, and shakes his head. ‘You can’t tell from looking,’ he replies.
We are soon back at my dad’s place, where Bear is now fully awake, and extremely interested in the box I’m carrying. He’s a lot bigger and more insistent than little fluffy Larry was, and I have to be firm with him. He gazes up at me with such woeful disappointment, it almost breaks my heart.
‘Through here, love!’ my dad shouts, obviously hearing the kerfuffle. He emerges from the kitchen fully dressed in well-used but smart cord trousers, a plaid shirt, and fully shined brogues. He always was a bit of a snazzy dresser, my father.
He pauses when he sees Guy at my side, which is totally understandable. I wonder what random thought processes are going through his mind right now – I’ve been home for one night and have somehow already managed to do something totally weird and unpredictable.
‘I brought pastries,’ I say, passing him the box. ‘And, uh, a friend. This is Guy. He’s severely coffee-deprived.’
My dad, to his credit, recovers immediately, closing the distance between us and offering his hand to shake.
‘Pleasure to meet you, Guy – I’m George, Suzie’s dad. I’ve got some bacon on. Can I tempt you with a sandwich while you’re here, the perfect accompaniment to the coffee?’
Guy’s face is completely transformed by this offer, a big, genuine grin making him look like a different human being. Huh. All that deep-and-meaningful mystery man routine was clearly a ruse, because it’s disappeared as quickly as you can say ‘free cooked breakfast’.
‘Yes please, sir. That would be very much appreciated.’
Within minutes, the three of us are settled at the dining table with a small feast, Bear lurking hopefully beneath, moving from one person’s feet to another just in case one of us gets clumsy.
‘What brings you here, Guy?’ my father asks. ‘Or have you come to, uh, visit Suzie?’
I can see that he’s confused and I totally get it.
He has every right to ask a few questions, to be curious, to wonder about the man I just brought into his home.
It’s totally normal, and acceptable, and that tiny part of me that is already bristling at the scrutiny can just shut the hell up and behave itself.
I am not a kid any more, and I need to act like a grown-up.
Normally, I do – but as ever with returning to your childhood home, it seems to somehow tap into long-buried feelings.
‘Uh, no, sir. We actually only met yesterday. I’m here to visit my own daughter.’
It sounds so simple when he puts it like that.
His tone is calm and respectful, no hint of the complexity and pain that I know is whirling just beneath the surface.
I’ve met a few military types over the years, and they’re often very good at hiding what’s really going on with them. Even from themselves, I suspect.
‘Oh, I see! And your daughter lives here, does she?’ my father asks, a frown on his face.
I have zero doubt that he knows the names and histories of every single person who lives in Starshine Cove, and is currently trying to figure out the connections.
There are holiday cottages here, or at least there used to be, and some people only live here part time, but my dad is still likely to be the closest thing to a census that the village has.
‘Yes. She’s called Miranda.’
My dad’s eyes go wide, and I see him making the effort to control his reaction. I hope against hope that he manages, that he doesn’t judge, that the famous Starshine protective streak doesn’t result in him deciding that Guy is a threat to someone he cares about.
‘Oh, Miranda! She’s been here a while now, lovely girl. And little Evan of course – he’s a joy! Has us all on our toes now he’s so mobile. Quite the little Tonka Trunk!’
‘Really?’ Guy says, a flicker of a smile on his face. ‘I… I haven’t met him yet. It’s been a while, since I saw Miranda. She wants to take it slowly.’
My father nods, and gives us all a few seconds of respite by getting the pastries out of the box and putting them out on a serving plate.
‘Well, you’re here now, and that’s what matters,’ he says, and I wonder which of us he’s talking to.
I don’t suppose it makes much difference – the same could apply to us both.
‘I’m sure you’ll have plenty to catch up on.
Connie’s son James is close to her. We’re all wondering if they’ll find a place together. ’
I see Guy absorbing the new information, like he’s a starving man and someone just offered him some scraps. ‘Connie is my, uh, sister-in-law?’ I say. Does that still apply if the brother is long gone? ‘She runs the café.’
Guy nods, and I see him turning things over in his mind, piecing them together. How we all relate to each other, and now his own daughter. Little did we know when our paths first crossed that they’d end up running parallel.
‘Where are you staying, Guy?’ my dad asks, pouring him another coffee from the pot.
‘I spent last night in Suzie’s car,’ he replies, grimacing.
‘It’s a VW Bug,’ I add, explaining the grimace. ‘Called Bettina.’
My father’s bright blue eyes sparkle as he grins at me. ‘Your mum’s was a camper van called Barbara.’
‘I know, I remember the stories. It was probably a bit easier to sleep in than mine.’
‘Definitely for a tall chap like Guy here. We have a spare room, you know, Guy – you’d be more than welcome.’
I keep my gaze averted as he considers this. I already know what the answer will be.
‘Thank you, sir, that’s very generous of you – but I have my tent, the weather’s good, and I’m more than happy to camp.’
‘Ah. Another independent type, I see. Well, Archie has some land he uses for his gardening projects, and we all have gardens too. Assuming you don’t need to be out in the wilderness?’
