Chapter 18
18
Returning to Willowdale Hall after Sunday lunch at Georgia’s, I poked my head round the library door to let Oliver and Rosie know I was back. Alice and Xander were with them.
‘Just the person!’ Rosie said, inviting me to join them. ‘Mum has just been telling me about your brilliant suggestion to turn the boat house into a luxury retreat.’
‘But I’m bound to have missed some of it out,’ Alice added. ‘You tell them what you told me, Mel.’
‘You like the idea?’ I asked.
‘We love it,’ Oliver said, giving me that fizz of excitement I always got when a client enthused about an idea.
‘In that case, I did some rough sketches last night so let me grab those. It’s always easier to explain when there’s something to look at.’
I returned minutes later with my iPad and sketchbook and ran through what I’d drawn, showing the photos I’d taken of the boat house on my iPad to compare what was there now and what it could become. My cheeks glowed with the compliments about the quality of my sketches, the attention to detail in such a short space of time and the proposal itself.
‘It’s a big thumbs up from us,’ Rosie said. ‘I reckon we should get the plans submitted to the LPA as soon as possible, get it sorted and get it earning.’
Oliver nodded his agreement. ‘I can’t imagine there’ll be a problem with approval and this would be a great way of getting some income in to invest in the rest of the build.’
The LPA was the Local Planning Authority whose role it was to approve (or refuse) plans to build something new, make a major change to an existing building or change a building’s use. Oliver and Rosie already had a designated contact who they’d spoken to last year when they first made the decision to develop the estate. He hadn’t anticipated any problems in principle with the planned redevelopment, which was good news. Having worked with many different LPAs and planning officers over the years, I knew that what we’d be proposing for the boat house would be straightforward and unlikely to trigger any objections. As there was nothing Oliver, Rosie, Alice or Xander wanted to change about my proposals, my next step was to contact our builder, Dougie Standish, to run them by him before submitting them to the LPA.
‘Could be tricky to fit in, Mel,’ Dougie said when I called him the following day. ‘I wasn’t expecting to start work on the inside of the hall until the back end of the year and we’re stacked up.’
‘It won’t need a huge team. Is there no way you can shift a few things around?’
He sighed and tutted but eventually conceded that he might be able to squeeze something in. He needed a few days before he could confirm it for definite so I couldn’t do anything except get the plans into as good a shape as possible and wait.
Dougie wasn’t the only one I was waiting on. Mum and Dad hadn’t come back to me following my request to meet up one day this week. I’d been determined not to pester them but, by mid-morning on Wednesday and still no word, I rang them on their landline. There was no answer so I left a message. When there was still no word by late afternoon, I sent Dad a text.
To Dad
Hope you’ve settled back in OK after your hols. How’s your week shaping up? My diary is starting to fill up so I wondered if you have a day that’s best. Can make it next week if you prefer x
A response came back an hour later.
From Dad
Will come back to you later
I noted the absence of a kiss but knew better than to read anything into it. Dad had been a reluctant convert to using a mobile phone and lamented that he still preferred life without one. Whenever he sent texts, he used as few words as possible, never used emojis and didn’t include kisses – not even in messages to Mum.
I rang their landline on Thursday morning and got the answerphone again but didn’t leave a message. By Friday morning, I was extremely frustrated. They’d had plenty of time to settle back in and I’d already given them the opportunity to pick next week if this one didn’t suit. How could I try to rebuild our relationship if they weren’t willing to spend any time with me other than when the whole family were around? Phone calls weren’t working and neither were texts so more direct action was clearly needed. I pulled my coat on and set off to theirs, my footsteps fuelled by anger.
‘Mel?’ Dad stood in the doorway of Derwent Rise, frowning at me. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘You never came back to me so I thought I’d come to you.’ I could hear the accusation in my words and winced inwardly. This wasn’t a great start.
‘It’s not a good time. We’re going out shortly.’
I wasn’t going to be fobbed off again. ‘Anywhere exciting?’
He hesitated for a moment. ‘Not really.’
‘Then you won’t be in a rush to get there.’
Dad had left sufficient room for me to step into the hall without having to shove past him, so that’s what I did, reassuring him, ‘I won’t keep you long.’
