Chapter 31 #2
He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Hospital.’
A tear slipped, hot and sudden, down her cheek. ‘But you were fine.’
‘I thought I might be. With the treatments…’ His eyes were steady, even as his mouth trembled. ‘They did work, in a way. Bought me time. More than I expected, to be honest. I’ve had a few good years, but…’
‘How long?’ she asked.
He hesitated. Looked at the kettle, the fridge, anywhere but her.
‘They don’t like giving numbers,’ he said. ‘Could be a year. Could be two. I feel all right, considering. A bit more tired. Bit more…’ He gestured vaguely at his thin frame. ‘But I’m still here now.’
She couldn’t seem to breathe properly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she burst out.
He flinched, guilt flickering across his face. ‘Because you were a kid,’ he said. ‘Because you’ve already lost one parent. Because I wanted you to enjoy your life without thinking about this. Enjoy all the things you have. Enjoy being with… Callie.’
Under any other circumstances, she might have leapt on that implication, demanded to know what he meant, what he’d noticed. Right now, it slid past.
‘I’m not a kid,’ she said, voice shaking. ‘I could’ve helped. Been there. Held your hand. Not just… sold loaves while you were hooked up to something.’
‘You did help,’ he said fiercely. ‘You kept this place going. You kept me going. You gave me normal. I wanted to do the same for you.’
Some wild, irrational part of Mae wanted to scream at him. For not telling her. For deciding on his own what she could cope with.
But of course, she wouldn’t. She had to swallow it. Just like he did.
‘So that’s it,’ she said eventually. ‘You’re… dying.’
He swallowed. ‘We’re all dying, love.’
‘Don’t,’ she snapped.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Yes. That’s it. Unless they invent something clever in the next year, which, given the state of the NHS, I wouldn’t bank on. I’ve had more time than some. Less than others. I’m trying to be grateful. I’m not very good at it yet.’
She stared at him. The man who’d taught her to count to ten, to ride a bike, held her when she’d hurt herself. How could it possibly be?
She’d always known, in some abstract grown-up way, that he’d die before her. That was how it was supposed to go. You buried your parents eventually. It just wasn’t supposed to be so fucking soon.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and his voice went hoarse. ‘I didn’t want to put this on you. But we have to… plan. Talk about what happens. With the shop. With you.’
The words she’d brought to this conversation suddenly weighed a thousand times more.
I’m not taking over. I’m leaving. I’m going with Callie.
Those words seemed obscene now.
‘This is probably a good time to tell me the thing you wanted to say,’ her dad said.
‘What?’ Mae said, panicked. ‘Nothing.’
‘You’re thinking of leaving,’ he said quietly.
Her heart stuttered. ‘How did you—’
‘I’m ill, love, not blind,’ he said, with a faint twitch of a smile. ‘Part of me wants you to stay. And I know I could ask that right now, and you would. But I won’t ask that. I don’t have the right.’
‘But I obviously can’t go now,’ Mae said.
He pretended she hadn’t said anything. ‘I can’t tell you what to do,’ he said. ‘You’re not a child. You have to choose. It’s your life.’
‘But if I leave…’ The words came out strangled. ‘You’ll… you’ll be here. Working. Sick. Alone.’
‘I won’t be alone,’ he said softly. ‘This village doesn’t let anyone be alone, for good or ill. There’s Tom, and Mrs Kavanagh, and that lot from the pub. I can hire help. I should’ve done it years ago instead of leaning on you like a crutch.’
‘You weren’t—’
‘I was,’ he said. ‘Let’s not pretend otherwise. It was easy having you there. I told myself it was training. Maybe it was. For this. For…’ He faltered. Swallowed. ‘For you to run the place when I’m gone.’
She flinched as if he’d slapped her.
‘Don’t,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t say that.’
‘I have to,’ he said, and his eyes shone suddenly, bright. ‘Because it’s the reality. I don’t have anyone else. No brothers, no cousins… It’s you, or I sell up before… before it gets to the point where you’re dealing with solicitors on top of everything else.’
The thought of the bakery in other hands, maybe even owned by some chain, made her want to throw up. She could see it: the sign changed, the bread worse, the regulars muttering. Her dad’s life’s work dismantled while he was still here to watch.
He saw it in her face.
‘I know it’s not fair,’ he said quietly. ‘That I’m even saying this. I’m not trying to… trap you. If you look at me and say, “Dad, I love you, but I have to go,” it’ll be OK. You and me will be OK.’
She believed him. That was the awful thing. He meant it. He’d sell the bakery if she asked. He’d let go of the thing that had given his days shape for decades.
If she left now, she would spend every day wondering if he was all right. If he’d fallen. If he’d had a bad appointment. If he was sitting alone in the flat upstairs, too proud to ask for help.
She’d be with Callie, yes. She’d be in the life she wanted. She’d also be pulled in half, a constant, gnawing guilt eating away at every good moment. And she might not be here when…
She couldn’t do that. Not to him. Not to herself.
‘I’m not going,’ she whispered.
He flinched again, as if he were trying to stop himself from seizing on it.
‘Don’t decide now,’ he said quickly. ‘Don’t say that just because I’ve dropped this on you. Take a week. Talk to Callie. Think about it properly. I don’t want—’
‘I have thought about it,’ Mae said, and to her own surprise, she meant it. She couldn’t leave.
He grabbed her hand, his grip still surprisingly strong.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I never wanted it to be like this. I wanted you to have the world. I’ve made such a pig’s ear of it.’
She choked out a laugh through the tears. ‘You haven’t.’
‘I have,’ he insisted. ‘But if you’re sure… if this is really what you want…’
It wasn’t, of course. She wanted Callie and a new life she couldn’t even picture yet. She wanted to be more than the girl behind the counter.
But she needed her dad more. She needed to be there for him.
***
Later, in her room, she sat on the edge of her bed in the dark, phone in her hand, feeling as if she were two different people.
One was the daughter, thinking about how to ease his load. Weekday mornings, delivery days, appointments. Making sure he ate. Making sure he rested.
The other was the girl who’d let herself fall completely and stupidly in love and let herself dream of a bigger life.
She stared at the screen. An unread message from Callie sat there, sent an hour ago, when Mae had texted to say talking to Dad soon and nothing else.
How did it go? x
Mae turned onto her side, curled up. Her fingers shook as she typed.
Can you come round? Need to talk. She hovered for a second, then added: I love you.
She hit send and waited.
Mae had chosen. Or life had chosen. Either way, Mae wasn’t leaving with Callie. When she’d finished grieving her dad, she’d grieve that next.