‘No, I’m happy to be close to civilisation. Even the toughest of us like to have a hot shower every now and then.’
‘That we can provide, Guy! Help yourself to the facilities, and come and go as you like. We don’t bother with keys or any of that nonsense. Is there anything else I can do for you?’
I pick at my croissant, not sure if I’m impressed or horrified at how efficiently my dad is taking control. No, that’s not quite right – taking control sounds too negative, and nothing he is doing, nothing he is offering, is anything other than kindness.
‘Not right now, sir, thank you. Is there anything I can offer in return? I’m good with practical things, not bad with engines, happy to provide free labour, anything that’s needed.’
‘First of all, you can stop calling me “sir”. I used to be a teacher and you’re giving me flashbacks! George will do just fine. As for the free labour, there’s always something that needs doing around here – I’ll check with Connie when she’s back later.’
‘Same goes for me, Dad,’ I add in quickly. ‘You know I don’t do well if I’m idle. I’ll start writing bad poetry or paint the bedroom black. Anything you need a hand with?’
‘Probably, yes. I… What have you been up to recently, Suzie? You’ve had so many jobs I lost track!’
This is not a dig. It is not a passive aggressive insult, nor is it a criticism. My stupid brain wants to interpret it like that, but I refuse to engage. This is my father, asking a simple question. One that he has every right to ask.
‘Well, like you say, Dad, I’ve had a lot of jobs. Tour guide, barmaid, noodle chef, dog walker, fruit picker… All kinds of delights. But most recently, before I started back home, I spent three years in India volunteering at a school.’
His face lights up, and he immediately exclaims: ‘Teaching! Oh, how wonderful, Suzie – I bet the kids loved you!’
I smile as I remember my time there, the happy faces and laughter, the sense of celebration that they always seemed to have, no matter how hard times were. I remain convinced that some of those kids have enough attitude and determination that they may well go on to run the world.
‘I definitely loved them. So I’m okay to help out with anything to do with kids. And even though it might be a lot less useful, I can teach yoga and give a fine Thai massage.’
My dad looks delighted with all of this new information, and it suddenly strikes me that it’s the same expression I saw on Guy’s face when my father was talking about Miranda. He is devouring the crumbs.
‘Well, you two sound like a useful pair indeed. I’m sure we’ll have tasks for you. But for now, why don’t you go and show Guy the facilities? I have a hot date with a black Lab, and a coffee morning planned with our local GP.’
‘Why?’ I ask quickly. ‘Are you not well?’
‘I’m absolutely splendid, my dear. She’s a friend, that’s all. A busy lady, but we always make time for each other. Shall we meet later, maybe for dinner?’
Dinner is hours and hours away, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s happening here. George is giving me space, trying hard not to make me feel crowded or trapped. I hate that he feels that way, but I have to acknowledge its wisdom.
‘Aye aye, captain,’ I reply. I look at Guy, then gesture towards the stairs. ‘Let’s be having you, Grandad!’
Guy shoots me a look, and I feign innocence. ‘What? You are a grandad – just stating the facts!’
I show him where the bathroom is, which of course he’d have been perfectly capable of figuring out himself, and also the spare room. I find some towels in the cupboard, and then sit on the bed with a sigh.
‘You okay?’ he asks, raising an eyebrow.
‘Yes. No. Not sure.’
‘Ah. Right.’
He sits next to me, his eyes roaming the room. It still shows signs of its previous life, a My Little Pony poster on the wall and a small selection of children’s books on the shelves.
‘It’s all so solid, isn’t it?’ he says, gazing up at the ceiling. ‘This place. These houses. It all feels so permanent. Not what we’re used to.’
He has a point, and it’s probably why I prefer spending time in trees than indoors.
‘No. Not what we’re used to. But… I feel like I’m at a crossroads, Guy, to be honest. I got sick, while I was away – nothing serious, just one of those bugs that lays you low.
I was out of action for almost a month, and even though everyone was really kind to me, I realised that I felt vulnerable.
I felt like a burden on the people I was supposed to be helping. It was… humbling, I suppose.’
‘Made you wonder what the future might look like?’
‘Exactly that!’ I say, grinning at him. ‘Ten points for the fellow screw-up in the corner! It made me start to question my future. What I really wanted from life, the choices I could make. It was the beginning of a very long, very slow journey home – because even though I kind of knew I was heading here, I was too stubborn to admit it. So I spent months in Europe, visiting friends I’d made over the years who’d settled in various cities, doing my version of a grand tour.
Doing whatever I could to delay the inevitable, because I was just a tiny bit scared of coming home.
Of how he’d react, how others would react. ’
Guy nods and stands up. ‘He seems to have reacted well. You’ve been thinking too much.’
‘Well, duh! It’s one of my things. Are you telling me you don’t do the same?’
‘I have been known too, yes. With me, it’s either I think too much, or I don’t think at all. Now, though, I’m trying to just take everything as it comes.’
‘One foot in front of the other?’
He picks up one of the towels, and I have a quick mental blast of what he might look like in the shower. Yikes. My hormones really are all over the place at the moment.
‘Yeah. One foot in front of the other. Amazing how far it can get you.’