Mum was in the lounge with her Kindle resting on her knee. She must have heard my voice as she was looking in my direction expectantly, her brow furrowed.
‘I’m sorry for turning up unannounced,’ I said, adrenaline pumping through me that I was about to give my parents a piece of my mind – something I’d never done. ‘I know that me moving away and staying away has hurt you and I know I’ve been shockingly bad at coming back to visit or even keeping in regular contact. I have reasons but reasons are just excuses and… anyway, I’m back here now and I know I have a lot of making up to do, but how can I be expected to do that if you refuse to even see me? You said you’d?—’
Dad held up his hand to stop me mid-flow. ‘Not everything is about you,’ he said, his voice strong.
‘I know that, and I’m trying to make this about you two, but you have to let me try. I had no idea about your pain or your mobility, Mum, and seeing you at your eightieth was a massive eye-opener for me. I realised how much I’d missed out on by not being around – by not being part of this family anymore. And then when you mentioned everyone in your speech – including Arlo who isn’t even born yet – but didn’t mention me, I felt the full force of being on the outside. And I get that. I did that to myself and I can’t change it but I can try to show how sorry I am.’
My voice had got higher and more garbled but I was thrown by them both just staring at me, open-mouthed, not saying anything, and the nerves had taken over. I paused for breath but the adrenaline flowed from me and my voice came out unsteady.
‘I don’t want to make an issue of what happened at your birthday because I do understand why you did it. I know it’s not something we’re going to be able to resolve over one cup of tea but I do desperately want to make amends. Me asking to see you this week was meant to be the starting point and I really thought you’d at least give me a chance to try.’
I’d completely run out of steam and my legs felt wobbly. I wanted to sit down but I could hardly do that now after I’d barged in without invitation and let rip.
‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t meant to blurt all that out.’
‘I think you’d better sit down,’ Dad said.
‘Are you sure?’
He nodded solemnly and I sank gratefully into the armchair as he sat on the sofa beside Mum.
‘That was quite a speech,’ Mum said. ‘There’s a lot to discuss but we really don’t have the time to do that now. There’s a good reason why your dad didn’t come back to you with a date this week and I can assure you it’s nothing to do with not wanting to see you. We do want to spend time with you and, yes, we’re hurt but we’re not clueless or selfish or anything else you might be thinking. We know you wouldn’t have stayed away or cut yourself off unless you needed to and, looking back, we could have done a lot more to help you through your pain at the time, so please don’t think for one minute that you’re the only one who has amends to make. We do too.’
‘So why couldn’t we meet this week?’ I asked when the explanation didn’t seem to be forthcoming.
‘While we were on holiday, I…’ Mum paused and took hold of Dad’s hand, looking at him beseechingly.
‘Your mum found a lump in her breast,’ Dad said, squeezing Mum’s hand.
My stomach lurched and I wrung my hands, fear preventing me from forming any words.
‘The not-very-exciting place we’re going to shortly is the hospital for a scan,’ Dad continued. ‘We didn’t want to say anything to any of you as we don’t want to scare anyone unnecessarily if it’s nothing sinister.’
‘Did your doctor say anything?’ My voice sounded like it was coming from a distance.
‘She could feel the lump but she can’t give any sort of diagnosis just from that, but we’ll know soon enough.’
‘I can’t believe I barged in here and lectured you when you’re dealing with that. I’m so sorry.’
I was furious with myself for letting the fiery side of me take over. Dad had said he’d be in touch and I should have accepted that but I’d let my overactive imagination take over, fuelled by paranoia over the birthday speech and the holiday gift. Even though Georgia had explained the story behind the gifts, and she and Regan had separately said that the speech would not have been intentional, both incidents had obviously been niggling at me.
‘I’ll let you get ready for the hospital,’ I said, rising from the chair. ‘Any chance we can pretend I was never here, you never heard my pathetic little rant, and we can start over again when you’re ready?’
Mum gave me a weak smile and it struck me how pale she was. Her eyes were watery with dark circles below them. She didn’t look at all well.
‘The rant, as you call it, won’t be forgotten,’ she said, ‘because I think you needed to say it and we needed to hear it. As I said, there’s a lot to discuss but there’s one thing I need to pick up on now and then we have to get going.’
She glanced at Dad and he nodded.
‘I can’t apologise enough for not naming you in my birthday speech. It was my intention to mention you all and I hadn’t realised I’d missed you out until your dad pointed it out afterwards.’
‘We figured that if you’d noticed, you’d have said something to Georgia,’ Dad said, ‘and she’d have mentioned it to us, but nothing was said so we assumed – hoped – you hadn’t realised.’
I didn’t know what to say. It seemed so unimportant now when Mum could have breast cancer.
‘I’d better let you get ready,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve found a lump, Mum. You will let me know what they say at the hospital?’
‘We will. And can you not say anything to Georgia in the meantime? We’ll tell her, but we’d rather do that face to face if it’s bad news.’
I nearly said, I’m sure it won’t be , but it would be such a throwaway comment when none of us could be sure of anything.
‘I hope it’s positive news.’
‘So do we.’ Mum beckoned me over. ‘I could use a hug.’
Dad stood up so that I could take his place to hug Mum. If twisting round caused her any pain, she didn’t show it and I was grateful for the tightness of her hold.
‘We’ll let you know what they say at the hospital,’ Dad said as he walked me to the door. ‘But it might not be immediately. Good or bad, we’ll need time to take it in.’
‘Whenever you’re ready. I’m sorry again for barging in today.’
‘And I’m sorry that it looked like I was fobbing you off. I was so focused on your mum that I didn’t pause to think about how you might be feeling.’
‘It’s not important, given Mum’s news.’
‘It is, because you’re important and we haven’t made you feel that way recently. Whatever happens today, we’ll definitely have some time together next week.’
‘Okay. I hope it goes well today.’
‘Whatever comes our way, we’ll deal with it.’
Dad hugged me and I wished I could have held him for longer because I’d just noticed how shattered he looked too. With Dad being so fit and agile and having a youthful face, it was easy to forget that he was four years older than Mum.
I paused at the bottom of their drive, looking back at the house my parents loved and where I’d had such a happy childhood. When I left Flynn, Mum and Dad insisted I stay with them instead of being on my own in a B&B. Even though I knew it came from a place of love and concern, being constantly asked if I was all right was too stifling. There were photos of Noah everywhere and they lit a scented candle in his memory every night. My logical mind told me that everyone grieved differently and this was their way, but it was too much for me. I was struggling to deal with my own grief and certainly couldn’t support them with theirs. My strongest memories of Derwent Rise were therefore those dark days before I moved to Newcastle. I wished I’d declined their offer to stay. If I had, maybe I’d have come back and visited more often – perhaps even stayed with my parents instead of at Georgia’s – because I wouldn’t have associated Derwent Rise with one of my lowest points.
I hoped beyond hope that Mum’s lump wasn’t cancerous. She already had so much back pain to deal with and I feared she wouldn’t be able to cope with chemotherapy or radiotherapy or whatever course of treatment was needed.
A stiff drink would be very welcome right now but we were still some way off lunchtime. Did pubs even serve alcohol at this time of the day? It wasn’t the answer even if they did, but a strong coffee and a cake at The White Willow might give some much-needed comfort.
It was reasonably busy inside the café. Most customers seemed to be enjoying scones or cakes and a few were tucking into breakfast. A member of staff directed me to a table for two tucked round a corner and ran through the specials. There was a huge selection of tray bakes and sponge cakes behind a glass counter and I was particularly drawn to the white chocolate and raspberry cake.
Eating on my own didn’t bother me but I always felt conspicuous during that period between placing the order and waiting for it to arrive, and reading took that feeling away. It also stopped me from thinking about things I didn’t want to think about. Because I hadn’t expected to come here, I didn’t have a book with me. Eager for a distraction, I looked round at the décor, thinking about whether I’d have done anything different if I’d been refurbishing the café and concluding that I wouldn’t have.
Thankfully service was efficient and my espresso and cake arrived. As I placed the first delicious forkful into my mouth, the door opened and a woman walked in and requested a table for two. A man joined her moments later and I swallowed the cake a little too quickly, grabbing my drink to wash it down before I started coughing and he looked over. Of all the days our paths could have crossed again, why did today have to be the one?